*Ella*
My world spins, then settles. I suck in a breath and open my eyes, blinking into midmorning sunlight streaming through massive, cathedral style stained glass windows of the brightest purples, silvers, and blues.
The mosaic floor beneath my feet shimmers in the flecks of multicolored light dancing over the tiles and the toes of my boots. I feel like I’m on a boat, like the floor is shifting side to side, but then my body catches up with my mind. I suck in a breath in surprise as my vision fully clears, and the room I’m now standing in comes into sharp clarity. The domed stained glass ceiling seems impossible high. The spires and columns of pure obsidian seem like they’ve been pulled here from a place lost to time. This place is… incredible. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
I slowly turn my head and realize Amanda is standing beside me, looking just as shocked as I am. Her golden eyes are locked on the ceiling, her lips slightly parted as she blinks into the sunlight.
But then Ryatt lets go of my hand, and I realize what just happened.
He brought us here, but how? How is able to move through space like this on a whim?
This room–this grand foyer of some kind–stretches in a wide, circular shape with a giant staircase made of the same obsidian stone as the columns and spires that rise to the ceiling. Is this his home?
Is this my home now?
“Ryatt–” I say, but he cuts me off with words directed at Granger and Granger alone.
“Come, I’ve told my commanders to assemble in my office at once.”
Granger glances at Amanda, his green eyes scanning her face for any sign of injury or distress, and then turns to his Alpha and nods. Ryatt doesn’t wait for him to follow before walking into the shadows of one of the archways on either side of the stairs, the glint of the sword on his back the last thing I see of him before he’s swallowed by darkness.
Total silence settles around us.
“Is he all right?” I ask Granger.
The look Granger gives me–something so incredibly uncharacteristic for him–tells me the answer. Granger’s eyes flash with something like regret, his mouth pursing into a tight line.
Ignoring my question, he says to us, “Just walk up the stairs and down the hallway to the left. The house will open the doors to your rooms for you. There should be no confusion about where you’re meant to go.”
Amanda and I stare at him, neither of us comprehending what he just said.
He continues slower this time, “Just ask the house what you need, and it will be done.” With that, he simply turns on his heel and follows after his Alpha.
Amanda and I watch him go, neither of us speaking for what feels like an eternity.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“I think this is where Ryatt lives.” I fight to swallow as my voice echoes through the room, bouncing off the glimmering black walls.
* * *
Amanda stands in the center of a bedroom suite we found on what I believe is the second story of the obsidian palace. But, admittedly, we haven’t taken a single second to explore despite being left to our own devices. There could be levels far beneath us–dungeons and cellars. This place, based on the blurry, stained glass windows we’ve passed, is built into the side of a towering mountain. I try not to think about it as I walk a slow circle around the room, my fingertips trailing over the finest furniture I’ve ever seen in my life. Everything is all dark wood and rich fabrics. A black silk canopy drapes over a four poster bed large enough to fit six grown men side by side, the sheets the same silken black as the canopy.
Someone lives here and claims this room. Someone, we realize rather quickly, who goes by the name of Granger.
Amanda fans through one of the books left open on a rather messy desk littered with parchment and maps.
The dresser on the far wall has several drawers open, clothes spilling over the sides, like he’d dressed in hurry. In fact, the entire room feels like Granger hadn’t been expecting to leave, like he’d been awoken and only had a few seconds to get himself together before running out the door.
A pang of guilt slashes through my chest. Had he been here, minding his own business, when I finally called on Ryatt to bring me to his realm?
A fine layer of dust covers everything from the unmade bed to the papers on his desk, confirming my suspicions.
“This is strange,” Amanda says softly as she continues to look around.
“Everything about this is strange,” I reply, realizing this is the first real conversation I’ve had with her since before we came to Coven. There’s so much we need to talk about, but right now, we’re stuck in this castle and have been told to just… ask the house.
Whatever that means.
We went upstairs like we were told. We walked down a long hallway and tried not to wince as sconces flickered to life, lighting our way. The door to this room had opened automatically, just like Granger said it would.
Weird, right?
“I guess this is where I’m staying,” Amanda breathes as she looks up at the domed ceiling where a mural of the morning sky has been painted, the clouds seeming to shift and move on their own accord. We stare at it for a moment. I feel like it is actually moving. Unease courses over my skin, and I wonder if she feels the same way. “It’s pretty messy in here, though. I didn’t expect that from Granger–”
A whoosh of air explodes through the room. Amanda and I cling to each other on impulse as dust swirls around our feet and clothes are sucked back into the dresser drawers. The books on his desk snap closed, the papers rustling as they’re neatly stacked in a little pile.
Something unseen shakes out the sheets and makes the bed.
Just as suddenly as it happened in the first place, another whoosh of air ripples through the room, softer this time, and is gone, replaced by that same unnerving silence as before.
But now, the room is absolutely spotless.
Amanda swallows hard, her fingers digging into my arm as we glance around. “Well, that’s better–”
A fire erupts in the obsidian fireplace and begins to crackle with ease as warmth drifts through the room.
My heart races but I choke out, “Thank you.”
The curtains rustle as if in answer.
For the next several minutes, we watch as the thing–whatever it is–drops vases of flowers on the side tables and lays the thickest, coziest blankets over the chairs and couch by the fireplace. A trunk drops onto the ground by the foot of the bed and opens, revealing what must be Amanda’s clothes and shoes. Two doors open along the far wall, revealing a closet full of Granger’s clothes. Amanda steps toward it as dresses arrange themself on a rod, each of them glistening with gems and the finest of fabrics.
The second door reveals a massive bathroom. A bathtub the size of a small swimming pool looks over a sweeping view of the snowcapped mountains beyond, the first clear glimpse of the outside world we’ve seen coming here.
The water turns on, sending funnels of mist rising to the ceiling.
“It wants me to take a bath,” Amanda says, her eyes meeting mine with both shock and amusement.
“What is this place?”
“Whatever it is, and whatever this thing is, it likes us.” She waves a hand toward the freshly decorated room. “A lot, apparently.”
The door leading into the hallway opens with a creak. We turn to it, and I feel an overwhelming sense that it wants me to leave.
“Are you going to be all right here?”
“I’ll be fine,” she says. “I’ll come find you later. We obviously have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”
“We do.” I walk toward the door, glancing over at my friend one last time. Amanda gives me a soft, somewhat pinched smile as I cross the threshold into the hallway. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and the sconces erupt to life on one end of the hallway, beckoning me to follow.
I swallow my apprehension and bury it deep. Whatever this thing is, whether the castle itself is magic or its some unseen entity, it doesn’t feel like a threat. If anything, its presence feels warm and caring, which is still slightly unnerving as I follow the sconces through a maze of hallways and sets of stone stairs.
I see no servants or maids. Not a single soul passes me in the corridor. I hear not a whispered word or footsteps other than my own as I travel up through the castle until my legs are burning and the valleys I can see through the angular windows fall further away.
Finally, I reach the top of another staircase and find there’s only one door in this short, narrow hallway. It opens softly, silently.
The first thing I notice after the door closes behind me is how familiar this room is. Stained glass windows touch the ceiling all throughout the room, letting in ribbons of multicolored sunlight. A four poster bed with a canopy of rich, emerald colored silk sits on one side of the room. Finely made wood furniture is littered throughout–everything tidy and clean. The bedspread, couches, and chairs are all lightly colored and soft to the touch. Another massive fireplace radiates heat, the fire crackling as I move to the center of the room and look around with my heart in my throat.
Through a set of double doors a wide, sweeping balcony comes into view, the tile floor drenched in warm sunlight.
I’ve been here before in my dreams. I’ve rested my hands against the balustrade and looked down at the valley below, at the glimmering city built in layers between jagged mountains. I’ve seen the bridges that connect the levels of the city. I’ve seen the waterfalls and endless foliage of the richest greens like this place isn’t touched by seasons whatsoever. I’ve seen the way the sky arches against the very veil that separates my kingdom from Ryatt’s in sprays of misty violets and blues, magic rippling like falling stars.
This is his city–Veiled Valley. This is my home now.
I turn from the balcony when a soft whoosh of air comes from within the bedroom. Clothes have been laid out on the bed, and a tray of fruit, coffee, and pastries sits on the coffee table before the hearth. I walk toward the bed, ignoring the sound of the shower running, and run my fingertips over the Wellington University sweater folded neatly on the sheets, right next to my favorite pair of jeans.
My favorite scrunchie. My favorite fuzzy socks. My favorite, battered sneakers I’ve had for years.
I’d left all of this behind. I hadn’t packed a single thing to take with me.
A tear slides down my cheek as I lift up the sweater and clutch it to my chest, inhaling deeply. “Thank you,” I say to the house, and a door opens in response.
I set my sweater down and walk toward it, following the spray of light coming from within.
It’s a sunroom. The glass ceiling pours light on the contents of the room, illuminating the blank canvases and easels and organized shelves full of paint and supplies.
I can’t breathe. I simply stand there, dumbstruck, wondering if this is the work of Ryatt’s magic house or Ryatt himself.
Did he build this studio for me?
I bite my lower lip and turn from the studio when the bedroom door opens, a figure darkening the doorway. Shadows rove around the figure's feet as he steps inside.
“Ryatt, this is–” I stop talking abruptly, my heart in my throat as the sunlight illuminates the unfamiliar man’s face.
The face of my mate's father.