Garden of Shadows (Dark Gardens Series Book 1)

by Meara Platt

  There wasn’t a sound other than her own quickening breaths… and the shallow breaths of someone or something lurking just outside her door.

  If this was Lord Eastbourne’s idea of a trick, she didn’t find it at all amusing. “I’m no coward,” she muttered, rising from the bed and grabbing the sturdy candlestick from her night table. She lit its taper so that she would have light to guide her as well as a useful weapon should she need it, and then entered the hall. “Lord Eastbourne, where are you? Please, answer me.”

  As though in response to her question, a twinkling light danced up the stairs and came toward her. Since it seemed to be moving on its own, she thought it was a reflection of her own candle’s light, but it shimmered too brightly and moved in flits and darts like a firefly dancing on a summer’s eve.

  The light circled her only once before shooting down the hall, leaving a gleaming ribbon of starlight in its wake. A refrain from a children’s game began to spin in Julia’s head, faster and faster as she followed the starlight. The simple tune resounded in her ears… come out, come out, wherever you are. Come out, come out, wherever you are.

  “Here I am, Julia,” Lord Eastbourne suddenly called from behind her.

  “Goodness! You startled me.” She whirled to face him, her hand over her heart to soothe its rapid beat. “How is Charlie?”

  But no one was there.

  His voice rang out again from behind her. It sounded oddly high-pitched and strained. “Here I am, Julia.”

  She spun once more, no longer certain the voice belonged to Lord Eastbourne. He couldn’t have slipped past her unnoticed. Unless she was dreaming. Was she?

  She touched a hand to her forehead and winced. Her pain seemed real, but her senses were still foggy. “My lord, I can’t see you.”

  “I’m right here, Julia.”

  She heard his laughter, a little deeper and sounding more masculine. A nearby door opened, the one to her father’s chamber, but by the time she reached it, the door had once again closed. Why chase shadows when she ought to be safely huddled in her bed? Besides, her head was now pounding and she was shivering, for she’d scrambled after the earl in her bare feet and the floor was cold.

  She ought to have put on her slippers.

  The door swung open as she was about to turn away. “Come in, Julia.”

  “Lord Eastbourne?” It didn’t sound like him and the little voice in her head was telling her to run, run, run!

  But she couldn’t.

  She was suddenly drawn into her father’s chamber, as though someone had tied a chain to her heart and was now tugging on it. She tried to scream, but couldn’t. She blinked her eyes against the vibrant, golden light now permeating the room. A moment ago, it had been as dark as a moonless night.

  She blinked again, and as her eyes adjusted to the bright, golden light, she realized that she was alone in the room. Another glance around revealed that everything was in perfect order. Lord Eastbourne, she noted, had made his bed and neatly folded the clothes he’d worn yesterday on a chair beside the bed’s footboard. The earl was a deliberate man who preferred order to his personal belongings as well as to his personal affairs.

  She paused by the chair and ran her hand along his white lawn shirt, taking a deep breath to inhale the subtle traces of pine and sandalwood clinging to the elegant fabric. The sensation of her skin against the soft lawn of his shirt… his shirt… and the subtle scent of him clinging to it, sent a rush of warmth through her body.

  Much needed warmth.

  She gazed at the bed, wondering how it would feel to lie beside Lord Eastbourne, experience the heat of his skin as she nestled against his bare chest.

  Splendid, she imagined.

  Goodness! She put a hand to her cheek to still the hot flush of embarrassment. Why was she having these wild thoughts about Lord Eastbourne? He was handsome, to be sure. But she had met handsome men before and not been particularly stirred by any of them.

  “Forget him, Julia,” a presence spoke from behind her. But when she whirled to face him, once again, no one was there.

  “Who are you?”

  Rich laughter echoed off the walls.

  She turned again, following the sound, and saw an odd, swirling mist hovering beside her father’s window.

  “What are you?” she whispered, fearful but also fascinated as those swirling wisps began to writhe and twist into a human form, into the shape of a man.

  But this was no man. As its face took shape, she was startled by its cold handsomeness and the icy clarity of its blue eyes. It was watching her, coming for her.

  The voice in her head once again urged her to run, run, run!

  She managed no more than a step before the door slammed shut, trapping her inside. The being had not fully taken shape yet, its body still wrapped in a thin mist and its arms resembling spiny tendrils reaching out for her.

  Now almost like human arms, but not quite.

  No! “Lord Eastbourne! Help!” she cried as something cold and thin grabbed her ankles and wouldn’t let go. She screamed again, but the golden light that drenched the room seemed to absorb all sound, just as it was absorbing all warmth from the room.

  How odd that this golden glow should be so cold and empty.

  Her heart pounded violently against her chest as she stared down at her ankles. They were bound by gleaming, silver threads, as delicate as those of a spider’s web, threads that ought to have broken apart at her mere tug, but held as fast as iron chains. “Let me go! What do you want with me?”

  She was so scared.

  Please be a dream. This can’t be real.

  The scent of honeysuckle filled the cold air. She gagged against its pungent sweetness, and doubled her struggles as more misty shapes appeared and began to surround her, their shadows sweeping close and knocking her backward against the footboard. “Lord Eastbourne! Please! I’m not feeling well. This can’t be happening.”

  More shadows danced past, but it was the first one who’d appeared to her that roughly shoved her onto the bed. He was a tall man with black hair and piercing blue eyes. King Cadeyrn. She recognized him from Charlie’s drawings. No, no, no! It can’t be.

  As she fell onto the bed, another scent enveloped her senses; Lord Eastbourne’s masculine scent – that divine, earthen mix of pine and sandalwood. He’d slept here last night, warm and naked between the sheets.

  “Your journey will soon be over,” the Fae king said. “Take my hand, Julia. Breathe in the honeysuckle.”

  More sparkles of light floated in from the bluebell garden and circled the bed. She blinked her eyes shut and opened them again. The sparkling lights and misty shapes now surrounded her as though they were spectators come to view the sport about to begin.

  Her heart pounded so hard, she thought it might burst.

  King Cadeyrn seemed quite sure of himself as he motioned to her with his cold, bony fingers and drew her toward the window despite her attempted resistance. Did it serve as a portal into his world? Although she was relieved that he hadn’t tried to claim her in the bed, whatever relief she felt was only momentary, for he was intent on luring her into another realm and time. His realm. His time. And she was powerless to prevent it. If he succeeded, she’d never be seen or heard from again. “Follow me, Julia. Take my hand.”

  “No.”

  His mouth twisted in a menacing smile. “Come with me.”

  “Never… I’m dreaming.” She refused to believe in the Fae king, even as he released her invisible bonds with a wave of his hand and she felt the power of his spell.

  His gaze locked on to hers.

  She’d never seen eyes so intensely beautiful, so clear and pure a crystal blue. A cold, beautiful blue. His hair was dark as a raven’s wing. His teeth gleamed white in contrast to his ebony hair. He dressed like a king, his tunic a shimmering silver fabric that resembled satin, but was much finer. He had sapphires for buttons and more sapphires trimmed his epaulets. His boots were of the finest leather, the same
ebony black as his hair.

  But he didn’t appear soft or refined.

  This was no pampered king.

  Indeed, he appeared remarkably as the warrior king Charlie had depicted in the many drawings strewn throughout the vicarage. Her mind raced to recall all those scenes of faeries, those living among them in the local countryside. She remembered the more elegant depictions of Cadeyrn holding court inside his palace as well as those of battle scenes, Cadeyrn marching with his army toward the red mountain known as Friar’s Crag. In all of them, Cadeyrn had appeared handsome, dangerous, and always cruel.

  “I’m not the one you seek. I can’t be!” Charlie’s drawings had grown darker of late. There were scenes of a place Charlie had called Dragon’s Hearth, portraits of the Dragon Lords he’d called Brihann and Bloodaxe, his two black dragons. And the other dragons: Python, Necros, and Mordain. There were other drawings of battles between Fae and demons, of red, glowing fires spewing from Friar’s Crag.

  Cadeyrn said nothing, but there was anger and desperation in his gaze.

  Charlie had once drawn these creatures as joyful inhabitants in harmless tales. The change in his drawings had come about only recently, a few darker ones mixed in among the many idyllic depictions. What had happened to change these playful drawings? What was happening now? If Cadeyrn succeeded in taking her through the portal, would she find herself embroiled in a war?

  King Cadeyrn showed no expression as he continued to pull her closer to this unknown faerie abyss. “Julia, it’s done. You can’t stop me now.”

  “I must and I will!” She struggled to elude his grasp, but to no avail. “Come no closer! I forbid it!”

  His angry laughter whipped through the chamber like a blast of frigid air, blowing out all candles and plunging the room into darkness save for his own golden aura that now floated beside her. “Close your eyes. That’s all you have to do. Your subjects await you, my mortal queen.”

  She stared out the window, the thin glass barrier that could no longer protect her from the evils of the bluebell garden. Julia found her other senses heightened, heard the tinkle of laughter, the distant mirth of gentlewomen and gentlemen in revelry. She breathed in the aroma of a succulent goose cooked in plum juices and the bouquet of a fine, fruity wine. An orchestra began to tune its instruments and, moments later, broke into the gentle strains of a waltz. She gasped as the once-misty shadows now shone with their golden auras as they formed a circle about her.

  “Close your eyes, Julia. It will soon be over,” King Cadeyrn said with icy calm. “You mustn’t struggle or it will hurt.”

  She grabbed Lord Eastbourne’s shirt and held it tight, clinging to it as though he was her only link to the mortal world. His scent. His strength.

  King Cadeyrn let out a harsh laugh. “Eastbourne can’t save you. He won’t save you. He doesn’t want you, only the boy. Come with me, Julia. Charlie will follow. You and he will be safe with me forever.”

  Julia put her hands over her ears to block out his voice, and she tried to ignore the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle filling the air. She held her breath, refusing to inhale the poisonous scent. She thought only of Lord Eastbourne… human… masculine… divine. “You can’t have Charlie,” she insisted, her entire body shaking with fear. “He belongs in this world. He isn’t yours! He’ll never be yours!”

  Cadeyrn reached out a long, slim finger to touch her cheek, the simple gesture leaving the chill of an eternal winter on her skin. “I’ll never hurt the boy. I wish to make him my son, to heal his injuries and let him walk again. I can give him the power to fly if he wishes. What can you offer him?”

  Julia shuddered, knowing she had nothing left to give Charlie. Nothing, except the one thing she’d provided him since the day he was born. “Love, that’s what I have to offer.”

  There was no recognition in the king’s blank stare.

  “Love!” she said louder, trying to push him away as he took her into his cold arms, preparing to steal her soul. “It is something we feel from the heart. It gives us strength.”

  “Love,” he repeated, somehow holding her immobile as he lowered his lips to hers. “Yes, tell me of this feeling. Show me its power.”

  “No!”

  *

  “Julia! Julia! Open your eyes!” Lord Eastbourne sounded like an enraged bull, his voice harsh and strangled as it pierced her resistance and forced her awake. He turned her to face him and took her into his arms with gentle urgency. “I couldn’t find you! What happened? What are you doing out of bed?”

  She huddled against him, feeling the violent pounding of his heart as she buried herself against him, desperate for his warmth. “I… I d-don’t know. W-where am I?”

  “Oh, Julia,” he said with a ragged groan, brushing back the curls now tumbling over her shoulders. He lifted her into his arms and turned about the room to show her. “You’re in your father’s bedchamber. Where I slept last night. Do you recognize it now? Why did you come in here?”

  “I d-don’t know.” She took a deep gulp of air as he tucked a finger under her chin and tipped her face upward to meet his gaze.

  “Merciful heavens,” he muttered, “your eyes are wild and filled with terror. What did you see?”

  “It was him, King Cadeyrn. Did he attack you, too?”

  “Cadeyrn?”

  She closed her eyes and let out the sob she had been struggling to hold back.

  “Lass, I’m here. You’re safe now.” His touch was warm and gentle as he carried her back to her room.

  “You don’t understand. I saw him! He tried to pull me into his world, but I wouldn’t let go of… of…” She glanced down at her fists and realized she was still clutching the shirt he’d left folded beside his bed. “I held on to you,” she said in quiet desperation, “breathed in your scent, needing you to bind me to this world.”

  “You’re here now. I have you.

  “No,” she sobbed. “I’m half in light and half in shadow. Lord Eastbourne, I need your help. King Cadeyrn forced me into his arms and kissed me, a kiss that felt like death.”

  She wrapped her arms about his neck, and was surprised by his sudden gasp. “Your fingers are cold, like stabs of ice to my neck,” he explained as she quickly drew them to her sides with an apology.

  He kicked open the door to her chamber, set her down beside the hearth, and hurriedly threw more logs onto the fire, stoking the flames to a roar. “You need heat.”

  “It won’t help. My heart is f-frozen. I can’t f-feel anything. It’s so c-cold in here.”

  He ran his warm hands up and down her body, but his efforts did little to help. “Your lips are blue and your teeth are chattering. The room will heat up soon, Julia.” He glanced around. “It’s so cold in here. Did you open a window earlier?”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

  “I haven’t. Lord Eastbourne, what happened tonight isn’t natural. Look.” She raised her hands and held them out for his inspection.

  “Blessed saints!” Her hands were covered in thin, blue webs visible beneath her skin that crawled like spiders in a patterned weave across her hands. The blue threads seemed to be alive as they crept up her arms. He cursed again and rolled up the sleeves of her robe, horrified as the webs began to spread. “Let me see your legs.” He raised the hem of her robe to her knees, then cupped a hand under each of her calves to study them by firelight. “Mercy.”

  A tear rolled down Julia’s cheek and froze midway. “Cadeyrn’s fingers felt like needles piercing my skin. I felt his icy breath upon my lips as he tried to steal my soul. He’s succeeded, hasn’t he? I can’t feel anything, not even the beating of my heart.”

  “But you’re here, Julia. You escaped him.”

  “I didn’t, it was you. I held on to you as though you were a magic talisman binding me to the mortal world. Even as he kissed me, I thought only of your kiss.”

  He ran a hand raggedly across the nape of his neck. “That kiss we shared th
e night we met?”

  She nodded. “The one you claimed was not you. Do you remember it?”

  “Of course, I do.” Ever since, he’d been struggling with the desire to kiss her again, to taste the sweetness of her lips. He let out a soft growl and drew her into his arms, desperate to save her and not knowing how.

  She gazed at him, a soft, pleading glint in her eyes. “We both felt something that first time. Though you claimed it wasn’t really you, yet some part of you must have wanted that kiss. Please, Lord Eastbourne…”

  He realized what she was asking, what she needed. What he needed. And he suddenly realized what Charlie’s drawings meant. “Aye, Julia.” He lowered his mouth to hers and released the hot torrent of his desire, a desire she’d roused from the moment he’d met her, from the moment she’d opened the door to let him into the vicarage. The door had practically flown out of her hands, the wind was so strong that day, and the loose ribbon holding back her golden hair had blown away and set those curls in glorious disarray.

  He could hold nothing back. This wasn’t the time to be gentle. She needed him, craved his heat. He gave all that he possessed, probing and plundering with his lips and tongue. None of this made any sense. But he knew that nothing less than his unbridled passion would melt the icy grip of death surrounding her heart.

  She welcomed his onslaught, pleaded for it. “More,” she whispered.

  His mouth descended on hers with a ravenous hunger that matched her desperation. He slipped the nightgown off her shoulders, his actions purposeful but gentle as he caressed her skin beneath his palms and trailed hot kisses down her neck. He tugged the nightgown lower, exposing her firm breasts. Mercy! They were beautiful. She was beautiful. He cupped one lush mound, then lowered his head to take its creamy bud into his mouth.

  She gasped at the lick of his tongue across that hardening nipple, clutched his shoulders and moaned from deep within her soul as he swirled and teased and suckled first one engorged bud and then the other. He took her heat into his mouth and gave back the fire of his own passion.