Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar, #2)(45)

I stepped through the archway into the Dusk Tower itself, and the light seemed to shift, darkening to periwinkle and violet, streaming through windows.

My breath caught at the sight of three enormous silvery wolves that sat protectively around the figure in the center of the room. A fire burned in a stone pit before her, illuminating the stooped woman and her wolves. A pewter-blue veil covered her face, and it hung down over the silver fabric of her dress. She sat still as stone. The only parts of her that were exposed were her pale, wrinkled hands and the enormous silver antlers that jutted from her head. I had the distinct impression that I was trespassing in a place I didn’t quite understand.

One of her wolves lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at me, and let out a low growl. A shiver snaked up my spine.

A flicker of movement caught my attention. There was no glass in the soaring windows, just the open air and the vines that snaked in from the outside. When I took another step into the tower room, the vines twitched.

“Isavell,” the woman murmured.

The name lit a spark of recognition in my mind. I’d been called that before. “I need your help. Please. I want to know how to get out of the Court of Sorrows.”

“Is that what you call our kingdom?” She spoke without moving, and I had the unnerving sense that her words were coming from inside my skull.

I breathed in sharply, frustration burning like an ember inside me. “Please tell me how to get back to Faerie.”

“You will return to Faerie in the Avon River. There, in an abandoned temple to the ash goddess, you will find a mirror hanging from the wall, one that can open a world by naming it. “ Little sparks from the fire danced in the air around her. “East of the castle along the river. That is where the temple stands.”

I closed my eyes, so relieved I could cry. But an unsettling feeling shivered up my nape. This felt too easy. “Why would you help me escape?”

Her head arched back sharply, and her wolves bristled, baring their canines.

“I only foretell the future,” her voice boomed. “And nothing happens in this castle without the queen’s consent. Everything occurs as she intends. Your own sense of control is only an illusion.” The flames rose higher before her.

I stared at her, and despite the growing fire, a sense of dread chilled me down to my marrow. “So nothing I decide actually matters. ”

“You have another question for me.”

My breath had gone shallow. “Where do I find Torin’s body?”

“Do you burn for him? Does he burn for you?”

Not the answer I was looking for. “Where do I find his body?”

“You will find him in the throne room.”

“They left him there? Why?”

“I foretell the future, not the past,” she hissed. “That is where you will find him. And her soldiers come for you now. If you do not leave at this very moment, they will capture you. And if you don’t eat or drink soon, you will die.”

My lip curled. “I thought it didn’t matter what I did because the queen controls everything.”

“She will throw you off the tower.”

My heart skipped a beat. I felt the vibrations moving through the stairwell, the clanking of armored guards hurrying up the winding stones.

My gaze flicked to the open window, where the vines hung inside, clinging to the stones. When I held out my hands, the indigo vines unfurled, snapping around my wrists. They lifted me into the air. I landed against the wall with bent legs to cushion the impact and crawled out the window onto the side of the tower. The night wind rushed over me, whipping my hair into my face. Protectively, the plants slid around my waist, a harness of claret leaves.

Under the darkening night sky, I crawled down the tower’s exterior until I reached the floor beneath it, then lower to the third floor .

My thoughts snagged on what the crone had said—that ultimately, Queen Mab was in control of everything happening here. But what was I supposed to do with that knowledge? And who knew if it was even accurate? All I could do was keep moving forward.

I moved east across the castle’s surface, avoiding the windows.

When I glanced down at the earth far below, my heart skipped a beat. Holy shit, I was high up. Dizziness blurred my thoughts. The old crone had been right. If I didn’t get water soon, this would all be over.

Midnight vines carried me across the castle’s face, moving me lower toward the floor with the shattered windows. Beneath me, some of the armored guards still dangled from the wreckage.

They kicked in the air, flailing and screaming. I aimed for an opening as far as possible from the trapped soldiers. The vines lowered me down, then lifted me in through the shattered window. My shoes crunched on the glass, and I broke into a run.

I stumbled through the halls toward the throne room with a rising sense of dread spreading through me like poison.

Because—gods, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it. I wasn’t sure if I could handle seeing him dead. The horror of it all might shatter what was left of my fragmented mind, and I was already turning into a monster.

And yet…there was that feeling again, that his presence was here, the raw, masculine power of the Seelie king. I kept thinking I could smell him, that I couldn’t leave here without him …

My nostrils flared as the scent was gone again, replaced by a sharp sense of loss.