Twenty-Two

My heart hammers against my ribs as I bolt through the gardens, the meticulously manicured lawns and blossoms a blur of greens and pastels. I don’t care that I look nothing like the highborn lady I’m pretending to be as I sprint to the other side of the palace, my skirts hitched up, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I run through a set of open doors and plunge into shadows. My eyes adjust to the candlelight, and my pace quickens with each stride as I retrace my steps down the hall from that first night and my tour with Marion.

Glass dragonflies dot the corridor ahead, affixed to the wall like they’re frozen in amber. I don’t have time to linger, to revel in their beauty. Every muscle in my body propels me forward, my mind racing with the same frantic energy, every doubt and insecurity bubbling to the surface.

Who are you kidding, Hannah? You’ll never find your purse, much less that tarot card.

I move through the Hall of Crystal Wings and into another wide corridor. Fresh flowers spill from vases, and maroon-and-gold-embellished tapestries hang against the stone walls in the spitting image of the castle’s opposite wing. I peek into bedrooms that line the corridor. This hallway is it. It has to be. If not…

I push open the door to the first room. It’s richly furnished with a grand four-poster bed and velvet drapes that brush the floor, but the rug in the center is cream, not the ruby-red one I almost puked all over when I first arrived. After closing the door behind me, I bolt across the hall to the next room. It’s equally grand, with a wall-sized tapestry of King Alderic’s crown of pentacles, but there’s a wardrobe where the window is supposed to be and no rug on the floor.

Highgate’s voice echoes through the hall, followed by another deep baritone I don’t recognize. I freeze, my hand trembling on the knob to the third bedroom. My palms are slick, my panic mounting, my anxiety roiling, bouts of negativity spearing my thoughts.

You’re never getting home. You’ll never nail a promotion. You’ll never fit in or be enough to keep a man. You’re going to die here. You’re going to—

“Shut up!” I whisper-yell at the voice in my head that’s always been better at breaking me down than building me up. Highgate can get fucked and so can his friend.

Not caring about being caught, about having to concoct another lie, I throw open the door to the room with a force that rattles its hinges. The moment I step inside, I know it’s the one. Everything is just as I remember—the scarlet velvet covering the walls, the gold-framed paintings of seascapes and garden cottages, the giant armoire dusted with gold leaf, and the matching four-poster bed. Relief crashes over me as I close the door and sag against it.

Relief isn’t the only feeling I have as my eyes scan the room where I first landed in Towerfall. Where I first met Kane. Where he first tried to save me from myself.

“No.” I shake my head, scolding myself again. This isn’t about Kane or Stephanie or anyone else. This is about me. I want to go home. I want to leave Towerfall and never look back.

Because of Kane. And Stephanie’s doppelg?nger.

I feverishly search the room, rounding the bed and lifting the drapes to find my purse. Finally, I drop onto my hands and knees and crawl back to where this strange yet similar realm came into focus around me. I crush the soft ruby-red rug beneath my hands and knees as I shift forward. Resting my palm on the carpeting, I grab the silk bed skirt, my heart practically tied in a knot from wishing, hoping, praying to anyone who will listen that my way home is really, truly here. I hold my breath and lift the fabric. There, hiding in the dark, curled up and waiting for me like a cat, is my purse.

I scramble forward, my hands trembling as I grasp the strap and pull it into the light. Finding this purse, the just-got-hired-at-a-huge-marketing-firm gift I bought for myself, is overwhelming. Tears blur my vision as I clutch my way out of this nightmare against my chest. I quickly swipe them away and sink back onto my heels.

I did it. I found exactly what I was looking for all on my own. Turns out, I just needed the right motivation.

Adrenaline brought me here, but now that I have what I came for, the fear of getting caught takes hold. I could explain getting lost in a palace the size of North Bridge, but how do I explain this? I frown down at the bag that’s been practically carrying my whole life for the past three years. Sure, Ivy said I don’t belong, but no one knows how many lies I’ve told to get here. No one except Kane.

And he deserves to know I’m leaving. More than that, I want to tell him. To see the look on his face when I say I’m going to disappear as quickly as I arrived. That he can deal with being Lord Ashwood, with banishment, with Four and the king and whatever else he’s not telling me. I could have helped him, returned the favor for him saving me all those times, but no matter how much I want to, I won’t. This time, I’ll be the one to leave first.

The Tower, the Empress, they know my being here is a mistake as much as I do. They have to be as desperate as I am to put both worlds back the way they should be and send me home.

With a deep breath, I square my shoulders and make my way toward the door. I ignore the part of me that’s relieved to see Kane one more time before I go—hopeful that this last meeting will change everything.

I open the door and peek out. My pulse whooshes in my ears as I wait for a team of guards to descend or lightning to strike. When nothing happens, I stride into the hall, fueled by fake confidence. I read an article once—partially read an article once—that said women who walk with confidence are less likely to be assaulted. Hopefully that means they’re also less likely to be stopped and questioned about having a bag full of items that don’t exist in this realm.

Chin up and superior smirk firmly in place, I march back through the palace the way I came and out into the gardens. The evening air is cooler now, the garden bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Gravel crunches under my slippered feet, mingling with the distant hum of crickets as I loop around the boundary of the verdant maze and cut through a narrow path of evergreen shrubs taller and wider than I am.

Both pretending to be Cups nobility to access the palace and walking around the grounds with what is best described as contraband are against the rules, but something else is off. Something that frosts my spine and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.

I pause, but the crunch of gravel doesn’t stop. I whip around, heart slamming against my ribs, purse clutched to my chest.

Lord Highgate smiles, his eyes gleaming in the sun’s dusky glow. “Lady Ashwood,” he says, smooth and low, his languid steps bringing him closer. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here.”

“Following women who are out alone at night isn’t a good look.”

“The sun has only just started to set.” He looks up, and my gaze automatically follows. “It’s not quite night. Not yet.”

The crunch of gravel brings him closer, and I shift back, evergreen needles scratching my dress. “Do you need something, or—”

“What do you have there, Lady Ashwood?” He peers down at the leather bundle in my arms, and I hold it closer, sinking in on myself to hide the evidence that Ivy was right—that I don’t belong.

“It’s not really any of your business,” I say, trying to edge past him, but he blocks my path, his smirk widening.

“No need to rush off on my account,” he purrs, stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking about our previous encounters and how much of a spirited, passionate woman you are.”

“Do me a favor, Highgate. Stop thinking about me.” I glare at him, my patience wearing thin.

“Oh”—he tosses his head back with a laugh—“the gods themselves couldn’t get me to stop thinking about you, Lady Ashwood.”

My stomach tightens. “Go away, Highgate.”

“Yes,” he breathes, his eyes darkening with a twisted kind of excitement. “Tell me again.”

“What?” I blink, sinking farther back into the greenery.

“Tell me how much you despise me. No woman has ever talked to me the way you do. I can’t stop thinking about it. Gods, the way you speak to me. Incredible.”

I shake my head, a panicked chuckle clawing at my throat. “I don’t have time for this. Go bother someone else.”

His expression morphs, and he shifts closer, his breath hot on my face. “Yes, Lady Ashwood, more,” he whispers, his long fingers trailing over the lip of my purse. “Tell me to leave, that you hate me.”

“Are you serious?” I spit out, my skin crawling as I jerk my purse away. “I actually want you to leave. Seriously. Not in a kinky way.”

His eyes gleam, and he leans in, pushing me farther into the shrubbery. “Oh, Lady Ashwood, your words cut me deeply,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with excitement. “But it only fuels my desire. I revel in your disdain. What is happening to me? What have you done to affect me so? And why does it feel as if I am only now awakening to life?”

“Get away from me.” My voice is cold as I slip my hand into the outer pocket of my purse.

“Such fire. I do enjoy a challenge—a hunt. And you, my foulmouthed vixen, are the perfect prey.” He reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my face, but I swat his hand away.

I stand tall and glare up at him, my fingers curling around the canister nestled in a bed of bodega receipts. “Leave, Highgate, before you regret it.”

“I could never regret being in your presence, having you lash me with your words.” He leans forward and drags his nose through my hair, taking a deep quaking breath.

“How about this?” I blurt, changing tack as I shuffle to the side, trying to put as much distance between us as possible so I don’t also poison myself with a cloud of pepper spray. “I’m going to go inside, and you’re not going to follow me. You’re going to wait right here. Still as a statue.”

“And what if I can’t resist finding you again?” His voice trembles with sick anticipation.

“You’ll be punished, severely punished.”

“Ah, yes.” He shudders. “And will you be administering the punishment, Lady Ashwood?”

“I think I got that backward.” I force a smile and continue to skirt around him. “What I meant to say is that you won’t be punished if you follow me. More than that, if you move from this spot, I’ll never say another mean word to you again.”

He stiffens. “I shall wait here and not move a muscle until you command me to do so. Although I do not know how long I can control my inner hunter.”

I squeeze past him, nearly gagging as he pulls in another lungful of my air. No longer blocked by a thick row of greenery and a man who takes no as an emphatic yes, I scramble away from him. My heart pounds in my chest as I put distance between us and pull out the canister of pepper spray. True to his word, he doesn’t move, his only flicker of confusion a slight crease between his brows.

“This is why women choose the bear.”

With a swift motion, I slip my thumb under the cap’s flip top and jam it down onto the release button. Pepper spray squirts from the nozzle and douses his face. He screams and drops to his knees, clawing at his eyes and erupting into hacking coughs that fill the garden.

Canister still in my fist, I stride into the Hall of Mirrors with the confidence of a man following a woman in the dark.