Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar, #2)(6)

I no longer cared about anything except finding a way to get him out of here. Unable to look at him, I turned away.

The forest thinned, and a distant castle came into view, rising from the rocks and mist. It loomed high above us, the base of it twisting like gnarled tree roots that blended into a gothic fortress.

The poison slid through my veins, blurring my vision. I screamed until my throat went hoarse and a fist slammed into the back of my skull.





I lay on a crooked floor, muscles burning and my head pounding. Moonlight cast cold light over my room, a strange sort of cell. Half of the walls seemed to be made of bluish bark that shot upward toward the sky, hundreds of feet in the air. The other half were made of stone, an iron door inset into the wall.

Pinpricks of silver dotted the darkness overhead, little rays of light for a cell both narrow and impossibly tall. In here, I had only shadows for company.

I ran my fingers over the place on my back where the darts had pierced me, wincing at the cramping of muscles whenever I moved. I tried to swallow, my throat parched.

“Torin?” My voice came out as a rasp.

The only response I got was the echoing of my own voice off the walls.

I dropped my head into my hands, trying to hold down my rising nausea. I didn’t know if Torin had even made it here alive.

If he had? Maybe he’d been able to open a portal to escape.

If he stayed here, the Unseelie would tear him apart.

With my head in my hands, I retched, but nothing came up. If the Unseelie really were monsters like Torin said, what the fuck did that say about me?

My throat was sandpaper. “Torin?” I tried again, breaking into a coughing fit.

I rose from the floor and hobbled over to the iron door. In desperation, I slammed my fist against it. “Hello?” I shouted. “Torin? Anyone?” The more I shouted, the more desperate I became for water. My throat felt like I’d swallowed broken glass.

Panic carved through me, and I turned back to my narrow, towering cell, my gaze flicking to the moonlight-pierced canopy above. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the ruddy hues of the leaves.

If I’d been able to scale these walls, I could get out through them. But the stone and bark were too smooth for fingerholds.

My throat burned, and rushing water was all I could think about now, how soothing it would feel running down my throat.

I slumped against the bark and closed my eyes. I licked my dry lips and thought of Torin trying to run with me in his arms—then I envisioned us plunging into the river, where crystalline water streamed into our mouths.

If I couldn’t have any actual relief for my thirst, I’d have to manage with fantasy.





5





AVA




Thin rays of gold beamed over me, and I woke curled on the floor. I’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for days, I thought. If I ever made it out of here alive, I’d never take food or water for granted again. I’d be forever awed by modern miracles like supermarkets and showers.

At every moment—even while I dreamed—a single question flickered like a glowing neon sign: What is Torin doing now?

As I lay on the floor of my prison cell, my mind slid back to the night he’d shown me the view of Faerie from a snow-covered cliff. He’d given me sips of whisky from his flask, and we’d looked out over a breathtaking view of a frozen lake and the dark mountains that swept around it. Snow had frosted the black slopes, and dark castles jutted from the rocky horizons. Golden windows glittered in the distance, thousands of cozy homes. This memory was now my new fantasy. My new escape .

Maybe that’s where he sat now, sipping whisky. How amazing would it taste sliding down my throat? And the snow, too. I’d kneel and lick it from the earth.

I’d started to drift off again—just for a moment—when I heard the creak of iron against iron. My eyes snapped open, and my gaze flew to the door. I’d nearly tasted the snow, nearly felt it melting on my tongue, and now the illusion had been ripped away. I hoped it would be replaced with actual water.

When the door creaked open, a trickle of fear scratched at the recesses of my thoughts. Morgant stood in the doorway, dressed in deep green leather. A ray of daylight glinted off the gold of his scorpion crown.

He carried a stone cup, but his icy expression made my stomach curdle.

I tried to stand, but my muscles were too weak, so I leaned back against the tree bark.

“Water,” I rasped. Whatever scant ability I’d once possessed to charm or cajole a person had dissipated days ago.

If I were human, I’d be dead by now.

Morgant gave me a grim smile and knelt next to me. His amber eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a sip if you give me the information I want.” He gripped me by the throat. “You smell horrible.”

As if my current disgusting state was a choice.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Seelie king?” He spoke in an accent with rolled Rs.

I didn’t yet know if they still held Torin captive, and I wasn’t about to confirm his identity to the man who might flay him alive. “The Seelie what?” I asked.

His fingers tightened on my throat. “If you want water to live, you will answer my questions. Our kind does not lie.”

My gaze lifted to the light piercing the tree branches above. It had to rain here occasionally, surely. It just hadn’t yet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”