What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(15)
The stone walls surrounding the fortress had been stained brown by time. I skirted around the edge, keeping distance between myself and the patrols that I expected to jump out at any moment. I wistfully eyed the horses that poked their heads out of the barn stalls. It hardly seemed fair that they had the finest horses in the village, while the farmers often had to cope with aging nags that weren't made for hard labor.
The barracks acted as a barrier, separating the Veil from the village, so that no matter what corner of Mistfell one found themselves in, the Mist Guard waited as a silent sentry to the Veil itself. The Guard would be the first thing the Fae encountered, aside from the gardens, if they ever came to Nothrek. If they ever crossed the Veil, it would be to claim the humans they thought belonged to them, after centuries of forced separation kept them away from their mortal counterparts.
Stepping through the edge of the woods, I approached the shimmering white Veil where it swayed on the other side of the trees. The branches reached toward it, as if they couldn't get close enough to the pervasive magic of Faerie, which promised a better life and more fertile soil.
I followed suit against my best intentions, making my way to the edge of the boundary, where the land disappeared into the shimmering magic and the mist that lay beyond. With the gardens to my right, the barracks through the trees behind me, and the Manor gleaming in the distance as it rose above the trees, I swayed like a sapling toward the Veil. It fluttered like the lightest of fabrics when caught in the ocean breeze, the clouded mist on the other side making it impossible to see through to the land of Faerie. Sometimes, in the night, I looked into that mist and swore I saw the shining beacon of dazzling blue eyes staring back at me.
But that was impossible, and sometimes I wondered if that was as much a blessing as everyone insisted. My own idle curiosity and a boring life drove me to the Veil at night to see the stars twinkling in the mist and the lightning storms that rippled through the boundary, like the Old Gods themselves were angry for what had been taken from them.
Considering the Old Gods we’d once worshiped had eventually been revealed as the most powerful of the Fae, I thought it was likely they were angry. After their real identities had been exposed, the resulting war had torn Nothrek in two. Entire cities had been laid to waste at the hands of those Old Gods in their fury at the prospect of no longer being worshiped.
A sense of nothingness settled over me when I raised a hand as close as I dared and stared into the Mist beyond the Veil, the twinkle of stars resonating with something inside of me. If the quiet of darkness was a welcome reprieve from the chaos inside my mind, then my morbid curiosity of what might exist just on the other side of the Veil was my defect.
"I see that our last lesson in propriety was ineffective as usual, Miss Barlowe," Lord Byron said from somewhere behind me. I flinched, dropping my hand from where I’d reached up to feel close to the magic that called to my curiosity.
Spinning, I turned to face the owner of the smooth voice that haunted my nightmares. “Lord Byron, I can explain—”
“My Lord,” he corrected, sauntering through the copse of trees that I’d thought would provide me cover. A legion of Mist Guard followed at his heels, having none of the natural grace he did and moving only with brute force as they'd been trained. They were a reminder of everything I didn’t want to consider, of the ticking clock he held over my head now.
“My Lord,” I said, tilting my head down until my eyes landed on the yellowing grass at his feet. I preferred that to the false kindness in his blue eyes and the attractive features that undoubtedly fooled many girls into aiming for his bed.
To be a consort to the Lord of Mistfell was no small feat—even if he did have a wife.
“I am fairly certain that this is not my library, Estrella,” he said when he stopped in front of me, sliding two smooth fingers under my chin and tipping my face until he captured my stare with his.
“It isn't the library,” I confirmed, the urge to spit in his face sneaking through me.
“Mumbling is beneath a woman of your grace.” He slid his fingers down the column of my throat, pressing them to my collarbone and pushing me back until I stood straight, noble, as if my dress wasn’t stained and torn, and my boots didn’t have holes in them from too many harvests.
He looked at me and saw something to polish and own, when all I wanted was to be free.
“It won’t happen again, my Lord,” I said, resisting the urge to mumble all over again.
"Be certain it doesn't," he said, removing his hand from my body and taking a step back. "I meant it when I told you there are things we need to discuss."
"We're both here now," I said, glancing over his shoulder. Even if the presence of the Mist Guard was a false comfort, it helped when I didn't feel alone with him. The worst of his punishments came where there were no prying eyes.
He studied me, stepping back and grasping his chin in the same fingers that had touched me. "Loris, would you be so kind as to help Miss Barlowe find her way to the library? We wouldn't want her to get lost again." Lord Byron turned to Loris with a stare, where he’d tried to hide behind other Mist Guard soldiers. Loris's throat worked as he swallowed, meeting Lord Byron's eyes and knowing the older man knew what he'd done, and he stepped forward with a brisk nod of his head.
"Yes, my Lord," he said, his voice carrying through the otherwise quiet space as his fellow guards, some of them friends, watched. He moved toward me, his face blank of all apology or care as he took my elbow in a tight grip and tugged me toward the manor.