BOUND IN FLAMES

005

The estate sprawled across a rolling green land. You'd never seen anything like it; even your former home and the Archeron manor couldn't compare. It was veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies and staircases sprouting from its alabaster sides. The grounds were encased by woods, but stretched so far that you could barely see the distant line of the forest.

Your awe might have overpowered your confusion at the sight of Feyre looking at the place as if it was wholly empty and silent. Above the array of amethyst irises and pale snowdrops and butter-yellow daffodils swaying in the balmy breeze, the faint stench of metal ticked your nostrils. Quickly realizing that she couldn't see what you saw. Feyre couldn't see all the fairies that were stealing glances at both of you.

The faerie meandered on ahead, leaping nimbly up the grand marble staircase that led to the giant oak doors in one mighty, fluid movement. The doors swung open for him on silent hinges, and he prowled inside. I felt for your knives, finding the feel of them still beneath your clothes comforting.

Feyre's horse came to a stop of her own accord at the foot of the stairs. The message was clear enough. The towering estate house seemed to be watching, waiting.

You glanced over your shoulder toward the still-open gates. If you were to bolt, it would have to be now.

South—all you had to do was go south, and you would eventually make it to the wall. If you didn't encounter anything before then. You could make but you wouldn't risk losing Feyre.

She tugged on the reins, but the mare remained stationary—even as she dug her heels into her sides. She let out a low, sharp hiss. Her knees buckling as she hit the ground, blinking as if bits of light were flashing in her vision.

She grasped the saddle and winced as soreness and hunger racked her senses. Now. You had to go now. you made to move, grabbing her arm, but she looked like she was going to pass out.

Only a fool would run with no food, no strength.

You wouldn't get half a mile like this. you wouldn't get half a mile before he caught her and tore her to ribbons, as he'd promised.

She took a long, shuddering breath. Food. You need to get her food and water, then run at the next opportune moment. It sounded like a solid plan.

When she was steady enough to walk, you let go of her and you left the horse at the bottom of the stairs, taking the steps one at a time. Arms hovering around her, just in case she did pass out. Your breath tight in your chest, as you passed through the open doors and into the shadows of the house.

Inside, was even more opulent. Black and white checkered marble shone at your feet, flowing to countless doors and a sweeping staircase. A long hall stretched ahead to the giant glass doors at the other end of the house, and through them you glimpsed a second garden, grander than the one out front. No sign of a dungeon—no shouts or pleas rising up from hidden chambers below. No, just the low growl from a nearby room, so deep that it rattled the vases overflowing with fat clusters of hydrangea atop the scattered hall tables. As if in response, an open set of polished wooden doors swung wider to my left. A command to follow.

You tensed as you entered the room. Making sure to keep Feyre behind you.

A long table—longer than any the Archeron's had ever possessed at your family manor-filled most of the space. It was laden with food and wine—so much food, some of it wafting tendrils of steam, that your mouth watered. At least it was familiar, and not some strange faerie delicacy: chicken, bread, peas, fish, asparagus, lamb. . . it could have been a feast at any mortal manor. Another surprise. The beast padded to the oversized chair at the head of the table.