A Curse of Shadows

Right after I get her to forgive me for what I’ve done.

CHAPTER SIX

ISLA

The audacity of that man, even if he’s a king, is unreal. He wields his power as though he owns me, acting as if he can command my fate without a second thought for my feelings or desires. Yes, maybe that’s exactly what he’s done, but acknowledging it doesn’t make it any less infuriating or wrong.

Though in this instance, I’m okay with having agreed to stay. It’s only four weeks. I can survive that so long as I can send word back to Elodee that I’m okay. I don’t know what I’ll tell her, exactly, but I’ll think of something.

Explaining that I’m in another world probably won’t go over well and as much as I don’t want to lie to her, I know the truth of all this craziness needs to be shared in person.

This reluctant acceptance gnaws at me, forcing me to confront a harsh reality: have I truly come to terms with this not being just some elaborate dream?

The vividness of this world, the intensity of my emotions—they anchor me to a truth I can scarcely believe, but even more, cannot deny. The moment I looked into the eyes of the man who claimed to be my father, something profound and undeniable shifted within me. Despite the logical impossibilities, my soul recognizes him, resonating with a familiarity that transcends memory.

That’s not something I can abandon, even for my best friend.

Restless, I pace my room but soon decide that if I’m to remain here, I must familiarize myself with my surroundings. Practical needs come to mind—clothes, toiletries. It’s time to take inventory of what’s available to me here.

Dressed in the sleek, blue gown that’s been my sole attire since my arrival, I admire its feel once more—the fabric’s softness provides an unexpected comfort, a stark contrast to my usual jeans and tees.

Still, too many hours have passed and it’s time for fresh clothes.

Curiosity leads me to a door beside the bathroom that I haven’t yet explored. Pushing it open, I’m greeted by a sight that steals my breath.

“Holy shit.” The room beyond is a treasure trove of fashion—shoes, hats, purses, and scarves line one wall, while the opposite is draped in an array of clothing that spans from extravagant gowns to casual wear. It’s an arsenal of attire for every occasion, each piece more dazzling than the last. Even better, most of it looks similar to fashion from home. Well, high-end stuff I’d never normally wear similar, but still.

I don’t understand why all of this is here, but I guess that’s something I can either accept or fight against, but the latter would seem rather stupid on my part. Even if I’m not the woman King Asher believes me to be, I’m here and I might as well be comfortable.

As I step farther into this wardrobe wonderland, my eyes catch a spotlight illuminating the back wall. Crowns, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, all crafted from white gold or platinum, shimmer under the focused light, each piece a statement of royalty and refinement.

“What the hell have I stumbled upon?” I whisper to myself, my voice a mix of awe and disbelief. My reverie is abruptly shattered by Cain’s voice.

“Your Highness?” His tone is tentative as he speaks from just beyond the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but King Asher requests your presence for dinner tonight if you haven’t finished the meal I brought earlier.”

Of course, he probably saw that I’d only picked at the food when he was in here, but the fact that he thinks I might want to be in his presence so soon after the threats he just made sparks my irritation all over again. “King Asher can kiss my ass,” I mutter with a snarl.

Cain clears his throat, staying in the bedroom and almost out of sight. “I’m not sure I should relay that message, Princess Isla.”

His use of my name, not Isobella, catches me off guard—a small, unexpected validation of my identity.

I peek out of the closet, offering him a strained smile. “That wasn’t meant for you to hear.” In fact, I’m not even sure how he did, I think, before adding, “Please tell King Asher that I politely decline unless he’s changed his mind about holding me hostage for the next four weeks.”

Cain’s green eyes widen as he looks more at the carpet than at me. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He sees himself out and I grin, walking back into the closet. “Now, what to wear,” I muse to myself, ignoring the growl of my stomach now that dinner’s been mentioned.

With a sweater, jeans, underwear, and socks in hand—all new with paper tags that are branded with WW and attached with thin silver ribbons—I make my way to the bathroom. The tile floors are heated, which surprised me last night, considering the castle doesn’t even have an elevator. There’s a glass shower with the overhead spout that had my attention the first time I saw it before, even more than the clawfoot porcelain tub next to it.

I set my clothes down on the granite countertop, between the double sinks. Opening the cabinets next to that, I find a fluffy, blue bathrobe and more towels than I’ll ever need along with slippers and eye masks.

Maybe I should have explored last night, but then again, I was still hoping none of this was real before.

Grabbing a towel, I hang it on the hook next to the shower before turning the hot water on. It’s time to feel like me again.

I want to take my time washing, but every minute that passes makes my stomach growl louder, craving something warm and soothing, not the uneaten food from nearly two hours ago.

Before I know it, I’m shutting off the water, disappointed I couldn’t enjoy this luxury properly and drying off.