AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“A gift?” Faerie princesses just sent vampires gifts?
He nodded, clasping his hands behind his back, causing the black fabric of his shirt to stretch further over his chest and shoulders. Gwen had to force herself to look back at the armor so she wouldn’t be caught staring at the exposed skin of his neckline again. “Many of the artifacts within Volkov were gifts, or payments for contracts completed.”
She looked further down the hall to a find a dark statue of a serene woman draped in cloth, her arms stretched longingly over her head to the sky. It was beautiful.
“Bronze. Sixteenth-century, Italian. Niah took it as payment for one of her contracts. It’s one of her favorites, I think.”
Gwen opened her mouth and shut it. Several other pieces she couldn’t quite make out yet lay further down the hallway.
“There are many other fine works along this wing, if you’d like to see them?” he posed.
A little shiver spread over her skin. Was he offering to give her a tour? Her heart thumped again, and in her head she cursed at the involuntary response at the prospect of spending more time with him. He was just being a good host. “I would,” she replied, forcing her voice cool. “If you have time.”
He swept further down the hallway, his scent trailing behind him like an intoxicating cloud. “Come. There’s an original Da Vinci in the parlor,” he said, as if it were nothing special at all.
Sirus had failed to mention the plethora of other works by Renaissance masters that hung in the parlor. There were at least twenty of them spread out around the well-decorated room. She’d only known a few of the artists’ names, since fine art hadn’t ever been a big interest of hers. She wasn’t entirely sure why. They were all magnificent. Sirus took her around to each one, telling her the artist, the title of the work, and when it had been painted—and those only scratched the surface of what treasures Volkov held.
Gwen began to grow dizzy as they continued through the east wing, her eyes jumping back and forth, scanning every wall, hall, and room. He’d told her his castle was bigger than Abigail’s chateau, and if this was only the second floor of one half of it, it was clear he’d not been exaggerating. Volkov wasn’t simply a castle, it was a museum of history and art, both human and Folk. It was stunning. Room after room was full of polished dark wood, richly colored carpets, and well-worn leather furniture. Tapestries or art or some other museum-quality piece hung along every wall or was tucked into every corner. Sirus commented on each one, seemingly happy to play tour guide.
Gwen ran her fingers over the cool, polished wood of the elaborately carved banister that swept down the wide, curved staircase that led to the lower floor. A breathtaking, three-tiered, gold-and-crystal chandelier the size of a car hung from the high ceiling.
“What’s up there?” she asked when she caught a glimpse of another, smaller set of stairs. They led upward, tucked into a dark little corridor between two narrow stained-glass windows designed with creeping vines full of red flowers.
He’d been fairly quick to reply to her probing questions up to that point, so when he didn’t respond right away she turned to look at him. His expression was as vacant as ever when he finally said, “The tower leads to my rooms.”
A jolt ran up her spine while a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Gwen couldn’t help the small intake of breath that followed. Levian had let it slip that it was Sirus’s private bedroom they’d landed in after hurtling through the mirror. It had been his magick mirror they’d traveled through. His own bed he’d nearly died in. His eyes darted to her mouth when she took in a breath, but he nearly immediately turned away and continued on down the steps. Gwen kept her eyes on his back as she followed him. He seemed so unbothered. So at ease. Not at all like a man who’d nearly died only a few days ago. Once more, she was struck with the cold realization of how different she was to the rest of them. To him. Sure, Sirus had nearly died in his own bed, but he’d probably changed the blood-soaked sheets and hadn’t thought twice about it after. Her stomach dropped remembering all that blood. His blood.
“Are you well?” he asked, looking up at her from the bottom of the steps, pulling her out of her head. Gwen hadn’t even realized she’d stopped following him. “We can go back if you’re?—”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, shuffling down the last steps, forcing herself steady even though she felt sick. “I’ve just never been in a castle before. It’s a lot to take in.” It was half true, at least. She was far from well, but it was the first time she’d ever been in an actual castle.
Sirus eyed her for a moment, seemingly unsure if he believed her. Actually, she was pretty sure he didn’t believe her at all. It was annoying that he could read her so well. When she reached the bottom of the steps, Gwen stalked right past him to the middle of the foyer, stopped beneath the giant chandelier, and looked back expectantly. She still wanted some fresh air.
He strolled up behind her and said, “It was built by a fae.”
Her brows knitted together. “The chandelier?” she asked, turning to look up at it. It was even more stunning from the ground level.
“The castle.”
“Oh,” she murmured. Her gaze shifted to peer around the expansive foyer. The ground floor and walls were made up of gray-white stone that looked ancient and worn.
“The faerie who built it gave it to the forbearers of our clan. A gift for saving his daughter. Fae were spread more commonly amongst the mortal world then. He left the castle to us as payment and took his daughter to Yuthrin.”
“That’s where the winter faeries live, right?” Levian had told her a little bit about the hidden cities of the faeries. Gwen was startled she’d remembered that little detail.
“It is,” he confirmed. Sirus led her across the foyer toward the wide, arched entrance of another long hall. “Much of the castle has been altered to suit our needs. It has been updated over the years, but some original details remain.” He tilted his head toward the wall ahead of them. “These stones are original.”
Gwen ran her fingers over the cold, hard surface of the dove-gray stones. It was silly, but she could almost feel their ancientness against her skin. “They vibrate,” she commented with curiosity. When she turned and found Sirus’s cool gaze focused directly on her face, a soft warmth spread over her cheeks.
“You feel their magick?”
She looked back to the wall, pulling her hand away, rubbing her tingling fingers together. “I guess,” she replied, a touch embarrassed for some reason. “They feel old, like hibernating bears.” Where that analogy came from she wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt right.
Sirus came up next to her, his nearness wrapping her in the stark scent of sandalwood, spice, and soap. She nearly leaned in to get a better sniff. When she caught herself, she swallowed and leaned back, a swarm of butterflies raging through her chest. He reached out and ran two long fingers along the wall next to the place she’d touched. Her eyes lingered on those fingers.
“The stones were cut from an ancient mountain in Yuthrin,” he explained. “They are said to be enchanted.”
“Enchanted?” she repeated breathlessly, remembering those fingers wrapped around her hand as he pressed it to his chest.
