A Court of Chaos and Confusion - An ACOTAR Rewrite

Chapter 4

The estate sprawled across a rolling green land, the snowy dark forests long behind us. Truthfully, I'd never seen anything like it; even our former manor couldn't hope to compare to the beauty here. It was veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies and staircases sprouting from its alabaster sides. The grounds were encased by woods that stretched so far I could barely see the distant line of the forest. There was so much color, so much sunlight, movement, and texture... I could hardly drink it in fast enough. I didn't think I'd ever be able to paint it justice no matter how many hours I stood in front of a canvas - the pigments simply didn't exist. Lyrics to a new song popped into my head, but I shoved them aside. 

My awe may have subdued my fear had the place not been so wholly empty and silent. Even the garden through which we walked, following a gravel path to the main doors of the house, seemed hushed and sleeping. Above the array of amethyst irises and pale snowdrops and butter-yellow daffodils swaying in the balmy breeze, the faint stench of metal ticked my nostrils.

Of course it was magic, that's why it was spring here. What power did they possess to make their lands so different from ours? To be able to control the weather and the seasons as if they owned them? Fear crept up the back of my neck at the thought of that much power being used so flippantly.

Sweat trickled down my back as my layers of clothes turned suffocating. I shifted in the saddle, rotating my sore wrists, and found whatever bonds had been there now gone. 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.

He'd probably planned this entire arrival to be sure I had absolutely no idea of where I was, no way of knowing how to get home, or what other deadly faerie territories might be lurking between me and the Wall. I searched my cloak for my knife but found it gone, the wooden crescent moon my father had carved for me, thankfully, remained. Regardless, the idea of those paws and claws pawing through my cloak while I was asleep to find my knife made my stomach clench. I shoved away the terror and disgust as my horse came to a stop of her own accord at the foot of the stairs with a clear enough message - follow the beast into the towering manse, which almost seemed to be watching, waiting.

I looked behind me and saw the gates still wide open and for just a moment considered making a run for it, but the gravity of my situation fully set in as I tore my gaze to look up the stairs and found myself wanting to climb them, to see what lie ahead. I'd made the decision to go, my father had told me not to come back and that they would be alright, so all I had to focus on now was what lay ahead.

My knees buckled as I hit the ground, bits of light flashing in my vision. I grasped for the saddle and winced as the soreness and hunger racked my senses, the world spinning and flashing before me. I turned to walk up the steps and stumbled once, twice, before the darkness of my swimming vision faded and I was able to gather up my strength and make it up the steps. I knew how to walk through mind-numbing hunger and weakness, I could do this. I would do this. Taking the steps one at a time I made it to the top, my breath tight in my chest as I passed through the open doors and into the shadows of the house, resisting the urge to lean against the wall for support.

Inside, it was even more opulent, with black-and-white checkered marble floors, 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 I glimpsed a second garden, grander than the one out front if that was even possible. 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, it seems.