Lyra turned on her heel and made her way in the direction they’d traveled during the day, toward the throne room again. She hadn’t worked up enough nerve to explore the hall. Not yet. Maybe she’d missed details in the throne room, blinded by so much glamour packed into one place. Lyra hoped to find out more answers than her avoidant host was willing to give.
As she walked along, the mirrors watched the entire way. Their invasive regularity sent goosebumps along her arms, and she didn’t quite trust the way shadows shifted out of focus every time she peered into them. Lyra squinted, trying to make out any shapes in the darkness at the end of the hallway, but she didn’t spot any movement. Good, she hadn’t woken him. She strained her hearing, but apart from the howling of the wind outside, no footsteps echoed through the hall. A breath she’d been holding escaped, and she stepped forward.
“Lost?” a familiar voice came from behind her.
Ice trickled through her veins as she came to a halt.
4
When she spun around, Moro waited behind her. Shadows steeped into his dark hair until she couldn’t distinguish the difference. In the sparse light of the hallway, the curve of his brows and the set of his mouth wasn’t clear. Those pale gold eyes glittered in the threads of moonlight, but the mischief had vanished.
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. How had he found her? She’d scanned her surroundings every step of the way, and she hadn’t heard him approach. Did he wander the halls at all waking hours? She sucked in a sharp breath to compose herself before this situation grew any more uncomfortable.
Lyra ran a hand through her hair, feigning a sheepish smile. “I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep. Being in the room wasn’t helping, so I thought a walk might calm my mind.”
Some truth couldn’t hurt here. Better he think she wandered the halls on a childish whim than with intent. For a moment, the darkness threatened to devour him, leaving just his paper-pale skin and those too-intelligent eyes. Lyra stepped back a pace on reflex. In these shadows she lost any sense of the charming, lonely man she’d first met. She swallowed, but her throat dried, and she couldn’t think of anything else to say as the silence spread.
At last he nodded in response, and a slow smile curled his lips. The pressure between them eased, but she sensed an undercurrent that hadn’t existed until now. “Of course, I understand. I’m afraid the castle’s splendors are better left for daytime. You should rest in your room to try and get as much sleep as you can before the morning. If you’d like, tomorrow we can visit the gardens.”
“I’d love that.” She offered a smile of her own, forcing the enthusiasm. With the way adrenaline rushed through her, she didn’t have to try very hard.
Moro placed a hand on her shoulder, and she fought the urge to shrug it off as he guided her down the hall. The strong way his fingers curled into her shoulder didn’t quiet her unease. Within seconds they stood in front of her room, but he watched, unblinking, as she climbed into bed. Only after she’d pulled the covers over her did he shut the door for the second time that night.
The moment the door clicked, the adrenaline came crashing down, leaving her shaky and sick in the aftermath. Pins and needles pricked her fingertips, and had she been standing, her legs would be quaking too. She gripped the blankets tight to her chest, but after the jolt to her system, she couldn’t fall back asleep. If she tried venturing out again, he’d find her within seconds, and next time her flimsy excuse wouldn’t work.
A sigh escaped from her throat as she lay back, staring at the darkened ceiling.
Think.
The man wasn’t omniscient—at least, from what she’d gauged so far he didn’t have the ability to read minds. Yet every time she’d left her room, he’d been there to greet her within minutes, sometimes seconds. Unlike the places back home where she could pin it on cameras and find them by a blinking red light, this place seemed to operate on medieval functions and magic. She hadn’t noticed any system in the ceilings. The only things she’d passed in the hallway had been all those infernal mirrors.
Unless…the mirrors weren’t for decoration.
She shuddered, her grip tightening on the sheets. When she’d been walking along the corridor, she’d dismissed the shifting shadows as her overactive imagination. What if they weren’t? Everything else in the castle responded to his whim, so it didn’t seem a drastic leap that he could use those mirrors like a looking glass. They’d been in every hallway and every room, meaning anywhere she walked in the castle, he’d be able to find her. Sickness descended like the flu. The saccharine taste of the food clung like a film to the back of her tongue, oiling her throat.
Outside, the blizzard swirled with the same rampant wildness, the storm unceasing. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t discern an end to the white expanse beyond her window. For the first time since she’d arrived, her distance from home lanced through her with an exquisite sharpness. Here in between, other humans were far, far away. In following the sound of the bell through the forest, she’d ended up trapped in an icy castle without another soul around, apart from the cold prince holding all the control.
No matter how she tried, she couldn’t convince her eyes to stay closed. Sleep would be evading her tonight. Instead, Lyra remained still, staring at the shadows shifting along the ceiling as the hours rolled by until the first rays of dawn pierced the sky.
Once morning arrived, she pulled on her oversized combat boots, which had dried at this point, and paced back and forth before the door. She’d made sure to stay out of sight from the mirror because the moment she passed the one in her room or stepped into the corridor full of them, Moro would find her. At least, that’s what she guessed given her theory. She scrubbed her face with her palms as if she could open her eyes and all this would melt away. Like she’d wake up in her bed at the trailer, waiting for her dad to come back from his long work assignment. No such luck.
She heaved a sigh and fixed her mask into place. If she didn’t appear innocent and enamored with this realm, she didn’t trust he’d let her go. In fact, the idea she could just waltz out the front door seemed naïve at this point. He’d never forced her to stay but met every mention of her returning home with subtle resistance. This had been a surreal escape at first, but now as the fetters locked into place, the stifling imprisonment weighed her down like the walk home from school to a trailer where she wasn’t welcome.
A shiver crawled down her spine when she placed her hand on the doorknob, but she pushed through the discomfort and forced herself out the door. After a minute or so of walking through the hall with those mirrors winking at her under the bright sunlight, footsteps echoed through the place at a slow, even keel. Lyra continued in the direction of the sound, with her hands slipped into her pockets. After all, she’d learned last night he wouldn’t allow her to roam free.
Moro rounded the corner, the charming smile plastered on his face coming off hollow in the wake of her discoveries. Sunbeams danced all around him, never sinking in, as if his skin resisted the light itself. From the moment she’d met Moro, she had tried to humanize him, but in the daylight, those different features grew all the clearer, from the razor-sharp chin and cheekbones to his pointed ears.
“Sleep well, I hope?” he asked, stepping in line with her.
Lyra tugged on the ends of her hair, faking embarrassment, a shade off from the discomfort she didn’t have to pretend to feel. “I apologize for being such a nuisance last night. I never intended to wake you. I was wondering if we could see those gardens you mentioned before I go on my way today?”
She walked a tightrope with every word, one misstep from revealing her hand. Lyra wanted him to believe nothing had changed, so of course she’d mention leaving as she had every day prior. However, she wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d let her go now. Chances were, by the time they finished their stroll through the gardens, night would have fallen again, and she’d find herself compelled to stay.
“Never a nuisance.”
He waved this hand at the comment, guiding them down the yawning corridor in the direction they’d traveled the other day. “Your presence here has been a balm to my soul. Year after year alone in this place had begun to wear upon me—I hadn’t realized how much until you arrived. It’s been such a relief having someone else to talk to.” He offered a half smile, but the pain glowed in his golden eyes.
Lyra’s shoulders sank. She couldn’t help but feel his loneliness as keenly as her own. Despite her distrust, Lyra had the nagging doubt that maybe she’d misunderstood his intent. Perhaps he wasn’t the monster or jailer she’d chalked him up to be and had just grown unused to human interaction.
She glanced to the mirrors, unable to look him in the eye as guilt weighed her down. “I needed this escape. Life at home hasn’t been the best, and this is the sort of castle you could spend a lifetime exploring.”
The tension from him dissipated, the sadness banished as he responded to her words with a soft smile. She was reminded of the wonder and excitement that’d filled her upon first arriving here, how he had appeared lonely and different, but she’d felt a camaraderie all the same. Moro had saved her from freezing to death in front of the castle. Could he really mean her harm?
They strolled along dappled corridors filled with the sunlight that glinted off the many mirrors lining the way. Despite the conflicting thoughts crowding her mind, she couldn’t shake her distrust. As they got closer to the hallway they’d traipsed down yesterday, the more infrequent the rooms grew, as did the mirrors. Carved windows showcased antechambers made of icy floors and walls that glowed under this beautiful, sunlit day. The iron door covered in roses greeted them from the end of the hall, the familiar, chilly breezes sweeping their way.
As they approached, Moro quickened his step to grab the door and hold it open. “After you, milady. I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
Lyra doubted anything in this place could disappoint her—everything she’d seen so far had been magnificence beyond her greatest imaginings. She strode out onto the carved steps descending to the ground level, each one dripping with icicles. Until she’d walked outside the castle, she hadn’t grasped how high up they were on the second floor. From this ledge, she could see the landscape for miles around, even with the drifting snow and the fierce blizzard beyond the gates. Yet apart from dense pines and fields of white, she didn’t spot any trail or forest signaling the way home.
Even though several gusts of wind caused her to shiver and snowflakes fell to melt on her skin, she didn’t feel the need to run and retrieve her jacket. Just as the inside of the castle remained at a comfortable, if not brisk, temperature, so did the grounds. From the very appearance of this place in her woods, the castle of ice hadn’t followed the rules that existed in her realm.
“Where’s this mysterious garden of yours?” she asked. “I couldn’t find a rock if I threw it three feet in front of me with all this snow.”
He laughed, the sound holding the sharp resonance of shattering glass, and he darted down the steps with a speed she couldn’t hope for, each step sure and even. “The castle protects its own. Even with all the snowfall, the ice garden remains pristine.”
Lyra shuddered. If the ice garden contained marvels like the eerie statues in the ballroom, she’d be satisfied with sitting this adventure out. However, she’d already committed, so she rallied her nerves and took off down the stairs after him. Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, a marked stone pathway cut through the light dusting on the ground.
She hopped from stone to stone, careful to keep her boots from absorbing too much snow. Whenever—if—the opportunity arose to escape, she’d prefer dry boots to start. Dwelling on those thoughts fed the gaping maw of worry that grew with every passing day she remained in this place. The breeze tossed her hair around, and the occasional snowflake dotted her nose—altogether it made for a gorgeous winter day. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve reveled in the brisk wind and the solemn sunlight. However, no matter how she tried, her guard wouldn’t lower.
As they reached the back of the castle, the first fringes of the garden made an appearance. A wrought iron fence tipped with fleur de lis traveled the length of the pathway, and the occasional trellis stretched up the castle walls, covered in iced roses. Coniferous shrubs, kept precisely sheared, lined the way, but even these small touches paled in comparison to the ice gardens displayed out back.
Lyra’s experience with gardening revolved around the small patch of dirt she tried to grow vegetables in behind the trailer or the sweeping Victorian ones she’d imagined from the countless books she’d read. What lay beyond stole her breath away.
While the blizzard raged on beyond the castle, only a thin layer of snow coated the landscape here, a brilliant, untouched topcoat. The gardens spanned for miles, individual sections designed with the same sort of careful artistry that existed throughout the castle. A hedge maze dominated the center, the dark green needles providing a flush of color to contrast the snow on the ground and the winter dust overtop. The segmented areas of the gardens surrounded the maze like petals on a flower.
The ice roses she’d passed grew in more plentiful arrangements here, covering pine trellises that reached several feet from the ground. In the center of the first section, a small bench and archway adorned with more of the same allowed for a quiet view of the garden. An entire field of tulips lay in another direction, these in varying shades from ice blue to cerulean. Yet another section did away with ice flowers, preferring a more permanent exhibit of wrought iron blooms. The spiral pattern led to the center where a large statue of a hooded woman cast a long shadow across the sector.
Moro led her along the path, and as they walked past hanging ice globes dotting the way, light blossomed from inside each one, making the most gorgeous lanterns she’d ever seen.
“I suppose this is a different landscape than you’re used to,” he said, casting a glance in her direction.
“Am I gawking too much?” she asked, grinning despite her reservations. “I live in the worst area of my town. We see more rubble and decay than cultivated beauty like this.”
He shook his head, slowing his pace so they walked side by side. “It pains me that you must return there. A lovely woman like yourself deserves a castle as stunning as this.”
She digested his words—charming, sure. However, charms fell flat when no trust had been built. On her third day here, she knew next to nothing about the man, and if she tried to dig, he would pirouette around her questions like he had already. Lyra didn’t know where he came from—not really—what he was, or why he remained in this castle when he wanted to leave. She’d been an open book about her dissatisfaction with her home life, but he’d dodged delving any deeper into his personal history. She had yet to decide whether that was coincidence or not.
“You’re right about the castle,” she agreed. “This is a much more beautiful place to live.” She didn’t give him any definitive, but she’d cling to politeness like a lifeboat.
Politeness had helped her blend in the past, to remain unobtrusive so she could gauge a situation from behind the barrier. The past couple of years, those skills were one of the few ways she’d been able to dodge beatings from Melinda. The woman didn’t spare the rod.
Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Moro focused on the next section of the garden they crossed into. “Not that this garden doesn’t have its dangers. See that over there?” he pointed toward a small pile of rubble forming a miniature hill coated in snow. “It might appear one cohesive mass, but if you tried to climb up the hill, the loose rocks would slide and bury you alive.”
Lyra swallowed, hard, as she craned her neck to get a better view. She couldn’t quite be sure if he intended the comment as a threat or warning. On further investigation, his words proved true—certain sections of the hill caved in more than others, and in some spots the defined rocks had gotten loose, giving peeks of slate from underneath the white canopy.
“How did you come
to this place?” she asked, her voice ringing through the quiet of the garden. If she remained silent, the chaos in her mind would consume her.
“I was invited to stay. This castle has been my home for too many years to count.” His tone sharpened, the sole hint she broached on a delicate subject since his expression didn’t betray an ounce of annoyance. Indeed, whenever they broached anything personal, he avoided those topics with the same precise grace he’d danced around them yesterday. “After all, who wouldn’t want to live in a place like this?”
She wouldn’t—not for an eternity, but she didn’t voice her opinion. Instead, she murmured in agreement, keeping her true thoughts quiet and safe. The midday sun peaked now, signaling the start of afternoon. A frown hit her face before she could hide it. Either the hours passed at a different pace here, or the days ran shorter than back home. Regardless, another day was moving faster than she was comfortable with, and by the time they’d returned inside the castle, night would be encroaching. She had the feeling he’d make the same suggestion as the nights before.
Stay. Stay in the castle.
Everything he’d said and his actions thus far had gravitated toward the one sentiment over and over again. However, she needed to discern whether he did it on purpose and what objective he had in mind. If she seized the moment now, she could insist on heading home. Lyra could demand they leave the garden and he offer her a way to the woods she’d come from.
Yet the sinking feeling in her gut warned her, same as it had yesterday. Lyra couldn’t explain the instinct she followed, but here in this foreign land, she wasn’t about to abandon her gut impulses. Even though her father might’ve returned home at this point, since she had no idea how time passed here, Lyra needed to chance another night. Before making any sudden decisions, she needed answers.
A Reflection of Ice Page 5