I awake when a bright shaft of light through the bathing chamber window warms my face. It's a strange place to wake up in. I dress in a Grecian gown of sage green and belt it at the waist with a pink ribbon. There are a pair of women's court shoes provided in the wardrobe. I don't expect them to be the correct size for my feet, but they fit perfectly. It makes me wonder if the wardrobe has some magic of its own. It's not like we sent our sizes ahead of our arrival.

I open the door to the bedchamber, and Destan bolts upright in bed like we're under attack.

His shoulders relax when he sees me. "Where are you going?" He groans and runs a hand over his face and through his dark curls.

"I'm going to see Morel."

Destan's eyes meet mine and he holds my gaze. I suddenly feel self-conscious with my hair loose and wild. I pull my hair over a shoulder and twist the ends nervously.

"I'll come with you." He gets out of the bed and heads towards the bathing chamber.

I avert my gaze from the long, muscular legs that his nightshirt doesn't cover. "I'd like to go alone. Please," I add.

Destan looks back at me and I suddenly can't breathe. He doesn't hide the hurt on his face when I know he could. Not wariness. Not jealousy. The soul-deep ache in his eyes suddenly gives me the sense that maybe there's something more between us. Something more than unwanted instincts. I recognize that something more in me as a want that awakens deep in my bones. A feeling that has perhaps been there for a while is called up from the unknown by the siren song of its likeness in him.

The feeling is no longer hidden deep in my bones, but shivering beneath the surface of my skin. I rub gooseflesh from my arms as I collect my thoughts. I want to tell Destan that wanting to be alone with Morel doesn't mean anything, but that's not entirely true. My reunion with Morel last night was unsettling, but he still means everything to me. "I want to see him alone. There are things I need to ask him."

"Of course," Destan says, and his gaze falls to the floor. "Just be careful wandering the castle on your own."

"I will keep my head down," I reply. My pulse flutters with a sliver of fear as I turn and leave Destan behind in our chamber. He taught me to defend myself, but we both know my human strength is no match for a Faerie.

The castle is quiet after the night's festivities and I suspect many Fae will keep to their beds until the afternoon. When I reach the main passageways, I find servants scurrying about, cleaning up the remnants of the ball. Some of them are Fae, but I'm surprised to see humans in their midst. A girl with rounded human ears rushes past with a tray of left-overs.

"Excuse me," I say and reach for her arm.

She jumps out of reach but turns and drops into a curtsy. "Yes, ma'am."

"I am looking for the rooms of Monsieur Edmund Morel. He is a painter here at the court."

The girl looks over her shoulder nervously. "He has a suite at the top of the North Tower. I would show you but I—"

"It's fine. I don't want you to get in trouble. I can find him myself if you point me in the right direction."

She curtsies again. "North Tower is that way, ma'am." She points down the hall behind me and scurries through a doorway and descends in the shadows of winding stone steps, most likely towards the castle kitchens.

I turn and head in the direction of the North Tower. The passageway makes a turn to the right into a Loggia with columns wrapped in climbing ivy. The Loggia is open to all the elements of nature and boasts a panoramic view of the city and the gorge beyond. My fear of heights keeps me away from the balustrade, but I don't let my feet slow. The Loggia dead-ends at a curved stone wall and decorated archway. This must be the North Tower.

The spiral staircase of stone steps is ancient and slick, worn down in the center by hundreds of feet climbing them over the years and the water that gets in through the open windows. There are several landings throughout the tower, but I don't stop until I reach the end of the staircase. The door carved with a dragon and faerie knight bears no indication of the room's occupant, so I will have to take the servant girl at her word.

I knock loudly at the door. A crash on the other side of the door startles me, and I take a step back. Something clatters across the floor and a muffled voice grumbles something out. The door swings open and Morel slumps against the frame. He wears a billowing white shirt tucked into leather hose. He shuffles the blonde ringlets out of his eyes and sizes me up.

"Florette..." He says my name like a sigh. "You look positively elysian this morning."

A smile pulls up my lips at the rare compliment. "Thank you. I—"

"Why have you woken me at this early hour?" He stretches and yawns exaggeratedly before stumbling back into his chamber.

I follow after him hesitantly. His chambers are delightfully bright, though his windows have been afforded diamond-paned glass to keep humidity from interfering with his work. The antechamber serves as his studio, a room dotted with half-finished paintings resting on easels and a smattering of mismatched furniture. An archway with a crimson curtain pulled to one side reveals a bedchamber with a mussed bed in the next room. "I didn't mean to wake you, but we didn't get a chance to speak last night and I have so many questions—"

Morel sidesteps a broken pitcher and finds a glass of wine on a little table. He downs the glass of wine and drops onto an pale blue sofa embroidered with green vines and pink roses. "Hair of the dog, as they say." He grins and gestures for me to take the armchair nearest to him. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, Florette."

I take the seat and hide my blushing face by admiring the view from the tower.

"I'm glad you figured out how to get here," Morel says. "My work is simply lost without you."

"What?" I'm stunned. I've never heard him talk about our relationship in that way.

He ignores my question. "Who was that man who came with you?"

"Destan?"

Morel looks determinedly at the crystal goblet in his hand. "Why did you bring him with you?"

I don't let myself believe it, but I detect a note of jealousy in his voice. "It was an accident. We were looking for the doorway to Alsaecia and we stumbled on it thanks to your paintings."

Morel shoots me a look of confusion. His eyes glaze over as if he struggles to remember a dream he's awoken from. "My paintings..."

"Morel..." I lean forward in the chair and brace my hands on my knees. "Until last night, I thought you were dead. Everyone at Versailles thought you were insane and drowned in the canal."

"I'm sorry, Florette. I would have left you instructions to follow me if I could, but like you, I — I stumbled on the portal after I fell in the canal at a boat party and it opened for me when I was least prepared." He reaches for my hand, but I don't take it.

"So you were planning to come to Alsaecia. To stay here."

"Yes!" Morel jumps to his feet. "You've seen the Fae, haven't you? You've seen what hides behind their glamour." He gestures wildly to the door to his chamber and the court of beautiful creatures beyond it. "I couldn't paint them at Versailles. Mademoiselle Charlotte la Duchesse D'Ambois took me here for a festival once, but she hid the way from my memory. I spent the next year trying to get back to this place so I could paint the world's most beautiful subject matter to my heart's content."

A year. All that time and he didn't tell me what he was planning. "So you're going to stay here... indefinitely?"

"Of course. Wait until you get a chance to really experience the court here. The elegance. The beauty. The grace. And you'll get to paint it all. It makes Versailles look like the Île-de-France. So why were you looking for the gate with the dark, brooding fellow?"

"Destan? Well... it's a long story. Things in France have reached their boiling point, Morel. I don't know what it was like when you were there, but the unrest has reached Versailles and when I was attacked by one of the Children of Marat, Destan saved my life. He brought me into a group of like-minded people who want to stop the Fae from running France into the ground."

Morel's brows push together in concern. "Oh no. You didn't get involved with Lafayette and his nonsense resistance, did you?"

I bristle and sit a little tall. "It's not nonsense. If the monarchy collapses, the fae will move onto the next court and we will lose life in France as we know it."

Morel shakes his head and laughs. "Then be glad you're safe now and you can put all that drama behind you."

My breath catches in my lungs and I try to hold back my anger. "Morel... I can't stay here."

His face falls and his lips press into a thin line. "I see. Well, don't decide just yet. You may find Alsaecia has more to offer you than France. I need you here Florette."

He holds out his hand again, his eyes pleading.

This time, I take his hand and rise from my seat. He doesn't release me but instead pulls me stand a breath away from him. He clutches my hand to his chest, tight enough that I can feel the pounding of his heart against my knuckles. "I need you, Florette. I need my apprentice. The Fae have different tastes and I'm finding it difficult to please them with their portraits."

He needs me. He needs me. He needs me. I melt at those words. His blue eyes pour into mine in a way I've always wanted them to. He's finally looking at me again. My knees buckle and I sink closer into him. His gaze drops to my mouth and I tilt my chin up, begging for his lips to meet mine. My eyes are about to flutter closed when a thought occurs to me. I take a step back and drop Morel's hand.

He looks at me with panic.

He needs me. And yet, he got his affairs in order — made sure I was provided for in his will and would finish any work he had left. He was planning to leave me behind. "I need to go," I say and turn to the door.

"Wait," he calls after me.

I pause with a hand on the door. "Yes?"

He crosses to stand beside the door so I'm forced to look him in the face. "What can I do to convince you to stay?"

I bite my bottom lip as I consider everything I've just learned. "I don't know." I open the door and push past him.

"Florette, please!" he cries as I fly down the stairs.

My stomach is in knots and I feel on the verge of tears when I reach the bottom of the tower. I burst onto the Loggia when a hand closes around my wrist. My instincts react before I can and I reach back grab my attacker's wrist, pivot, press my forearm to his back, and pin him against the wall.

Destan looks back at me over his shoulder with a smirk. "Impressive. You're getting better. Have you been practicing?"

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realized how much of my body is pressed to his and I release him. "You let me reverse the hold on you."

"Of course I did, but any human who attempts to harm you," Destan says as he examines me. He is dressed in a Renaissance style green brocade doublet, black hose, and tall black boots. "I think you even hurt my arm a little." He rubs his elbow as he watches me with an amused grin. "How was your meeting with Morel?"

"Fine." I fold my arms, hoping he won't ask more. "Were you just waiting down here for me?"

Destan's grin doesn't falter. "I was. Prince Oberon sent for us. We have work to do." He takes me by the hand and pulls me down the hallway. I should let go.

He should let go.

But he doesn't.

And neither do I.