“Artifacts, books, coin, seedlings,” Molkan explained. “Even magic-infused items used to help ward our palace walls.”
“How do you ward a place with items?”
Molkan flashed his teeth in a quick grin. “They contain my blood, you see, but once they’re removed from my land, they become nothing more than collectibles for the curious.”
I frowned. “Florian takes such things from you?”
His brow arched. “You say his name with significant ease.”
My cheeks threatened to flush and give away all of the mistakes I’d made within enclosed rooms and carriages—skies, even atop a horse.
But I maintained eye contact, relieved when Molkan said, “He and his beastly blood-drinking ilk take all that and more, yes.”
Now would be a good time to ask why, but I already knew.
He seemed to assume as much, nodding once with a rough exhale. “You have less questions than I thought you would.”
“I was almost killed,” I said, ignoring the urge to touch my throat. “And my lifelong desire for answers is the reason for that, so…” I smiled as best I could, and nervously combed my fingers through my blood-streaked hair. “I think I just need a moment to remember them all.” My fingers snagged on a small twig. I pulled it free, inspecting another reminder of what had happened on those mountain roads in my lap.
“So he finally decided to do it,” Molkan said with a huff. “I was beginning to think it might not happen.”
“You knew he intended to kill me?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from rising in shock.
“Oh, with certainty.” He laughed at my expression. “I’m not the one to harbor anger toward. You were placed in the middle lands for this exact reason, young one.”
I looked down at the twig. “To keep me from Florian.”
Silence arrived, and I almost thought he’d leave until he linked his hands over his stomach and seemed to come to a decision. “When Lilitha died, he vowed to take everything I loved,” Molkan said, voice low and more rough. “We do not love in the way humans do, but when we care for something, it is almost the same thing.”
“And if you do love something?” I asked.
Molkan smirked. “Then the fiery pits of Nowhere will extinguish before anyone gets away with taking it from us.”
I swallowed. “And Florian loved his sister.”
“As though he were her father,” he said, almost wistful, almost regretful, and as if recalling the male Florian once was. “Mother Mythayla knows Hammond Hellebore ceased wishing to breathe after Lilitha’s birth resulted in the death of his beloved queen and mate.”
He knew them—had known them well. I couldn’t resist asking, “Why did you kill her?”
I thought his amused hum would be all the answer I’d receive. But he sighed and said, “We were all close, as they say in the mortal realm”—he waved his hand—“once upon a time.” Then, for what might have been the first time since I woke, Molkan averted his eyes from me.
He looked down at the patch of woven carpet covering the stone floor at his bare feet. “I think we’ll let you get acquainted with this home I’ve kept you from.” He rose from the chair, his height staggering. “Before I give you information that might just make you wish to leave it.”
A humorless laugh escaped me. “After everything…” I shook my head. “Nothing much can surprise me now.”
The door creaked open, revealing more light stone.
Molkan stood in the doorway for a prolonged moment, then said, “I do advise against tempting our dear goddess to prove you wrong. I’ll have one of the servants along to show you where to bathe shortly.”
The door closed with an echoing click.
I stared at it while his warning chilled the sun-warmed room, unsure what to do now that I’d received everything I thought I’d never get.
A male with shorn white hair arrived within the hour.
He said nothing as we walked down the arched sandstone hall toward windows in the same shape. They lined the expansive length of the hall we entered, giving view to rows of gardens and fruit trees beneath.
Beyond them, woods backed and curled around a glimmering lake to meet with small stone buildings. It was odd to see water that wasn’t frozen, and even more startling to glimpse all of the fresh vegetation, green and ripe and swelling with life.
It shouldn’t have come as such a shock, for I’d already known the seasons of Baneberry rotated between autumn and spring. Yet the lack of ice upon the mild breeze crawling through the arched windows caused something within me to flinch.
Something that recoiled at the mere thought of never feeling the cool touch of Hellebore again.
Of course, that was ridiculous when the source of such weather was a king who’d pulled me from my old skin with such expertise, I’d have never known he was nothing but a hunter savoring the chase of his next kill.
My steps slowed at the sight of the rumored sandstone wall.
It encircled Baneberry Palace, stretching beyond into the tree line feathering the large lake. Guards in brown and green uniforms walked along the wall and stood within three towers. I assumed at least three more stood upon the other side of the palace. Silver armor glinted from chests, heads, and shoulders.
The male I trailed stopped at a darkened doorway to the springs I could hear beneath the steps behind him, and bowed.
“What is your name?” I asked as he began to walk away.
He paused and made a face, then motioned with his hands. Not understanding what he meant, I shook my head.
His mouth pinched, and he looked over his slim shoulder. Looking back at me, he opened his mouth.
To show me he had no tongue.
He closed it and gave me a grim smile, then walked back down the hall to the one containing the room I’d woken in.
I took the winding stone steps down to the gurgling springs, light flaring from sconces on the damp walls, and thought of Delen. Thought of why I’d now met two males from Baneberry who were without the means to talk.
There were two springs to choose from. One was long, the length of a small dam, and the other as small as a garden pond. Heat rose in tempting curls from the latter. Needing something not so sweltering upon my skin, I decided against it.
I stripped out of my ruined clothing and carefully climbed the mossy steps into the wide-open warmth. Rocks lined each end of the large spring and rimmed the smaller one. Moisture dripped down the stone of the underground chamber in fascinating rivulets.
Home.
I dunked my head underwater with a smile.
As I emerged, I pushed hair from my face and ran my hands down my neck. My fingers faltered over raised and tender skin. Indeed, someone had healed me, but Fellan’s attempt to slit my throat might leave a scar.
And if he’d been successful, the daring trio would have needed to remove my head or stab me in the heart for certainty.
I shivered, leaning against the stone as I attempted to calm an onslaught of racing thoughts and breaths I couldn’t seem to control.
“You’ve been a busy little changeling.”
Water crashed as I instantly covered my breasts. Though it was dark and murky enough that he’d hopefully only see the outline of my body at most.