Where Vines Don't Grow

An Uninvited Guest . . . Or Two?

Marin's head was still spinning by the time the sun crept greedily into her room in the Tower, wresting her roughly from a restless slumber. Or rather, yet another restless slumber. Two days had passed since her encounter with The Voice, and the Pool of Lapis and she had yet to hear anything from Zircon since then. Which was remarkably frustrating, considering that she'd been waiting with great anticipation, feeling utterly useless all the time, because what was she supposed to do in his absence, to fend off unknown plots and plotters, when she couldn't even keep voices out of her head?

What is it with him and all the silence? Does he enjoy making everyone wait on his word? Arrogance. These weren't her kindest thoughts, Marin knew that, but she didn't like how things were going. Not at all. And she wanted nothing more than to disappear into her blankets and stay there until she found herself back at the farm with the sound of Aunt Fi singing an off-tune version of "Home on the Range."

Dread pooled inside her. Despite her best efforts to reassure herself, Marin was feeling more and more that she might never experience any of those things again. She was stuck.

She groaned, placing her head in her hands. "I'm a sitting duck. Or like a lamb for slaughter. Or just a stupid human—"

But the last words caught in her throat, and Marin did her best not to think why. She wasn't ready to address that just yet. Particularly not when she had no reason to question herself. I am my only ally. A stupid one, maybe, but I've got myself. That's something. Even in her mind, the reassurances rang tinny and empty.

She shoved away from her bed with a grunt and began to pace. When was Zircon going to show up? While she lacked no faith in his promise to uncover any and all plots pertaining to their collective fate—or more likely, his own fate—that didn't mean he would be successful, and the longer he took, the more she doubted.

Plus, all she wanted was to be able to do something. To fend for herself or help rather than sit in the Tower and get dressed like a doll and make small talk with the various fae who came to see her or happened to walk in the garden or in the courtyard. Which seemed to be the only two places she was allowed to go at the moment.

A sharp knock resounded and Marin spun toward the door with greedy eagerness. Finally!

"One second!" Quickly pulling off her nightgown and throwing on a practical looking jumpsuit, Marin hurried to answer. When she pulled the door open, it banged into the wall with the force of her efforts, but she hardly noticed. Her attention was far more riveted on the auburn-haired fae man standing before her, a frown on his face.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice softer than intended. What she really wanted to ask was if he knew about the Voice and the plot to marry her off, or, because her heart begged her to, if he was upset that she had run from him. Maybe not my best decision, she thought regretfully, but then she reminded herself why. He had tried to pretend that child-snatching was a thing of the past, and even if Marin wasn't a child, he hadn't seemed keen to recognize the injustice of her capture.

And if he's known about this marriage plot from the beginning . . . Marin didn't let herself follow that thought too long. If she did, she'd lose her temper before she even knew the truth. And she wanted to hear everything from Jasper's own lips, not just accept her own predictions or conclusions.

Staring up at him now, Marin only hoped his answers would be more reassuring than not.

His main interest, for the moment, however, did not seem to have anything to do with secret plots. Not if the way that he was looking at her had anything to say about it.

"We need to talk. Have needed to, in fact. And I'd like for you to give me a chance and just listen—if only for a few moments, Marin. Will you do that for me?" He stepped over the threshold as he spoke, his movement slow and calm, as if he was approaching a skittish wild animal.