Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(58)

Carved white marble arched over the double doorway. Tiny flowers, slithering ivy, even beetles crawled from the floor and arched into the ceiling. This wasn’t just an intimidating entrance, it was a work of art.

The green double doors stood open, golden rivets and foil outlined each individual plank. It was the only thing in the castle not falling to pieces.

She brushed her hand along the worn wood as she passed. It was clean, she realized in shock. Every tiny piece of the grand ballroom shone as bright as the sun.

Although cracks still traveled through the floor, this was now a place of rare beauty. The chandeliers dripped rubies and emeralds, light striking the gems and casting colored shadows upon the floor.

Sorcha gasped. She hadn’t realized paint covered the walls. The Wild Hunt stretched on either side of her. Fae in chariots, armored and terrifying, chased down human and animal alike. Larger than life, they seemed to move on their own as she stared.

All this stretched towards the throne which remained cast in shadow. New curtains hung from the ceiling, blood red and so silken they dripped onto the floor. The staircase to reach him was made of pure gold.

“You are early.” His grumbling voice raced down her spine in shivers and trembles.

“I hadn’t realized I was expected.”

“It’s you?”

He stood. The great height of him at once overpowering and overwhelming even though she was still far from him.

Sorcha was intensely aware of her simple appearance. She should’ve chosen the emerald gown—she might not have looked so out of place. Her mother’s dress looked more like a wildflower placed incongruously in a porcelain vase.

Each thunk of his footsteps made her blush burn hotter. What had she been thinking? Of course he would entertain guests in a finer way than he lived! She was a fool.

Embarrassment did not suit her. Sorcha reminded herself that she was a midwife, not a princess. This was her best dress before Pixie had given her something else to wear. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

She lifted her gaze, and her mouth went dry.

A warrior stood before her. Commander, chief, lord. She sucked in a rasping gasp as he strode across the wide expanse of marble.

He wore elven armor. Each dark silver plate meticulously hammered to fit the movement of his arms. The symbol of a stag embellished the wide leather chest piece. Chain mail swayed against his thighs, knee high boots striking the floor with hard purpose.

Metallic threads wove through his long braid that was tied off with golden clasps. The sword she had so admired was strapped to his side.

“You should not be here,” he growled.

“I see that now.”

“I am expecting visitors.”

“Yes, yes it appears so.” Sorcha was tongue-tied.

He was so handsome, so overwhelming, so otherworldly that she was incapable of finding her own thoughts. She turned to leave, but paused when he reached out and grasped her arm. Crystals bit through the delicate fabric.

“All is well?”

She shivered. “That depends on your definition of well.”

“How can I help?”

“You have to come back to the mainland with me,” she whispered while staring at the door. “I cannot linger here any longer.”

“You know my answer.”

“Then I will have to force you!” Sorcha whipped around, her green eyes sparking with anger. “You did not tell me that time passed differently here! My family could be dead in a few days, have you no care for that?”

“Who told you?”

Her heart stopped. His words tumbled over and over in her mind. Sorcha’s throat closed as she asked, “Why didn’t you?”

“There wasn’t an appropriate opportunity.”

“The first moment I stepped into this throne room and told you my purpose, you should have let me know that my chances were limited. I cannot give up! My family needs me.”

“Family is who you choose, not who is in your blood.”

Sorcha wrenched her arm from his grasp. “Then I choose them! A thousand times over I choose them!”

“You have been given a good home here! In time, I would move you into the castle—”

“In time?” She pressed a hand against her mouth and backed towards the door. “As if it’s some kind of reward for good behavior?”

“I had to make sure you were trustworthy—”

“Trustworthy? Do you have some kind of initiation people must go through before you lower yourself to call them friend?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, master? What must I do before you consider my family worthy of your attentions?”

She was even with him now, four steps up the stairs. He lifted one foot and placed it on the next step, hesitating in the face of her anger.

“I cannot leave this isle. I cannot help your family, even if I wished to—”

A choked sound escaped her lips. “Even if you wished to?”

“That’s not how I meant it—”

“I understand perfectly how you meant it. Thank you for making things so clear.”

“Wait—”

She whirled and raced from the throne room. Sorcha rounded a corner, pushing through back rooms until she recognized where she was. She had to avoid whatever horrific guests he might be entertaining. She didn’t want to know what beasts consorted with such a horrible man.