Dark wood and smooth white walls dominate the space. The open upper level corridors are somewhat like the ones in Ranhold, since I’m able to see clear across to the other side, every staircase and hallway visible within the squared center.
Except here, there are elaborate wood carvings that stretch from the pillars that secure the staircases, going all the way up to the ceiling. The thickly pitched wood reminds me of the inside of a musical instrument, complete with curved hollows and the daintiest of copper strings pulled from the points in the middle of the ceiling, leading down like draped tapestry to the arched windows.
“This is amazing,” I say, hands curling around the smooth wood beneath my fingers.
Across from us and down a level, I can see the others, just as they split off from a lower staircase. Lu continues down one direction, while Judd and Digby turn right and go down the hall across the castle from us, and Judd leads a limping Digby inside.
“He’s more hurt than he’s letting on,” I murmur with concern.
Slade slides up beside me. “His injuries were pretty extensive, but Hojat is the best mender there is, and if he truly didn’t think he should’ve made the trip, he would’ve put his foot down. Digby is tough, and I have another good mender here too. He’ll be looked after.”
“He was my guard for a long time. The only one I could ever trust. I always kind of looked at him like a sort of father figure. He didn’t just guard me. He protected me. Sometimes, even from other guards.”
I see Slade’s head turn to look at me.
“Midas was always very strict about me being guarded in Highbell, but he wasn’t as good about his threats as he thought he was,” I explain. “It was a common occurrence for some of the guards to behave…less than gentlemanly.”
I see his fingers tighten against the railing, and then with a perfectly serious tone, he says, “If you give me names, I’ll rot their brains from their skulls.”
A startled laugh escapes me as I turn toward him. “I think a lot of them didn’t really have impressively thriving brains to begin with, so we’ll just let them rot in their own time.”
“Fine,” he says, sounding slightly disappointed.
I laugh again, but a yawn takes over the tail end of it, making my jaw nearly crack from how wide it is.
Slade reaches down and takes my hand in his. “Come on, let’s get some real sleep, on a real bed with real pillows and blankets.”
“You really know how to sweet talk.”
Chuckling, he leads me down a set of stairs, but instead of going to the opposite end where the others are staying, we keep on this opposite end. We pass a guard on our way, who tips her head down in greeting, shooting me a curious look as we go.
The hallway walls on this level are studded with strips of the same carved and curving wood, making the ceilings appear taller. Every few feet, there’s a window tucked into the wall’s notches, the bubbled glass plaited with strips of iron. It’s too dark to see anything outside, so our reflections are all the windows reveal for now.
At the end of the corridor, Slade opens the door and then slips to the side, holding out a hand for me. As soon as I enter, there’s an immediate sense of familiarity, because the room just feels like Slade. There’s a masculine fireplace molded with an intricately carved black corbel. Set on the floor in front of it, there’s a trio of dark sofas and a table at the center.
On the opposite end is a doorway, and Slade leads me through there where I find a bed set on a raised platform, four stone pillars at each corner made of the same stone as the floor. It makes the big bed look even bigger, and the black and dark green bedding looks so plush that I can’t wait to drop right inside of it.
“Do you need anything to eat?” Slade asks behind me as he gently removes my coat.
“I think I’m too tired for food right now.”
He takes my coat and disappears into another door where I can see clothes and weapons hanging inside. I hear the telltale sound of boots being dropped, and then he comes out again, his own coat gone as well. In his hands is a shirt that he hands to me. “We’ll get you some proper clothing tomorrow, but for tonight, you can wear my shirt.”
“That seems a little intimate,” I tease as I pluck the clothing from his fingers.
Slade chuckles. “If you consider that intimate, then I’m in great need of making some things up to you.” He reaches one arm behind him and strips the shirt from his body in one smooth motion that makes my mouth water, gaze pivoting to his abs.