Page 9 of To Sway a Demon Heart

“Here,” Tyr said, stopping at a black, wooden door and drawing a silver key from his breast pocket. He unlocked the door, then pressed the key into my hands. “This is yours. Mine is the only other room on this floor. The contestants are all in the guest wing.”

“Thank you,” I said again, feeling conflicted as Tyr pushed the door open. I was both thrilled and a little disappointed to share a floor with him, as it meant there would be no easy way to keep my distance over the next few days.

“Continue down this hall to the foyer, and you’ll find your way to the dining hall,” Tyr continued, holding the door open for me. “You have a private bathing chamber here, and there is also a library if you need a distraction.”

I gaped as I took in the room, so different from my own chambers in Sun and yet equally elegant. The rooms were darker than mine back home, everything stone and dark wood and deep plush, red furnishing, like an eerie copy of the moonstone palace in Oneiros. More stained glass greeted me, these windows larger and overlooking twisted grounds and a distant graveyard.

Blood was like a dark mirror to Sun, which was unexpected. I thought Shadow would be the darkest of the courts, but there was something festering here that felt wicked and unsettling.

Tyr watched me with a raised brow as I examined the furnishings, poking my head into the small but elegant bathing chamber, and skimming a hand over the silken sheets. “It’s not as grand as Sun,” he said, somewhat self-consciously, “but I hope it will suffice.”

“It’s lovely,” I said, looking up at the ceiling, which was inlaid with dark, wooden panels carved with all manner of beasts and plants.

“It’s a miserable place,” Tyr argued with a wry laugh, his mouth twisting in a grim smile. “You don’t need to be polite.”

“It’s not,” I argued, genuinely concerned that he thought I hated it. “It feels a little lonely, perhaps. But it’s not miserable. It has a dark beauty to it.” I looked at him and felt that he fit here, more than any other place I had seen him.

“It was a miserable place to grow up,” Tyr replied with an indifferent shrug. I frowned, studying this male, my mate, who felt like he didn’t deserve me. Who fit in this eerie, lonely place. “But I hope you’ll be comfortable enough.”

“Tyr,” I began, taking a step toward him. There was something tortured in his eyes as he took in the room, and whatever he saw in my face, the compassion or concern there, put him on edge.

He took a step back. “Please let me know if you need anything, Lady Brigid,” he said curtly, bowing stiffly to me. “The castle is yours.”

Tyr left before I had a chance to say anything else or to ask about his childhood and life here. The darkness of the castle felt like it seeped into my bones as I stood in the strangely beautiful room, and wondered what my dark, tortured mate might have endured here.

Chapter 6

Ipassedthedaywandering the castle, trying to imagine Tyr’s life here among the scheming and machinations of the Court of Blood. Aside from a few servants, I didn’t run into any contestants or other members of Tyr’s court. Either everyone was keeping to their rooms to prepare, or the castle was big enough that it was hard to bump into people.

The castle appeared to be on the top of a rocky cliff overlooking several smaller towns below from the side of the castle farthest from my room. All were made of the same dark stone, with black roofs and twisting roads, and autumn already stripping the trees bare. The gardens that my windows looked out of were on the opposite side of the grounds and backed against a densely wooded area that looked like it would be home to wolves and bats and other feral creatures as night fell.

The court was surrounded by mountains similar to Oneiros, but without the bright, sparkling charm of that city. Perhaps it was just the season, or the passing of Samhain, or the grisly business we undertook here, but the Court of Blood felt like it was rotting from the inside, taking its lord with it.

No wonder Tyr’s childhood had been miserable.

I knew he’d lived here with his father. He had told all of us, under the influence of bloodberry and truth magic, that he had killed his father and worked to curb the evil of the nobles in this court. I wondered if a mother had ever been in the picture, or any other family who could protect him from the wicked ways of his father. Someone must have taught him the wrongs of his father’s ways.

He said she was just a mortal. That I could dally with another. That they were all the same.

The words came back to me as a memory of that dinner, of Tyr’s confession about why he had murdered his father. Clearly, there had been someone he loved here, someone who had taught him goodness, and his father had killed her.

The jealousy I felt at the thought was silly, a byproduct of the Pull. Of course there had been other females before me. There were other males before Tyr, after all.

But that his father could kill someone he loved…that thought filled me with rage and sadness. To be betrayed in such a way by your family. It was no wonder that Tyr was reluctant to let himself find happiness.

I ended up in the library, which was modest but beautiful like the rest of the castle. The tomes were bound in dark leather in varying stages of repair, the dark shelves dusty and unloved. These poor books needed some love and care, and I briefly considered asking Tyr to let me send him one of my librarians before I dismissed the idea.

I chose a book at random and spent the morning in solitude reading about the history of these lands and of the inner workings of the Court of Blood. It was a court that seemed to thrive in chaos and bloodshed, each ruling family taking over by force or deception, with a long bloody trail of bodies in its wake.

I knew enough about blood magic to know what the first trial would look like, and a shudder went through me as I thought about what Tyr would have to do.

“My lady,” came a deep voice from the doorway. I looked up from my book to see Draven, dressed as if prepared for battle in scarred leathers and adorned with weapons, leaning on the doorframe.

“Lord Draven,” I said, sitting up and trying for a polite smile. I wondered if fate was toying with me that he seemed to constantly cross my path.

“You are like a burning candle in the darkness,” he said, grinning at me curled up on one of the couches. He strode into the library, looking around at the dark shelves. “I didn’t think a place could be darker than Shadow, but Blood is giving it a run for its money.”

“It’s a different sort of darkness here,” I agreed, putting my book down and gesturing to the seat next to me. Draven waved his hand, choosing instead to perch across from me. “More melancholy, whereas Shadow embraces its darkness with a wicked glee.”