A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #1)(22)

I grabbed velvet and yanked. The metal curtain hooks scraped against the curtain rod. Light gushed in, and I got a first look at the view.

I was high off the ground. The stairs indicated I was four levels up, but the castle was perched on a rise. The land on this side dropped away, and it felt like I could see forever. The tops of trees spread out in the distance with various gaps, some quite large. I wondered if those openings marked other villages or homesteads. It occurred to me how little I knew about the kingdom. I’d never been away from home. I had no idea what other places looked like and how they were set up. No idea what the castle was like beyond what I’d seen tonight.

As a young girl, I’d dreamed of such things. I’d make believe I was a queen walking out onto her dais, waving to the adoring crowds gathered below and adjusting my long red velvet cape. I’d travel to distant kingdoms and meet their leaders, smiling serenely and drinking tea with my pinky up, as befitted royalty. Other times I’d play the jester, doing handstands and juggling for the simpering royalty, then making jokes at their expense, which they were certainly too slow to grasp.

But then I grew up. My grandiose make-believe downsized into my habit of addressing an invisible audience whenever I got into trouble or took risks to put food on the table. My dreams had dried up. All of our dreams had, I guessed. I wasn’t alone in any of this.

Well. I was alone in a tower in a castle, kept prisoner by the last surviving noble—

I sucked in a breath as I pulled back the rest of the curtains and looked out over the grounds. I did some quick math: the last surviving noble + in charge of protecting the land = dragon. Dragon!

I searched my memory for what dragons looked like. First came that glittering golden masterpiece in the sky from my youth. The dragon prince. But I’d never seen him—or any of them—close up, only from down below as they cut through the air with massive wings. There was no way I could compare the beast to what I’d seen.

There were pictures, though, drawn or painted by hand. In fact, I’d just seen some in the history book from the library. Nyfain did share some qualities with the dragons. The armored and horned head, the long tail ending in spikes, the clawed feet, the slope to his back.

But what had happened to his wings?

And why had only one noble been spared? A noble that apparently had jurisdiction here only in the daytime.

And why—

There was no point in tallying all of my questions. Throwing them out in the air would just crowd the space. I had no answers. Not yet, anyway.

A soft knock sounded at the door. My stomach rolled over, but not that weird thing in my chest. My animal, Nyfain had called it.

A whole bunch more questions tried to shove their way to the surface.

“Hello?” called a muffled voice.

I turned. Was this the way it was going to be? I’d have to communicate through the door?

“Hello?” the voice called again.

Sighing, I crossed the room and leaned against the frame. “What?” I said, folding my arms.

“Oh. You’re there. Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Can I come in?”

The slurring was evident. It must be the purple mock-up beast from the party. Hadriel.

I couldn’t help a small laugh at the costume and his sheepishness in coming forward. He’d totally been making fun of Nyfain and not expected to get caught.

That didn’t mean I would take it easy on him, though. For all intents and purposes, he was a guard. By rights, the prisoners were supposed to be at odds with their guards. For me, that meant lots of snarky put-downs. I hoped he was ready for it.

“You have the key, dipshit,” I called.

“I do?” His voice trailed away. “Oh. I see. It’s in the door. Wait…are you a prisoner? Why are you locked in?”

I raised my eyebrows and readied for a bandy of words, but…blank. His utter cluelessness made my mind go blank. He didn’t seem any more enlightened about the situation than I was.

“Are you dangerous?” he called. “Should I be worried? The master didn’t mention that I should be worried.”

Again, I wasn’t sure what to say.

“No?” I finally managed.

“You don’t sound sure. Look, I’m not good at fighting. That’s why I’m still alive. I’m a butler, for goddess’s sake! I look after people—kinda. I’m not much good at it. That’s also why I’m still alive, I think. There is safety in mediocrity. So if you’re all ragey, I’m just going to have to ask you to simmer down for a while. I’m not the bad guy here.”

A grin was pulling at my lips. Was this guy for real?

“I won’t hurt you,” I called.

“Are you sure? Now that I think of it, the master had a fresh wound. Did you give him that?”

“Yes, but he grabbed my throat. What was I supposed to do? And honestly, I don’t even remember doing it.”

“You don’t remember doing it?” Now his voice was rising. “What kind of a nutcase stabs a person and doesn’t remember doing it?”

“The kind who thinks they are going to die?”

A pause. Then, “Yes, okay. That makes sense, I guess. Fine, I’m coming in. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t stab or hurt me in any way. I was having a very nice time a moment ago and don’t want to ruin the buzz.”