Thirteen

Kane throws open the door and fills the threshold with a force that sends a current of air rushing over me. “Go away,” he growls out into the hall, his voice the deep, resonant snarl of a hunter distracted from his kill.

Trailing my fingers along the solid barrier of his bicep, I duck beneath his arm. “Don’t be rude.” I tsk, brushing my hair back to greet our visitor. “How can we—”

The greeting dies on my lips as I take in our guest’s rounded nose, full lips, high cheekbones, and large almond-shaped eyes that sparkle like—

“Jade?” I whisper without thinking, my mind tumbling, struck by the fact that this woman looks so similar. No, not similar—the same. This woman looks exactly like the SVP of Posh Pulse. The woman who said I should make the pitch. The woman who gave me an incredible opportunity. The woman I completely and utterly embarrassed myself in front of. A lot like I’m doing right now.

Mirror versions…

Like Kane’s lookalike in the elevator. Like this woman now.

She’s Jade’s mirror version.

I close my mouth. “I’m sorry. You just look so familiar.”

“Lady Marion Highgate. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Her curtsy is slight, the skirts of her silk dress blooming around her feet. “I wish I could say we might have met before, but I have not yet had the good fortune to go outside of this kingdom and make the long journey to Cups.” A rose-tinted blush deepens her russet-brown cheeks.

“What do you want?” Kane’s impatience cuts through the questions swelling within me.

She tilts her chin, and the deep-brown curls framing her face slide back as she looks up at him. She’s elegant and poised and not at all bothered by his swell of anger as she says, “The steward informed me that Lady Ashwood would enjoy a tour of the palace. Is that correct?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kane and I answer at the same time, my excited cooperation smothering his surly retort. I swing my gaze up to him. “That would be lovely.” I smile at him but speak directly to Marion.

Decision made and battle won, I step away from Kane’s looming presence and out into the hall.

“ Hannah …” Kane’s voice is a command, a plea. His hand closes around my wrist with a firmness laced with something darker, something desperate.

I ignore the way his touch makes me shiver and the way my name on his tongue makes me hunger to feel it lick every inch of my skin. It feels like a drug, like power to know I’m the one wanted and not the only one wanting.

“Lord Ashwood,” I murmur, wide-eyed and innocent, my mouth curving into a sinful smile as I bite my lower lip. “You wouldn’t wish me to keep Lady Highgate waiting, now, would you?”

His gaze meets mine, intense and molten, and I half expect it to burn a hole right through his eye patch.

“Do not worry, Lord Ashwood.” A grin plumps the apples of Marion’s cheeks. “I shall have your wife back to you in time to ready yourselves for dinner.”

Kane doesn’t look at her. Instead, his single-eyed gaze wraps itself around me as he lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my palm. “I will be here. Waiting.” His words are a promise, a threat, heavy with an anticipation that sends a trail of fire down my spine.

It takes everything in me to not lift my hands to my lips, consume his kiss, and forget who I am and what I want in favor of losing myself beneath him.

“Until then, Lord Ashwood.” I curtsy, my knees so weak and soft that I nearly fold like a beach chair.

Marion speaks, but I can’t make out what she’s saying through the thrum of my pulse between my ears. I follow her down the hall, retracing the steps Kane and I made when McDougall first took us to our room. Kane’s gaze presses hot against my back, and I’m only able to sip shallow breaths to calm my racing heart until I hear the door close behind me and the lock click.

As if Marion was waiting for the same, the moment he disappears back inside the room and we’re left in the silence of the corridor, she turns to me. “I don’t believe anyone has ever looked at me that way.”

No one has ever looked at me the way Kane does either. I shrug away the shiver that rolls down the back of my neck. “Lord Ashwood is quite…intense.”

“I can see that.” Marion’s laughter bursts through the hall, brushing away the poorly constructed armor I put on to protect myself from all things Kane. “So, Lady Ashwood, where would you like to go first?”

“First, please call me Hannah. I’ve barely been here an hour, and I’m already over being ‘my lady-ed.’”

“They’re less formal in your kingdom?” My ridiculous mistake sends ice water surging through my veins. Luckily, before I have a chance to put my foot further into my mouth, Marion continues. “I should like that, I think. However, I will only call you ‘Hannah’ if you call me ‘Marion.’”

“Done,” I say and let out a relieved exhale. “As far as what I’d like to see first, I’ve heard about the Hall of Crystal Wings and that it has the most beautiful dragonflies. Is it far from here?”

“A bit. It’s on the other side of the palace, but I know just the path to take.”

I follow Marion, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as we head downstairs, that haunting clock still ticking in the background.

“I know you haven’t been here long, but I hope you’ve found our palace to your liking,” Marion says.

“It’s really nice ,” I reply, my gaze brushing over the vaulted ceiling, fresh flowers, and sumptuous fabrics. If this is how Pentacles decorates a hallway, I can only imagine what’s behind some of these doors. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” I clear my throat, catching my mistake before it can spawn questions. “I mean, the palace in Cups is different. Grand and beautiful, but different.”

“And you’ve only seen a small piece of Pentacles. You’ve yet to see my favorite space, which, of course, will be the highlight of our tour.” Marion’s smile is so much like Jade’s that I want to hug her.

We turn an unfamiliar corner, and light pours in through arched windows. I catch a glimpse of the rolling hills beyond, green and bright against the gold, dark wood and scarlet of the palace’s interior.

“Have you lived here long?” I ask, trying to make small talk that won’t give away any of the secrets I have to keep.

“Since I was a girl, really.” Her lips thin, and she hikes her shoulders. Somehow, she makes a simple shrug look elegant and endearing. “I’ve been here since my debut, when the queen chose me to join her ladies-in-waiting. Lord Highgate has an estate in the country, but we haven’t left to visit it for some time. The queen has needed me, while her son, the king, has needed my husband. It’s a great honor, and as you’ve seen, the palace is magnificent. Spending most of my life here, I know its every corner—every hidden corridor.”

“Hidden corridors? That sounds exciting.”

“Oh yes. They come in quite handy when meeting with a lover.” Marion’s eyes crease with a mischievous grin. “Or avoiding one.”

“I feel like there’s a story in there somewhere, Marion.”

She shrugs again, fanning herself with her hand. “There are only a certain number of things to do within the palace walls, and I do not like to be bored.”

Our conversation falls to a comfortable lull as we approach a set of massive double doors. As Marion pushes them open, the air changes, scented with a hint of floor polish and something sweet.

“In here is our first stop,” she announces, her voice echoing slightly in the expansive space. “The Grand Ballroom.”

My breath halts as I take in the ballroom. Sunshine pours in from the tall arched windows, glimmering off the floor, polished to a shine that looks like ice. Rubies drip from unlit chandeliers, painting the gilded walls with spots of cherry red. Through the windows I catch a glimpse of the sunny yellows and verdant greens of the gardens beyond. “It’s incredible.”

“I knew you’d like it.” Marion beams. “I had a sense that you and I share the same sort of taste, and I’m not usually wrong about these things.”

As we walk deeper into the Grand Ballroom, my worries seem to fade, leaving only the shimmering sunlight soaking into the silk-lined walls and the cool air perfumed with the scent of fresh flowers.

There’s no Kane, no getting home, no anxiety about what I’ll do if I can’t find the Empress, who I’ll be if not Lady Ashwood, or if I’ll spend the rest of my days trapped in Towerfall, running from being killed for committing treason or being labeled a witch.

Right now I’m just Hannah, drifting through a ballroom, living out a dream I didn’t know I had.

Marion spins, all grace and poise, her dark curls dancing behind her. My laughter echoes around us as I do the same. Elaborate arrangements of roses, peonies, and lilies sit on the wide marble windowsills as I twirl past. I reach out, my fingertips brushing soft petals.

Breathless, I steady myself against a window, the room still spinning around me.

“It’s been far too long since our last ball.” With a sigh, Marion collapses onto the sill next to me. “If you and Lord Ashwood are willing to make a second journey to Pentacles, I shall invite you to our next one.”

“That would be great.” My smile doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

By that time, I’ll be gone.

Worry catches up to me, squeezing my stomach, and I place my palm over my churning middle.

“Oh, you must be famished since your journey.” She bolts to her feet, literally clutching the string of pearls that rests against her collarbones. “My apologies for not offering to take you to the dining room straightaway.” Her skirts brush mine as she rushes to the double doors. “Before any great feast, McDougall sends trays in and out for tastings. He says he doesn’t have time to visit the kitchens, but I think he secretly likes being waited on and simply takes advantage of the opportunity.”

Now that she’s mentioned it, I am actually hungry. It’s not even dinnertime, but the eggs, stale bread, and awful mead feel like they happened on a different morning. “Will he mind if we taste along with him?”

Marion leads me out of the Grand Ballroom and closes the doors behind us. “It’ll drive him mad,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

I’ve only seen flashes of this type of vibrant, happy energy from Jade, but I’ve always thought the two of us could be friends. That is, if I had time for friends. And if I could afford to go out with them if I did have the time. And if I were ever ballsy enough to be friends with the company’s SVP.

The dining room is easy to spot. It’s a hive of activity, with attendants buzzing back and forth, their arms loaded with firewood and flowers, gold cutlery and gleaming porcelain dishes in preparation for the evening’s feast.

We slip into the room between two women, each carrying a crate of beeswax candles. It’s bathed in the rich warm hues of cream and gold with splashes of crimson buried in the grandeur like sweet ripe strawberries. Candlelight from numerous candelabra, their arms crafted from gold and crystals, casts a sunset-orange glow across the tables being set for the feast.

Intricately carved from dark wood, the trestle tables are laid out in a U shape. The rustle of gold-threaded tablecloths being shaken out and smoothed into place fills the air along with the clinking of cutlery and crystal. The walls are lined with tapestries that depict battles and crownings. They’re rich and alive with color, wallpapering the room in a gallery of stories. Carnelian banners, each emblazoned with a single gold pentacle, hang from the high ceilings, fluttering gently in the steady breeze sneaking in through open windows.

“It looks a bit of a mess now.” Marion points to the space in the center of the room filled with open crates and stacks of plates and linens. “However, the middle area will be cleared, and entertainers will come to delight us with music and dance.”

“Do you have entertainment with every meal?” I ask as if I don’t stream Love Island or some other problematic reality show just to eat a Cup Noodles.

“We used to. As of late, Lord Highgate and I have been taking our meals in our private rooms. When King Lockhart the Second was still alive, we had great formal dinners with entertainers and musicians, and on every full moon, there was a play. Perhaps there will even be one tonight.” Marion’s eyes widen, and she lifts onto her toes. “I adore a play. Any entertainment, really. It’s not often I get to leave the confines of the palace.” Her steps slow, the playful swish of her gown settling into a dreary sort of stillness as her brow furrows and her smile fades into a somber line. “At least, not anymore.”

“They don’t let you leave? I mean, the palace is giant and absolutely gorgeous, but you should be allowed to come and go wherever you want. This isn’t a jail.” My attempt at lightheartedness sours, the laughter bubbling up in my throat turning into a cough as I take in Marion’s expression. She seems to have shrunk, collapsing in on herself like a wilting flower. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s not you,” she whispers, breathy and faint as if afraid of being overheard. She chews her lower lip, her gaze darting around the room.

“Are we being watched?” I ask, the back of my neck prickling with awareness.

Two attendants glide by, carrying trays heavy with swan-necked bottles of decanted wine, fresh figs, grapes, pears, and cheeses. Seizing the opportunity, Marion deftly plucks a handful of swollen grapes, slices of ripe pear and cheese, and a bottle of wine from the tray. She’s back to her former vibrant self, cradling stolen treats.

“The pears are grown year-round in our very own arboretum.” She takes a delicate bite of a thick slice of pear.

I follow her lead, the sweet fruit bursting against my tongue. “Oh my god, this is delicious.”

“The palace’s master gardener has a green thumb unlike any before him.” Marion pauses to pop a grape into her mouth. “The gardens and conservatory are on our tour. You’ll just die when you see—”

“Lady Highgate, Lady Ashwood.” McDougall’s voice rings out over the din of preparations. “The dining room is not yet prepared for guests, as I’m sure my lady understands,” he scolds, his sternness not quite reaching the amused twinkle in his eyes.

“McDougall, you yourself said Lady Ashwood desired a tour. What kind of tour guide would I be if I left out our palace’s beautiful dining room? Besides, watching you conduct the preparations for the feast is a sport all on its own. You should charge admission.” Marion hides her mischievous smile behind another bite of pear.

“Lady Highgate, you never fail to lift my spirits.” With a gentle though firm shooing motion that stirs the white wisps on top of his head, McDougall ushers us back toward the entrance. “I am sure Lady Ashwood would much rather gaze upon King Lockhart’s most recent portrait or the lovely tulip garden than my rushing around like a startled hen.” His mock scowl melts into a smile as we pass through the threshold of the doors.

Marion’s laughter is infectious as we rush down the hall, passing the crystal bottle between us. “I would say he’s more like a chick than a hen with that fluff on top of his head.” She chuckles when we’re far enough away not to be overheard.

“Or a dandelion,” I add, giggling uncontrollably as I take a long pull of velvety-rich blackberry wine.

We round a corner and jerk to a stop at the sight of an imposing man. Luckily, most of the wine is gone and none sloshes on the floor. Our laughter fades, and I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth, trying to compose myself as Marion stiffens beside me.

“My lord.” Her voice is tight, her curtsy brittle and tense under his cold gaze.

“Lady Highgate.” He scowls, his voice heavy with disapproval. “I heard you making your way down the hall long before I saw you.” The light seems to dim around him, his long, thin shadow merging with his dark expression.

“I shall endeavor to be better and control my volume,” Marion says, her bold, strong tone twisted into a submissive whisper.

His small, hooded eyes pierce Marion as he glares down at her. “I expect you to resist your inner feminine urges and not conduct yourself in such a hoydenish manner. You are but a woman, and thus you are susceptible to trivial pursuits and fanciful notions. However, play is for the schoolyard, not for a female of your station.”

Fueled by a sudden rush of protective anger I’m obviously better at accessing for others than I am for myself, I step squarely between Marion and this man who feels like he should dim her glow. “Laughter and joy aren’t dictated by age or sex, my lord . You should really try smiling. It’ll do wonders and make you so much more attractive.”

He stares down at me, and I glower right back up at him. I don’t normally look for a fight, and maybe it’s because my world has been tossed upside down, or maybe I’m searching for any kind of release, but there’s a small part of me that wishes this man would give me a reason to let go.

For a heartbeat, the corridor is utterly silent. Every inch of me tenses, coils, waits. And then his brows lift, a hairline crack in his mask of perpetual disapproval. From the corner of my eye, I spot Marion’s shoulders shake, her mouth tight and pursed.

His gaze begins to shift over to her, and I clear my throat. “If that is all, my lord.” My smile is warm honey on soft baked biscuits, fluid and treacly, and I hope he feels every bit of my insincerity as I dip into my most graceful curtsy.

His bow is slight, practically nonexistent, before he steps around me and thunders down the hall like a storm cloud.

Marion lifts onto her toes and lets out a gasp. “You’re the first I’ve ever heard speak that way to Highgate.”

Her words sink in, and I’m momentarily frozen, realization slackening my jaw and making me blink like I’m buffering. “Highgate…as in Lord Highgate …your husband?”

Curls bounce lightly against her forehead as she nods.

I clap my hand over my mouth. I should have known that I would immediately screw up the first friendship that I’ve made since college. “I am so sorry.”

“You have no reason to be.” She loops her arm around mine, pulling me closer and handing me the bottle of decanted wine as we head down the hall. “My dear husband is an ass. He’s all bark and little-to-no bite. Honestly, I think putting me in my place during the day makes him feel that much better about being completely dominated at night. If you know what I mean.”

A snort of laughter escapes me. “Not firsthand, but I get it.”

Marion’s giggle blends in with the rustling of our skirts as she guides me through a set of doors to our next destination.

This is my first trip to a palace, but I visit the Art Institute of Chicago when they offer free admission, so I know a portrait gallery when I see one. Unlike the bold, rich wall colors within the museum, these walls are painted a muted gold. Soft natural light filters in through tall windows, bathing the ornately gilded frames encasing portraits of stern monarchs and radiant queens that line the long, expansive corridor.

“This will sound strange, but I feel as though we’ve met before. As if we’re picking up where we left off,” Marion says, her gaze drifting along the portraits.

Our new friendship feels as if it’s been years in the making rather than hours, and I wish I could tell her that I do know her, or at least someone very much like her, in another life. My life.

But, no matter how kind Marion is and how much I’m drawn to her, I won’t make the mistake of thinking I can trust her. According to Kane, I can’t trust anyone within the kingdom. This is one time I will listen to him without question.

“In another life, perhaps.” She sighs a soft echo that brushes down the hallway.

“Or another realm.” I’m not joking, but I disguise the admission with a chuckle.

“Another realm?” She laughs. “My gods, I haven’t heard mention of other realms since I was a child and my governess would tell me fantastical tales of the great Tower.” Her cheeks plump, and her brows lift in a way that I’m learning means she has more to say. “Come, let me show you something.”

I take a final sip of wine and set the crystal down as Marion leads me across the room to a painting that dominates the far wall.

I lean in, absorbed by the glittering golden tower stretching up into cotton candy clouds. It stands tall and mighty, crafted from thousands of intricate pieces of gold leaf that catch the light. It’s warm and inviting, glowing from within. My breath catches as the golden tower pulses, alive with a rippling beat that matches each surge of my heart.

“I’ve only seen the Tower from a distance. I didn’t realize it was so beautiful.” My words are muffled and faraway as the golden light from the Tower intensifies, pulling at the center of my chest to something deep within me. I step closer, my slippered feet sinking into the plush carpet blanketing the floor. The painting feels bigger than me, bigger than life, growing as I inch toward it, my senses honing, my skin tingling.

“It most definitely is not so glorious up close. However, according to the stories old attendants and governesses tell their young charges, this is exactly what it looked like decades upon decades ago.” Oblivious to the hold the painting has on me, Marion continues, her words a distant dull hum. “My governess used to say that long ago, before the ways were lost and magick was banished, people traveled between the kingdoms and between realms using the Tower.”

My fingers tingle, and I lift my hand to touch the painting, feel the gold pulse against my fingertips.

“But that’s just a children’s fairy tale.” Marion sighs, gently tearing me away from the portrait of the Tower and from the edge of something that might swallow me whole. “As you well know, there’s no shortcut between kingdoms. And there most definitely aren’t other realms.”

“Yeah, of course,” I say, my gaze lingering on the Tower, my heart aching to get closer.

The Tower made a mistake sending the Empress card to bring me here, but I can’t ignore the way just seeing its gold stones pulls at something deep inside me.

It’s like it knows me, like it’s waiting for me.

But that’s not possible. I’m not a hero. There’s no way the Tower called me here to save the kingdom.