“Were they Imps?” the Wolf asked.
Kirill glared at Trevor.
“No one's touching your hair, baby,” I said aggressively. “It's not happening.”
Kirill's glare turned into a soft smile.
“I don't know about lampposts or fawns, but there's smoke,” I continued as I pointed at a thin line of smoke ribboning up over the skeletal tree branches.
“And we've already got the Witch with us so we should be fine,” the Wolf said. “Imps are her faeries, after all.”
“I love how much I've rubbed off on you guys.” I felt instantly better from the witty exchange. I might be trapped in a mirror but at least I had two of my husbands with me, and we were still laughing.
“Da, ve love vay you rub too,” Kirill said with a smirk.
“Come on, my furry comedians.” I waved them forward. “Let's find out who made that fire. Hopefully, they'll know how to get the hell out of Narnia.”
“Where's a fucking wardrobe when you need one?” the Wolf muttered.
We started trudging through the snow; my heat turning it into slush. It made it easier to walk but also colder. My temperature wasn't hot enough to burn away the icy water before it hit our shoes—I might hurt my husbands if I raised it that high—and soon, our shoes were soaked. I was hoping the fire builder knew a way out and had some towels handy.
Chapter Five
We didn't have to go far. The trees opened up to a frozen lake that gleamed in the sunlight. A bridge arched to the center of the lake; leading to a fantastical palace of ivory stone that rose straight out of the water. A central, bulbous keep was attached to oval wings that sprouted to either side and behind it. Towers shot upward like spindles among them; topped with conical, spear tips. Starting at the central building, stone flowering vines twined outward and bound everything together. Their blossoms were large enough to be seen several hundred feet away. As we crossed the bridge, they grew larger until I realized that they were easily twice as tall as I was. Hundreds of them snaked around and up every tower, wall, and railing.
“Are those narcissus flowers?” I asked warily.
“I believe so,” Kirill said as he narrowed his eyes at the palace.
“This is really creeping me out,” I muttered.
“Because there's something wrong with this place,” the Wolf said.
No, Trevor wasn't back yet, and I was starting to think that was on purpose. He must have thought the Wolf was better equipped to handle this situation, and I agreed. We needed someone with good instincts.
“Da,” Kirill growled. “It smells wrong.”
I gave a good sniff with my dragon nose and then jerked to a halt. “It smells like flowers and feces. That is not a good mix.”
“Does the scent of shit mix well with anything?” the Wolf countered with a wry look.
“Fair enough.”
“Narcissus,” Kirill said. “Whiter narcissus have chemical called indole in zem; it's same chemical produced by E. coli. Yellow ones smell better.”
“So, snow, flowers, and shit,” the Wolf huffed. “Fantastic. This is a fucking nightmare.”
“It probably doesn't bother most people,” I noted as I started across the narrow courtyard that served as a landing point for the bridge. “It's just because we're shifters that we can pick up the nuances.”
“Most people aren't here,” the Wolf pointed out.
I rolled my eyes at him.
“No, I mean; there doesn't seem to be anyone here,” the Wolf corrected. “Someone should have seen us by now. But no one has come out to greet us or even tell us to go away.”
As if on cue, the main door to the palace—one of those with a curving top—swung open.
“I don't like zis,” Kirill murmured.
“I don't either, but I don't think we have much of a choice.” I glanced back at the forest. It surrounded the palace and its lake completely. There was only a thin ring of shoreline between the lake and the woods.
“Don't touch anything until we figure out what's going on,” the Wolf growled.
Then he took point and led the way into the palace. Thankfully, the scent of narcissus flowers faded as soon as we crossed the threshold. It was also warm inside, and I was able to turn down my body heat. Our wet shoes left tracks over the marble floor as we squished and squeaked down a corridor with a vaulted ceiling. Nothing decorated the walls and there were no rugs on the floor. The hallway was completely empty except for us.
“Hello?” I called out. My voice echoed back to me. “Really creepy,” I said softly.
There were no doors off the corridor. It led straight back into a round room with a domed ceiling. Sunlight streamed through glass panels in the dome; making the polished, sapphire floor look like water. A collection of velvet chaise lounges were set over a round, emerald rug in the center of the room; surrounding a collection of round, golden tables in varying heights. In the largest, most elaborate chaise with gilded swans and flowers forming its base, laid a man. No, not laid; lounged. He was draped across the furniture as if he were expecting to be photographed. Or painted.
Honestly, someone should photograph him; he was lovely. The eyes that regarded us were slightly almond-shaped and a blue so bright that they seemed to be glowing. His features were classically beautiful; his generous lips curving up in a warm smile. A riot of loose curls hung to his chin in a blend of copper and gold, and the toga he wore hung precariously from one muscled shoulder; showcasing a slim chest dusted with golden hair. Lean thighs poked out from the hem of his garment and golden sandals crossed over his shins. A stunning man, indeed, but way too pretty in my opinion. Re was pushing the pretty meter for me, but this guy surged beyond it into androgynous territory. I'm sorry, but I like a man
