Chapter 27

The days in Ashthorne Castle passed rather uneventfully. Ronan left during the day, though I doubted it was to visit with Theodan. The High Goblin host made sure not to cross paths with us again.

Regardless, it was made sure we were fed and taken care of. In the mornings' food magically appeared, and when I left the room to bathe, I returned to clean sheets and a tray full of fresh steaming soup. I had a feeling it was Eaven's doing, though I hadn't seen her again since our dinner either.

One day when I was feeling a bit better I decided to explore the castle more thoroughly. I hadn't strayed much from my room, my energy taking some time to return.

I paused in the hall, my hand trailing over the icy surface of the wall next to me, and frowned. Thinking of Ronan and how he had taken care of me filled me with a fluttering feeling. Even after seeing how he had acted about killing Eirian and starting a Faerie war, I could feel my body reacting just remembering his touch.

My fingers curled in on themselves, my nails slipping across the ice as water droplets collected on my fingertips. I shifted away from it and regarded the hallways I was in.

I had traveled through the castle further than I had before. When Ronan and I had returned from the dining room, we had gone the same way as I usually went to go to the lavatory. But instead of turning that way today, I took the other side, following the hall as it forked off. My legs felt strong beneath me, and my skin hummed with energy coiled under my skin.

Since I was feeling better Ronan and I would have to leave soon. This was probably my last chance to see the castle before I left it for good. Now that I wasn't fighting to survive, I couldn't help but be in awe of the magic that surrounded me.

I could almost feel it in the very air. It was so alive.

I walked down a hall filled with frost covered portraits, bearing water stained likenesses of Eaven and Theodan's ancestors. They all had various different shades of grey skin, many bearing some kind of white marking.

Most of the images portrayed them with cold, unfriendly backdrops. The more of them I saw, the more I was struck with a sense of loneliness. All the women bore antlers like Eaven's, their features varying from human like to something completely unnatural. All of them were breathtaking.

I paused in front of a portrait near the end of the hall. It depicted a woman who looked similar to Eaven, her eyes pale, her teeth sharp as she bore a wide smile. Beside her sat a human man. He had dark hair with warm brown eyes.

He was smiling, and it was the only one of the paintings that held any warmth. I gazed over the man's features. He was likely a few years older than me, and I wondered if he was the uncle that Eaven had referred to. I stared at him for many moments before continuing on.

I saw no evidence of any of the creatures I had seen after dinner, though as I turned down one hall I thought I heard hushed whispers. They cut off as I approached, and I paused, looking around. Nothing. I continued on, but I listened more carefully as I continued through the castle.

Eventually, I found a room. This one was empty. It looked like it might have been a bedroom like the one Ronan and I were staying in. Only the bed sat bare and unused, bearing none of the warm furs we had on ours. I wandered around the room and stopped, frowning. There was nothing in here.

Then I spied a shelf against the wall. It was one of the few pieces of wooden furniture I had seen in Ashthorne Castle. It held books, featuring a small library. I approached it, surprised to see English titles interspersed with ones I couldn't read. Some of the books were so old they were falling apart, where others looked well loved; all bent and water stained. I brushed it off, a mix of cobwebs and ice sticking to my fingers as I peered at the titles.

I saw some that I knew: The Hobbit, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. But the others were either titles I had never heard of before or ones that must have been written in a faerie tongue I wasn't familiar with.

I pulled one out, the spine well worn, its edges unraveling. The lettering on its spine was fading away from where it had been painted, but what remained was unfamiliar. I looked at the cover. There was a faint image of two circles combining in the middle.

I cracked it open to look inside. The sweet, musky smell of old worn paper filled my nose. The first few pages were faded beyond recognition. Just a few symbols lingering on the pages here and there. It wasn't until I got to the center of the book that I paused. Though I couldn't read the symbols scribbled in the margins, it looked like a hand-drawn map. I turned the book on its side to gaze at it. Lines were breaking off one large continent into seven sections. There was also a separate, large island floating off the coast that I inspected curiously.

"It's a map of Faerie," Ronan said, his breath warming my ear.

My body tensed. I spun around to find he was standing close, only a few inches separating us. His eyes lifted off the page of the map to meet mine. A smile tugged at his lips, taking in my surprise. How long had he been there?

I swallowed. "Of Faerie?" I looked back at it. Some details were still preserved. I could see little trees drawn in, then lines that resembled mountains on the top left of the map. In the middle of the mountains was the form of a castle that looked similar in shape to Ashthorne Castle. I pointed to it.

"Then we are here?"

Ronan nodded. He reached around me for the book, still standing close as he peered at the map. My skin immediately reacted to his heat, and something inside me tugged pleasantly as if urging me closer to him.

I promptly ignored it. But I also did not move further away.

His clawed finger brushed gently against mine. He dragged it down the page across a forest and through another castle. Eventually, he stopped near the bottom of the map on the left side, opposite to where were.

"That is Firya."

I lifted my brows. "Well looks like we still have a long way to go." I looked back at where he was indicating. After the second castle was a large empty area before the smaller mountains around Firya appeared. However, as fascinated as I was, it was hard to focus with Ronan so close to me. Perhaps I could inspect it at a later time on my own. I let out a nervous breath, then closed the book and stepped away from Ronan to look up at him. He crossed his arms over his chest, unable to hide his grin.

"I didn't expect to find you over on this side of the castle," Ronan said as he surveyed the room. "Did you want some of the books? I'm sure there are plenty to amuse yourself with there. I don't have any back home, but if you enjoy them I am sure the goblins don't mind. They belonged to their late uncle, and this room has been neglected since his death. He was mortal, like you, if I recall."

Interesting. I wondered if Ronan had any human relatives of his own. I glanced back around the room with new eyes. Somehow it appeared more empty now that I knew it belonged to a long passed dead human. I lifted my chin to meet Ronan's eyes.

"Yes, there is. But I don't think they will travel well." I looked down at the book with the map in my hands. "This is plenty." I wanted to look at the map some more.

Ronan gazed at me, at first appearing puzzled, but then his lips quirked up again. The look was quite pleasant on him.

"You're feeling better. You seem more...lively."

My cheeks flushed. I turned away from him, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling inside my stomach. Now was not the time to get feelings like that for Ronan. I gripped my book tighter.

He's just another obstacle between you and going home, I reminded myself.

"I guess we will have to leave soon." I gazed around the room, taking in the icy walls. I wasn't looking forward to going back out into the mountains. In the Asthorne Castle I had felt safe for the first time since coming to Faerie.

Ronan was still looking at me with a pleased look on his face. A small part of myself softened. I was still frustrated with how cryptic he had been the night before, but learning about him made him a bit easier to understand.

"Yes we do," Ronan replied, snapping out of whatever had been putting that painfully nice smile on his face. We exited the room, walking down the hallways side by side. Silence descended between us, but it was not strained.

"You said you were raised by dragon phooka. What are they like?" I asked, curiously, remembering something he had mentioned in passing.

Ronan walked rather stiffly down the icy corridor, avoiding the walls. "They have rather terrible tempers, now that you mention it. I was taken in as part of a clan, though it mostly just caleld that in name. Most dragon phooka like to keep to themselves. A very introverted species. Unless you anger them, then it's a lot of dragon fire." Ronan wrinkled his nose, as if he was remembering something unpleasant.

"I don't care much for dragon fire. The stuff is particularly hard to put out."

I laughed, unable to help imagining a younger Ronan up to no good. His tone told me enough. For Ronan who didn't look like he was defeated easily, I was happy to know that he'd had an upbringing—even if it was bizarre for me to imagine—that could keep him in line.

"What do they look like? The phooka I met before retained some of their animal qualities. Trahern had his mane-like hair and coloring, and Cath had cat eyes."

Ronan gazed ahead, as if looking into the past. A small smile flitted around his mouth but never came to the surface.

"No two dragon phooka look alike. Some will have scales, others will have dragon eyes. But it is their beasts when they transform that are truly magnificent to behold. They are the reason that Firya's fighting strength is unrivaled in all of Faerie. To see one of them take to the air when fully grown is absolutely magnificent. My clan brother, Ignatius, is one of the best."

His expression shifted,  and his red eyes flared. "No one can survive dragon fire. Only the Fire Fae can."

The laughter that had been bubbling up inside of me chilled, seeing a reminder of the battle-hungry man Ronan truly was. I studied him as his expression slowly smoothed over. He looked back at me with a contemplative expression.

He lifted a finger to brush some of my hair off my face, the motion gentle, his claws poised to not harm or maim me. His eyes lingered on me a moment, then he quickly pulled his hand back as if somehow I had burned him.

"What about you?" Ronan asked, clasping his hands in front of himself and gazing ahead. "Where do you come from, Heather? You told me about your home and family. I am curious to learn more."

I licked my lips and glanced away. I could feel myself blushing. Even Brody hadn't gotten under my skin this way.

"Well, my mom works as a surgeon in the ER—she helps save people's lives."

I smiled just thinking of how impressive she was. Then my smile froze, and I looked down. All I could remember was the last argument we had. I needed to see her and Dad again, and set things right.

As dazzling as Ronan was in moments like these, I couldn't stay here. I couldn't forget who Ronan was just because he had shown me some kindness, or because he looked at me with an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes.

Ronan looked impressed. "So she performs human medicine. One of those people who prevent your own mortality. That must be quite a skill."

"It is," I agreed stiffly. Ronan glanced at me sidelong, and even without his same capacity for emotions, seemed to sense the shift in mine. He changed the subject.

"What about your father? Did you know him?"

"Oh yes." I smiled wistfully, missing him dearly. "My father and my Gran nearly raised me. Dad was home a lot more, usually working on marking his student's assignments late into the night. He's a professor."

Ronan frowned, his brows creased in confusion. "A professor?"

I shook my head, aghast. "Like a teacher. Do you not have any kind of education here in Faerie?" He had to have learned things somehow with all the languages he knew.

"Of course we are educated," he replied. "My clan leader educated us in Firya, as it is part of their job to train the whelps. I was educated among them. True, it is different probably than yours. These professors that you speak of, do they train you in skills such as sword work or survival?" He fixed me with a smug grin as he crossed his arms over his chest.

He had me there. Perhaps if I had learned some of that, I wouldn't be in my current situation.

"Well, my father is a brilliant man. What he does may not make sense in this world, but ours is different. Where I grew up, I didn't need a sword."

Ronan's expression softened. His arm brushed against mine.

"I hope to make sure you don't need one in this world either."

I pressed my lips together. I know he meant to reassure me, but it only reminded me of how helpless I was. I shook my head. "I need to go back home."

Ronan didn't reply, and when I looked at him he was staring ahead, his jaw tense. We were both silent as we continued through the castle.

We reached the doorway to our room, and Ronan paused as he let me through. I turned to look at him as he moved in after me. He was considering me, the same tense expression on his face. The icy doors slid shut behind him and even though we had been alone this entire time, I was hit with the realization that in here there was no one else watching.

It was just me and him.

He neared me, his eyes trailing over my face. "Have you ever considered staying in Faerie? I know you want to go back to your home. But has it ever crossed your mind that you may not be as out of place here as you thought?"

I was caught off guard by his question. I was aware of the intimacy of the space between us. His head tilted to the side as he waited for an answer, and I struggled to come up with one. I made to blurt out, "no," but the word just wouldn't come.

Maybe because it was a lie. Because I had considered it, even if it had only been just a moment.

"Yes," I said softly. "But..." I saw Ronan's eyes flicker, and I paused before speaking again. I looked down at my hands, pulling on the ties of my dress. He didn't scare me right then, but I still found it hard to look at him.

"I was stolen from my home. From my life," I said honestly. "You have been kind to me, in your way, and I am thankful for that, Ronan. I know you tried to take care of me when I was sick, and that even now you want to keep me safe but I just want..."

Ronan stepped forward, his clawed hand coming out to tilt my chin up so I was looking at his face. I was surprised for a moment at his expression. It reflected how I felt. Confused, unsure.

And maybe a little... afraid.

"What do you want?" he asked. "I can give you many things: riches, delicious food, fine clothes. I will make sure you are treated well."

I shook my head, he didn't understand. "All those things, they are material. I have tried them all, but no matter how much I try, it never works," I said, trying to get through to him, even if it was pointless. "I need more than this. Everyone keeps trying to tell me what my future will be, but none of it feels right. Not my mother's picture-perfect one, or..." I trailed off, feeling his grip on my chin tighten.

"This," I finished quietly, my voice almost a whisper.

We stared at each other for several long moments. He let go of my chin. His gaze flashed before the softness I had glimpsed disappeared. In its place was a familiar sharpness, like he has returned all his weapons to their rightful place.

"I see."

He turned then, putting more distance between us. "You should rest some more. We will leave tomorrow. I'll send word to Eaven and Theodan."

He left me alone in the room, the door sliding shut behind him. I stood there a long moment, thinking of what I had seen in his expression before Ronan's guards had gone back up.

Hurt.