Twelve

The warm glow of candlelight envelops us as Kane and I step through the palace’s towering wooden doors, my stomach churning like I just downed a can of whipped cream. My satin slippers whisper against the polished marble inlaid with a golden pentagram as wide as the grand entryway.

“Lord and Lady Ashwood,” the steward greets us, smooth and practiced. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Pentacles.” He folds his tall thin frame into a deep bow, his fluff of white hair lifting like feathers with the sweeping motion.

Kane’s gaze doesn’t falter. He glares straight ahead, over the top of the steward and the flurry of maids who rush to remove our cloaks and whisk them away before disappearing as quickly as they arrived.

I have to remember who I’m supposed to be. Lady Ashwood wouldn’t gape at the candelabra standing tall on ornately carved golden pedestals or the flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the rich golds and deep jewel tones that make up the luxurious tapestries lining the smooth stone walls. No, to Lady Ashwood, this would all be normal. To Lady Ashwood, this would be expected and not the most opulent, richly decorated place she’s ever been inside.

“His Majesty, King Alderic Lockhart the Third, is honored by your presence at this evening’s feast.” The steward’s posture is impeccable as his gloved hands tug on the maroon waistcoat beneath his jacket. “Please, allow me to escort you to your quarters, where you may refresh yourselves after your long”—he pauses, taking in my frizzy mane and crooked smile—“and no doubt trying journey.”

Fucking doormen.

“You’ll excuse the intrusion, my lord, but have we met before?” The steward’s wrinkled face crinkles like tissue as he peers up at Kane. “You look incredibly familiar.”

“No,” Kane replies without looking at the man.

“Hmm,” the steward murmurs, his lips pursed. “Forgive the imposition.” With a graceful bow and gesture that beckons we follow, he turns and leads us deeper into the palace.

Kane crooks his arm and holds out his elbow. I grasp it, and this time I don’t notice the solid iron heat beneath my fingers, the sudden ripple of awareness that whispers through me with the simple nearness of him, or the way my body wants to pull him closer. I don’t notice any of those things at all.

I am a strong, independent woman. I don’t want a man. Especially this emotionally unavailable, dangerous…dark…brooding…muscular…

“Shit,” I breathe, heat climbing up my cheeks.

The steward whips around, his thinning hair waving with the turn. “Pardon, my lady?”

“Nothing, I’m sor—” Before the automatic apology fully escapes me, I clamp my mouth shut. “I have been told of a grand hallway within the palace that boasts the most extraordinary glass dragonflies.”

I let the unasked question linger as if I truly am Lady Ashwood, deserving of information whether I explicitly request it or not.

“Ah, yes, my lady has been informed correctly. I must say, I am proud the beauty of our palace has reached your kingdom. The Palace of Pentacles boasts several grand hallways. The Hall of Crystal Wings, which my lady speaks of, the Hall of Mirrors, the great Gallery Hall, and a newly constructed hall reserved specifically for His Royal Majesty, King Lockhart the Third.”

Without another word, he spins on his heels, his wisps of hair flouncing with every purposeful step.

Kane is as cool and calm as always, his heavy footsteps echoing off the floor as the steward leads us deeper into the palace, but I’ve clasped my free hand into a fist so tight, my knuckles blanch white.

Sensing my tension, Kane smooths his fingers over mine. “You’re doing well.”

It’s obvious I didn’t make it through much of the palace when I frantically escaped Kane as we follow the steward through never-ending corridors and past dark wood tables covered in floral bouquets that line the tapestry-draped walls.

This place is a maze. Each turn makes me feel like we’re venturing deeper into a trap with no escape.

You’ll never find your way back to that bedroom. You’ll never find your way out of here.

“Fawn, you’re trembling.”

“Am I?” My mind races, trying to recall a mental marker that will lead me back to the room I first landed in. “I just need to find the Crystal Wings Hall. I’ll be able to retrace my steps from there.”

Kane slows his pace, increasing the distance between us and the steward. “We will find your way home,” he whispers. “Our task now is to fit in, make them believe we are who we pretend to be.”

“You’re right.” I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sweetness of fresh flowers and beeswax candles. I tilt my head back and exhale, trying to surface from the depths of my racing thoughts.

Gilded moldings soar above, framing the velvety deep-maroon ceiling crowned with chandeliers that scatter the candlelight like a thousand sunrises against the crimson backdrop.

Up ahead, the steward notices how far we’re trailing behind and stops. “Is something the matter, my lord?”

“Do not dawdle, Lady Ashwood,” Kane says, morphing into my noble husband. “They’ll think us impolite.”

I quicken my pace, taking two steps for every one of Kane’s as his broad strides bring us to the steward’s back. There’s a flash of something familiar, a fleeting image in my periphery that tugs at my memory.

I stop, dropping Kane’s arm. “What’s down that hall?” I ask, trying to place the tall gold statue in my scattered panicked memories of first arriving in the palace. Then again, what portion of the palace isn’t filled with gold?

“The ballroom, my lady,” the steward replies without missing a step.

“Anything else?” I ask, desperation raising my voice.

“Would my lady be interested in a tour of the palace?”

“That would be amazing,” I say, a little too eagerly. But this could be my chance. If I can get back to the hall with the dragonflies, I’m sure I can find my way from there.

Kane clears his throat, his gaze narrowing with a silent warning.

Fawn…

I hear the nickname he gave me stretched into a reprimand, a curse, as though we’ve known each other for months instead of days.

I clear my throat, adopting a more Ambassador-ess of Cups-like demeanor. “That is to say, I would very much like to explore the palace further.”

The steward nods, his hair following a moment later as if he’s glitching in real life. “I shall arrange a tour for my lady to take place before it is time to dress for dinner.”

I glide my fingers along the thick banister draped in flowing waterfalls of carmine and cream silk while we follow him up a grand staircase. Each step is coated in plush crimson fibers that swallow all sound and evidence we were ever there. This place is so big, but so quiet, so empty. The tick of a distant clock echoes throughout the second floor, a steady reminder that every moment that passes is another away from home.

We turn down a hallway as opulent as the videos my favorite travelers post of their lavish stays in five-star hotels. I force myself to take a deep inhale of the floral-perfumed hall as my hands stir restlessly by my side, itching for the weight of my phone. I want to take pictures, capture this moment forever, and use it as inspiration when I’m back home fighting for my job.

I blink, caught off guard by my own thoughts. Maybe I won’t slink off into the shadows of unemployment like a dying cat. Maybe there’s a chance I can go back to Posh Pulse. Although I’d rather have my period every day for a year than face the embarrassment of working for Stephanie.

It was bad enough when we were supposed to be equals. Now that she nailed the pitch and landed the office, she’ll be insufferable. With a flick of her perfectly manicured nails, she’ll dismiss my ideas with a condescending smile and add a passive-aggressive jab that I won’t be able to address outright without looking overly emotional.

Fucking Stephanie.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound of the clock is relentless, our steps noiseless against the thick carpeting. I miss the buzz of notifications, the comfort of scrolling through socials, matching colorful boxes to win meaningless trophies, or reading just enough of an article to send me into a spiral before being locked out by a paywall. Without it, I’m alone with just me, myself, and I. And we are easily anxious and not always nice to one another.

I need my fucking phone.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Instead of a comforting, predictable metronome, the repetitive ticking puts me on edge as we pass one ornately carved wooden door after another. Doors I don’t need to see the other side of. I wasn’t upstairs before. I was downstairs. Somewhere near the crystal wings.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The incessant ticking adds a thundering beat to the storm of thoughts crashing between my ears. My palms are clammy, the air around us suddenly turning to soup. I can’t tell if it’s smothering me or I’m smothering myself, but with no escaping my own thoughts, I’m on the edge of a panic attack.

“I have figured it out!” The steward halts so abruptly, I nearly smack into his back. “Lord Ashwood, your parents came many years ago to visit King Alderic Lockhart the Second. You were only a boy, but that must be why you appear so familiar.”

Every muscle in Kane’s body tightens. “No, I don’t believe I made the journey to Pentacles until now.”

“Yes, I remember it clearly. I have a way with faces, you see.” The steward beams, his chest puffed like he’s just solved the crime of the century.

“No, I’m sure you’re mistaken.” Kane shakes his head and readjusts his eye patch.

My stomach clenches, and I plaster on a smile so fake, even I know it’s a grimace as the steward’s eyes narrow, his memory working overtime to place Kane’s face.

Desperate for any distraction, I suck in a breath like it’s my last and rush to fill the empty space with the first thing that pops into my head. “We ran into highwaymen on our journey here.”

The steward presses his hand to his chest and takes a step away, concern deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. “Please do not say my lady’s harrowing misadventure occurred within our great kingdom.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Kane presses his palm to the small of my back. His wordless reprimand is palpable, his dark eyes seeming to cover my mouth before I can say more. “I’m sure Lady Ashwood would not enjoy reliving our experience.”

“Yes, it really wasn’t that big of a deal,” I add, hurrying to downplay the encounter. “Lord Ashwood and I got a little muddy. My hair sort of…” I lift a limp, frizzy section off my shoulder and waggle it in front of my face. “Well, it’s doing what it’s doing.” I chuckle, my attempt at a joke falling flatter than Stephanie’s ass. “Nothing a quick wash won’t fix.”

The words keep tumbling out of my mouth like Legos, and each time I try to pick them up, I step on them instead.

“A nice scrub-a-dub-dub.” I wince and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from rambling on.

The steward’s gauzy hair fans the air as he tilts his head. “I will inform the king immediately of the ne’er-do-wells. They will be apprehended and punished immediately.”

Kane takes a step forward. “That isn’t necessary.”

“It really isn’t,” I chime in. “Lord Ashwood dealt with them quite thoroughly.” I chew my bottom lip, the stress of what I might have put into motion tumbling around in my stomach.

In my line of work, I’ve learned that nothing distracts like gossip. And, sure, I may not have any, but I know how to sound like I do.

“Actually…” With an exaggerated lean, I whisper to the steward, hoping to distract him from my previous attempt at distraction. “My husband is very good with a sword. If you know what I mean.”

Kane coughs a warning I ignore. “I believe our young driver, Briggs, had more to do with our escape than I.”

“Don’t be modest.” I pat the warm steel of Kane’s bicep and turn my attention back to the steward. “You should have seen Lord Ashwood wield his weapon and take down the assailants. It was terrifying.”

Kane’s onyx gaze presses down on me, pinning me to the spot, until all I see is him. A shadow falls across his sharp features, one that looks a bit like regret, and I have to stop myself from touching his stubbled cheek, from telling him everything will be okay.

“And when I say ‘terrifying,’” I begin, my mouth going dry as a bit of softness shines within the inky spill of Kane’s eyes, “I mean in a strong and…and virile sort of way.”

The softness is gone, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

I clear my throat and brush my hair from my shoulders, turning back to the steward. “Point being that Lord Ashwood is the reason we are still alive.”

“Unfortunately, my lady, I am not extremely surprised by the incident.” The steward shakes his head, and we continue walking. This time, he leans in conspiratorially, returning my silent offer to talk just between friends . “There has been an uptick in crime as of late. The people have grown increasingly restless since the king’s death.”

“But Pentacles has a king, doesn’t it?” I ask.

“Yes, His Majesty King Alderic Lockhart the Third now holds the throne, but has only done so since the last harvest not but six months ago. His Majesty’s father, King Alderic Lockhart the Second , ruled for twenty-five years. Our new king, long may he reign, has made many changes within the kingdom since his father’s death, changes the villagers and those within the surrounding fiefdoms do not agree with. Although they are a simple people.”

“What kinds of changes?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Well, my lady, it all began with—”

“Must we discuss politics?” Kane interjects, and I can’t tell whether he’s being himself or Lord Ashwood.

Either way, he startles the steward, and knowing he revealed too much, the older man stiffens and gives a quick shake of his head. “I beg your forgiveness, my lady. It is not my place to make such statements nor have such opinions. Besides, I should not wish to take up my lady’s time with these trivial matters.”

“You think the villagers starving to be a trivial matter?” Kane asks.

The steward takes a deep breath, his only tell the slight flare of his nostrils. “I’m sure I do not have an opinion on the matter, my lord.”

“I see.” Kane’s mouth tightens.

“Well.” The steward claps, changing the subject. “I am relieved to know my lord and lady made it through the ordeal unscathed. As for His Majesty, he knows of everything that occurs within his kingdom. Were I to do as you request, Lord Ashwood, and not inform him, he would discover the event regardless.”

I fall back into step next to the steward as he continues to lead us toward our room, his hair fluttering with each glance at me over his stiff squared shoulders. “How does King Lockhart find out about everything within the kingdom? Does it have to do with palace intrigue and a network of spies?”

After winding through the palace’s sumptuous hallways, the steward stops before a grand set of double doors. A pentacle is carved into the wood, stretching from the floor to meet the top of the arched doorway.

“Nothing so scandalous, my lady. Although it is rather beguiling.” The steward removes an ornate gold key from his pocket and waves it in the air, adding a flourish to his statement. A smile lights his face, softening the years worn into his features, and he leans closer, his whisper meant to be a secret shared only between us. “King Lockhart has a gift. The gift of sight.”

“The gift of sight?” I repeat, my fingers gliding over the silken scar beneath my layers of clothing. “Sight, like fortune-telling? Can King Lockhart use his magick to see the future?”

Behind me, Kane stiffens, tension shooting off him like porcupine quills. “ Fawn… ” he warns, this time aloud, his voice a sharp bark that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

The steward’s hand stills on the key as he slides it into the lock. He’s as tense as Kane, his brown eyes big and round as he processes my words. “Magick has been outlawed for nearly half a century,” he responds, alarm tightening his tone. “To accuse the king of such a thing would be treason.”

My heart lurches. I don’t know what’s wrong with what I said, but it’s something big. Scary big. “I didn’t mean any offense.” I backtrack. “What I meant to say was—”

Luckily, I’m not forced to complete my thought. The steward holds up his hands, brushing away my apology. “Not at all, my lady. I was not referring to her ladyship in any manner. Simply stating that if someone were to say something about M-A-G-I-C-K , it would not turn out in that citizen’s favor.”

The tension in the air dissipates, and it’s only when I feel Kane relax that I release my pent-up breath. I steal a quick glance up at him, glaring with a look that is supposed to say, You should have told me the rules about magick instead of how a lady is supposed to talk . But with my hair falling in my face, I probably look like some sort of sheepdog.

The lock clicks, and with a dramatic, sweeping gesture, the steward pushes the doors wide. I take a moment to drink it all in. The air is rich with the subtle scents of lemon and beeswax. Magnificent candelabra drip with crystals and cast a warm golden glow over the intricate moldings, rich furnishings, and cream walls.

He sweeps past us to the sumptuous velvet drapes that frame the windows opposite the coffee table and chairs set up near the far corner of the room. He picks a piece of lint off the deep-maroon fabric pulled back with tasseled gold cords to reveal the lush greenery and vibrant flowers within the palace gardens beyond.

But one piece of furniture commands my attention. A massive four-poster bed carved from polished dark wood gleams under the soft fire of candlelight. It’s dressed with silken sheets, cloudlike blankets, and a mountain of plush pillows in varying shades of crimson and ruby.

My lungs constrict, and I can’t quite swallow or take a full breath. There’s only one bed, and somehow I don’t see Kane sleeping on the floor.

Sensing my distress, my fake husband leans against a thick column of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face. I swear he’s flexing again because his shirt clings to his muscles like it’s about to rip apart.

The steward opens another ornately carved door that leads into the dressing rooms and bathing chamber, but his voice hums in the background like an old AC unit as I study Kane. He’s not arrogant. At least, not in the same way as Chad or the numbers I have to delete to keep from calling when Trader Joe’s has a sale on rosé. Kane is confident in a way that comes from knowing how strong he is, how capable, how very, very good.

His dark eye settles on me, and his lips slide into a smile I want to taste. I’m breathless, caught between the desire to run before we’re left alone with only the bed and empty time to fill and the pull of something too delicious and potent to ignore.

“Fawn.” He utters my nickname, and even from across the room his voice leaves my skin tingling and my heart racing. “You’re needed.”

“Whatever for?” I whisper, butterfly soft.

Kane’s smile deepens, and I catch the barely perceptible tightening of the thick muscles of his legs and shift in his stance, a lion ready to pounce.

The steward clears his throat, and I’m suddenly reminded that Kane and I aren’t alone with the bed, our bodies, and the perfect soft lighting. “I thought it would please my lady to know this suite has been prepared with the utmost care by none other than King Lockhart’s personal staff to ensure your comfort during your visit to the kingdom,” he explains, his voice light and airy with pride as he dusts more invisible lint from the heavy curtains.

“Attendants will be at your service to assist in preparing for tonight’s feast, where His Majesty anticipates the pleasure of your company, at which point I shall have the honor of escorting my lady and my lord to the Great Hall.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to hide the fact that I was caught full-on fantasizing about a man I know better than to fall for. “This is…wonderful.”

“King Lockhart will be pleased to hear how my lady has found the rooms.” As he heads back to the door, the steward pauses at my side. He leans in, his eyes gleaming like polished acorns. “Please, Lady Ashwood, if there is anything you need, anything at all, do call upon me personally.”

“Thank you… I’m sorry, what should I call you?”

“McDougall, my lady. At your service.” He folds into another deep bow that’s accentuated by the puff of hair dancing like a ghost on his head.

“I appreciate your help, McDougall. Everything is more than we could have hoped for. Thank you again.”

His posture softens as he returns my grin and nods his thanks. “It is my pleasure to serve, my lady.” He turns to Kane and bows, setting the key on a vase-covered stand on his way out.

The doors close behind him with a discreet click , and the moment I’ve been waiting for, hoping for, dreading arrives. Kane remains next to the bed, candlelight flickering against his sun-toasted skin.

His eyes follow me as I move to the windows, and my cheeks warm with a blush I hope he doesn’t notice. Under his gaze, every move I make is amplified, every rustle of fabric a scratch against the silence.

“It looks like we’ll be…quite comfortable here,” I say, trying to look everywhere except at the bed, at him.

“Yes, quite comfortable.” The weight of Kane’s attention is a caress that trails over my skin and ignites a warmth that, if I’m not careful, will light a fire of need.

I shake my head, anchoring myself to something, anything, resembling rational thought and remind myself that I have a perfectly good, albeit not charged, vibrator waiting for me in my apartment.

“There are enough pillows that you’ll be comfortable when you sleep over there.” I point to the chairs situated across the room.

“Oh no, my dear lady wife, I would never desecrate my marriage vows by leaving your bed empty.” He closes the distance between us with languid strides. “Besides, Little Fawn, you don’t want me there. You want me here,” he says, dragging his salty-sweet thumb along my lips. The air thickens, each second stretching long and firm as my thoughts spin and my boundaries start to melt under the warmth of his touch.

“No, I don’t,” I say, fighting everything within me screaming to submit.

His tongue traces his bottom lip, a sinful smirk playing on his mouth. “That’s nearly the most ridiculous thing you’ve said since we arrived.”

“Nearly?” I blink, the lava flowing through my veins starting to cool. “I haven’t said anything close to ridiculous.”

He reaches out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Fawn—”

“Don’t ‘ Fawn ’ me,” I snap, swatting his hand away before his touch can reel me back in. “What ridiculous things have I said since we got here? If it’s about magick, you didn’t tell me it was forbidden. And why are you even using magick that’s been outlawed?”

He tilts his head back and forth as if weighing what I’ve said. “Perhaps ‘ridiculous’ was too strong a word. ‘Unnecessary’ is more fitting.”

“ Unnecessary? ” I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s fucking harsh. I was nervous. Excuse me for having feelings and for talking instead of brooding and marching around stoically.”

“You are but a woman.”

“And you are but a douche.”

The smirk dies on his lips as I glower up at him. “While acting as Lady Ashwood, you must keep quiet. Within this kingdom, women do not speak for their husbands.”

“I wasn’t speaking for you. I was just talking,” I fire back without an inkling of apology. “I’m not going to be a good girl and walk around silently, letting you be in control of everything. If I have something to say, I’m going to say it.”

“If you have something to say, you’ll get us killed.”

I snap my mouth shut, my scalding comeback dissolving into silence as the weight of his words settle over me.

“What do you think will happen if Alderic, or someone far worse—someone like Four—learns the truth? Fawn, we are committing treason. The moment they find out, our death warrants will be signed, and that will be the end.”

Fear flutters in my chest, reminding me that this is a different world and I do not belong.

“You want to be burned at the stake or beheaded? Then continue as you are. Within the Palace of Pentacles, we are Lord and Lady Ashwood. You are not Hannah, and I am not Kane. Here, I am skilled at swordsmanship, but not in battle. And you”—his voice softens as he caresses my cheek—“are quiet and meek as a mouse. To be seen and not heard. You are my jewel, my—”

“Trophy,” I whisper, my resistance thawing beneath his fingers.

He leans in closer, dipping down and drawing my chin up to meet him. His eye is a dark promise, an invitation to succumb to the heat licking through me. “And what a beautiful trophy you are.”

The moment stretches, taut and trembling, as if the world has narrowed down to the space between our lips.

The spell is shattered by a knock on the door so abrupt and jarring, I take a step back. Kane curses and strides to the door, his fists clenched so tightly, I hope the person on the other side knows how to fight. It’s only a matter of time before I won’t be able to anymore.