The Rose and the Sinbound

Chapter 7: No less than chains

The first light of dawn filtered over the garden walls, soft and hesitant, as if reluctant to enter a world so tangled with deceit. The air smelled faintly of morning dew, and yet all I felt was the heavy silk clinging to my skin, a suffocating reminder of what awaited me. My gown shimmered in hues of deep blue and green, like the still waters of a hidden pond, reflecting light in ripples with each step. Tiny ivy vines twisted through my hair, woven with pearls that glimmered faintly—a crown of quiet restraint, but no less a chain.

At the base of the marble staircase, my cousin Taryn leaned casually against the rail, a picture of arrogance. His mask—a butterfly design with wings in a green-and-blue ombré—sat loosely in his hand, the delicate craftsmanship clashing with the cruelty etched in his smile. I hated how similar his eyes were to mine—those same emerald irises we had inherited from our bloodline—but where mine carried fear and fire, his were filled with mockery.

"Finally," he drawled, his voice slick with boredom and irritation. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your nerve."

I gave him no reply. Words were weapons with Taryn, and if you weren't careful, they'd wound you before you even realized the battle had begun. I gathered my skirts and stepped past him, the delicate embroidery whispering against the cold marble floor like secrets unspoken. My pulse pounded, heavy with dread, as if every step carried me closer to a trap I couldn't yet see but knew was waiting.

The carriage waited just beyond the gates—a sleek, silver structure pulled by unicorns. Once, these creatures had been the pride of the Spring Court, roaming freely across endless meadows beneath skies untouched by storms. Now, with their pristine white coats and sharp, gleaming horns dulled by restraint, they moved mechanically, their eyes empty as glass. They were prisoners—like me. Once cherished. Now bound.

I stepped inside the carriage without hesitation, forcing myself not to react as the door clicked shut behind me. The interior smelled of leather and magic—old magic, subtle and strange, with undertones of oak moss and rain on stone. It was the kind of magic that slipped unnoticed beneath the skin, leaving you unsettled without knowing why. Taryn followed, sprawling lazily across from me, his smile a little too smug.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a mask into my lap. Blue rose petals—deep and vivid, edged with silver—formed a cascade that shimmered under the dim light inside the carriage. It was delicate, lovely, and so intricately designed it almost seemed alive. But as my fingers traced the cool silk threads holding the petals in place, a chill rippled through me. Something was wrong. This mask didn't belong to the Day Court.

"It's a masquerade," Taryn said, his grin widening, sharp as a razor's edge. "Wouldn't want you showing that pretty face without a disguise, now would we?"

The mask felt heavy in my hands—too heavy for something made of petals. It wasn't just an accessory; it was a message. A warning. I tied it behind my head, the silk ribbons biting into my skin like chains. The petals brushed my cheeks, cool and soft as a ghost's caress, yet they suffocated me all the same. This wasn't a mask—it was a lie. A false bloom to hide the thorns beneath.

As the carriage jolted into motion, the wheels groaning against the uneven path, I stared out the window, trying to shake the unease curling in my gut. The mist thickened the further we went, shrouding the woods in a pale, eerie glow. It clung to the trees, slithering over the gnarled roots and twisted branches, as if the forest itself were alive and watching.

The deeper we went, the more unfamiliar the landscape became. These woods were older, untouched by time, their ancient magic breathing quietly beneath the surface. My stomach knotted as I realized something was wrong—terribly wrong.

"This road..." I whispered, more to myself than to Taryn. My pulse quickened. "This isn't the way to the Day Court."

Taryn's grin spread wider, a predator's smile. "You're sharper than I gave you credit for, cousin. I was beginning to wonder if you'd notice."

The air grew colder, tinged with the metallic bite of iron and starlight—an unmistakable sign that we were leaving the familiar lands of the fae courts. My hands gripped the edge of my seat, nails digging into the silk-covered cushions. Not the Day Court. Not Orion's ball.

"You lied." My voice was low, shaking with rage and fear. "You said Orion was expecting me."

Taryn's laugh was soft and cruel, a blade drawn from its sheath. "I never said that. I just didn't correct your assumption."

The Immortal Courts. The name slid through my mind like poison, leaving a trail of ice in its wake. This wasn't just a masquerade—it was their masquerade. A place where gods and monsters danced in shadows, where ancient beings made games of mortal lives. Where nothing was what it seemed.

"Why?" I demanded, struggling to keep the panic from creeping into my voice. "What do they want with me?"

Taryn's expression darkened, his grin tightening. "That's not for me to say. But you'll find out soon enough."

The carriage rocked as we climbed a steep hill, the path winding higher into the mist. The unicorns' hooves clattered against the stones, the sound sharp and lonely in the stillness. Outside the window, the trees grew taller, their branches woven together like twisted arches, shutting out what little light remained. The deeper we went, the more I could feel it—a pressure in the air, ancient and dangerous, like a storm waiting to break.

The Immortal Courts were not bound by the same rules as the fae courts. Here, masks were not merely adornments—they were shields, traps, weapons. Promises were laced with lies, and those lies had teeth. What they wanted from me—what Taryn had dragged me into—I couldn't yet see. But I would find out soon enough.

I turned to Taryn, my voice cold as winter's breath. "You'll regret this."

Taryn's laughter was low, filled with amusement—but beneath it, I caught a flicker of doubt in his eyes, just for a moment. Good. Let him fear me. Let them all fear me.

I adjusted the mask, tightening the ribbons until they bit into my skin. It didn't matter how beautiful the petals were; they were only there to cover the thorns. And my thorns were coming—sharp enough to draw blood.

The carriage slowed, and in the distance, I saw it: the faint glimmer of a palace rising from the mist, its spires twisting like smoke. Strange lights flickered in the windows, and music—haunting and ethereal—floated on the air, calling us closer.

The masquerade awaited. But I wouldn't enter as their pawn.

I would enter as the storm they never saw coming.