Pan walked with a determined gait down the halls of his palace. As he led me back down to the ballroom, the echoes of the Enchanted Ball seemed to linger in the air, mingling with the unsettling reality of Seraphina's murder.
The ballroom, once a dazzling spectacle of opulence and merriment, now stood empty and somber. The vibrant colors and sparkling decorations had lost their luster, replaced by a sense of unease that seemed to settle in every corner of the room.
The grand chandeliers that had once cast a warm, enchanting glow now hung still and silent, their brilliance diminished by the weight of the tragedy that had unfolded beneath them. The dance floor, once alive with twirling couples and laughter, was now a stark expanse of polished wood that seemed to reflect the gravity of the situation.
Pan's grip on my arm was firm as he guided me further into the room, his gaze scanning the space with a mixture of scrutiny and unease. The absence of the Fae courtiers who had once filled this room was palpable, leaving behind an eerie emptiness that seemed to amplify the whispers of what had transpired.
"The Enchanted Ball," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, "it feels like a distant memory now."
Pan's lips tightened into a grim line, his eyes holding mine as if to convey the weight of the truth we were both grappling with. "It's a good reminder that even in a world of magic and enchantment, darkness can still find its way."
As we moved through the room, I couldn't help but notice the small details that had gone unnoticed during the festivities. The tables, once laden with sumptuous feasts, were now cleared and bare.
The lingering scent of roses and candle wax filled the air, an odd juxtaposition to the heavy atmosphere that now hung over the room. I could almost hear the echoes of music and laughter, a haunting memory of a time that felt both distant and all too recent.
“Arybella,” Pan said, directing his attention to a familiar Fae in the center of the room.
The Fae rushed over at the sound of Pan’s voice, followed by a flurry of skirts thanks to the dress she wore. She stood before me, her expression a mix of authority and concern. Her eyes flickered to the collar, her gaze lingering for a moment before meeting mine.
"Ms. Darling," she said, her voice cool and composed, "you should return to your room."
I hesitated, feeling a rush of defiance welling up within me. But before I could respond, Pan appeared beside me, his presence a shield against the apprehension I felt.
"She stays," he said, his tone firm as he addressed Arybella.
Arybella's gaze shifted to Pan, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she nodded in acknowledgment. "Very well," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of deference. "But remember, Sire, that the situation is delicate, and having a mortal suspected of –”
Pan's expression remained unreadable as he nodded, his attention fixed on Arybella. "I'm aware of the delicacy," he said, his tone steady. “She was with me during Seraphina’s murder. I have questioned her thoroughly and have decided she is free from suspicion.”
Arybella's eyes held his for a moment longer, as if conveying something unspoken between them.
"What's happened in my absence?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that held a touch of urgency.
She took a deep breath. "There's unrest among the courtiers," she began, choosing her words carefully. "Seraphina's murder has left everyone on edge. They fear that the darkness that took her might be a harbinger of something more." She leaned in even closer. “Whispers of The Mad Mage’s return is all anyone can speak of.”
Pan's jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. "They should be concerned," he said, his voice cold and distant. "This world is not as safe as they would like to believe. But the Mad Mage?”
The somber atmosphere of the palace seemed to close in around me as Pan's determined gaze held mine. The weight of Seraphina's murder and the unsettling reality of this world of Fae hung heavily in the air. Pan's urgency to uncover the truth was palpable, and I found myself drawn into the depths of his determination.
“Take me to the body,” Pan commanded her.
Arybella inclined her head slightly, acknowledging him before leading the way through the winding corridors. I thought for sure Pan was going to have me stay, but a firm hand on the small of my back, practically pushing me forward, made me realize that wasn’t the case.
As we followed her, my steps were measured, my heart pounding with both unease and curiosity. The palace seemed to take on a different aura as we ventured deeper, the luxurious decor and intricate tapestries now held a sense of foreboding.
We entered a dimly lit chamber, the air heavy with an almost tangible sorrow. Arybella paused beside a grand bed, its draperies drawn in a muted display of respect. Upon it lay Seraphina's lifeless form, her once-vibrant beauty now stilled in death.
Pan's expression remained inscrutable. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was sad. He had been especially cruel to her earlier, but I highly doubted he cared. Maybe death erased that, though. Maybe he felt enough of something to muster up an iota of sympathy. His fingers twitched at his sides.
Arybella stood by, her gaze steady as if she had seen this kind of tragedy play out countless times before. There was a depth to her that I couldn't quite grasp, a sense that she held secrets and knowledge that surpassed even the enigmatic Fae Prince at my side.
"We must find out who did this," Pan said, his voice low but unwavering.
Arybella nodded, her expression impassive and cool. "We will leave no stone unturned," she affirmed, her words carrying the weight of authority.
“Has she been evaluated?” Pan asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I called in a medical examiner. He’s making his report now.”
“The contestants?”
“All in their room, Your Highness,” she said.
“Order them to dinner,” he said. “They must eat.”
“Your Highness, I don’t –”
“Did I ask you what you thought, Arybella?” he asked in a low voice. Each word was sharp, like he was cleaning blades in front of her as a warning.
“Have the kitchens open and start something,” he continued. “Send the examiner here at once. I shall speak with him directly.”
Arybella looked like she wanted to argue but she pressed her painted lips together and nodded once more before disappearing.
Seraphina's beauty was undeniable, even in the stillness of death. As I gazed upon her lifeless form, I couldn't help but be struck by the contrast between her once-vibrant presence and the eerie quiet that now surrounded her. Sure, she had been a bitch, but that didn’t mean she deserved to die for it.
Her skin, pale and delicate, held a ghostly translucence that seemed to amplify the fragility of her existence. The tendrils of her silver hair spilled over the pillow like a halo, a stark contrast to the darkness that had befallen her. It was as if death itself had granted her an otherworldly grace, a beauty that transcended the boundaries of the mortal realm.
Her features were serene, as if the pain that had marked her final moments had been erased in death's embrace. Her lips, once full of life and laughter, now rested in a peaceful repose that seemed almost at odds with the tragedy that had taken her from this world.
But it was her eyes that held me captive, even in death. They remained closed, shielding the depths of her gaze from my view, yet I couldn't help but feel that they held secrets, that they held the key to understanding the darkness that had enveloped her.
Despite the beauty that still clung to her form, there was a palpable unease in the room. Seraphina's death was shrouded in mystery, a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit together. There were no obvious signs of violence, no telltale marks to indicate how she had met her end.
As I stood there, my gaze lingering on Seraphina's peaceful form, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than met the eye. The world of the Fae was one of enchantment and danger, where secrets and deceit danced beneath the surface of beauty and glamour. And in that moment, as the weight of her death settled upon me, I knew that unraveling the truth would be a journey fraught with peril and discovery, a journey that I was now entangled in, whether I liked it or not.
Could it really be the Mad Mage?
The atmosphere in the palace seemed to vibrate with tension, the weight of Seraphina's murder casting a shadow over every corner. Pan's presence beside me relieved me, made me feel like nothing could hurt me. Which was stupid because I was sure once Pan was done with me, he’d kill me without a second thought.
"Do you truly believe that the Mad Mage is behind this?" I asked, unable to hide my unease.
Pan's gaze flickered to mine, his expression serious and contemplative. "It would make sense," he replied, his voice measured. "The Mad Mage has always been a formidable adversary, and he's powerful enough to orchestrate something like this."
I nodded, the weight of his words settling upon me. The Mad Mage was a name that carried weight in this world, a name whispered in hushed tones by those who knew of his reputation. His motives and ambitions were shrouded in secrecy, his power unmatched by most.
"If he's responsible for this, what does he want?" I asked. “I thought everything with Alice and the I–your brother.”
Stupid. Almost referring to Rumpelstiltskin as The Imp in front of Pan was probably one of the dumbest things I had ever done.
Pan's jaw tightened, his expression darkening. "My throne," he said, his tone holding a note of bitterness. "The Mad Mage has always coveted power, and what better way to seize it than by creating chaos and undermining my authority?"
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. The Mad Mage's desire for power was a dangerous force, one that could lead to even more bloodshed and treachery in a world already fraught with tension.
“But didn’t your family –” I stopped myself again.
Pan’s lips turned up darkly. “What were you going to say, pet?” he asked, his voice filled with smooth humor. “Don’t hold back now. Speak.”
“Your family took his throne,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And he wants it back.”
“Yes.”
“So, the throne really isn’t yours, is it?” I asked.
His gaze snapped to mine, his expression a blaze in the pitch-black night. "What are you implying?" he retorted, his voice revealing irritation.
I hesitated, taken aback by his reaction. "I'm just pointing out that the Mad Mage originally held the throne," I explained, my voice measured. "Your family tricked him out of it, and now he might be seeking revenge."
A spark of anger flared in Pan's eyes before he masked it with a forced calm. "You seem well-versed in our history," he said curtly.
I nodded, not backing down despite his defensive stance. "It's just that if the Mad Mage is responsible for Seraphina's murder, it might not solely be about power,” I said. “He could be after you for personal reasons, for what your family did to him."
Pan's jaw tightened, his frustration evident in the sharp edge of his voice. "I don't need you to remind me of my family's past," he snapped.
I could feel the tension between us like a taut string, ready to snap. Pan's defensiveness was a shield, a way to protect himself from the painful memories that I had inadvertently stirred up.
"I'm not defending him," I clarified, my voice softening. "I'm just suggesting that we might need to consider more than just power as a motive. He might be targeting you out of anger and pain."
Pan's gaze held mine. "You think I don't know that, you stupid girl?" he said, his voice quieter now. "You think I haven't lived with the consequences of my family's actions?"
"I'm sorry," I said tightly. I didn’t want to apologize to him at all because as far as I was concerned, he didn’t deserve it. But I also knew pissing him off right now wasn’t a good idea either. "I just thought it was something we should consider."
“We?” he asked, tilting his head. “Let's get something straight. There is no 'we.' You have one job here, and that's to gather information on who wants to kill me unless you want to be penalized for even thinking you could kill me.”
I blinked, taken aback by the harshness in his words. The reminder of my role in this world stung more than I had anticipated.
"I understand that," I replied, my voice steady despite the hurt that welled within me. "But I still thought it was important to bring up the possibility—"
He held up a hand, cutting off my words with a gesture that felt dismissive. "You shouldn't be speaking to me like we're equals because we're not,” he said with a sneer. “You’re wearing a collar, for godssake.” He stuck up a finger. “You're here because I allowed it, because I need your help. But don't mistake that for anything more than it is."
His words hung in the air like a heavy curtain, separating us further, reminding me of the power dynamics at play in this world. I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat as I struggled to find my voice.
“Then what would you like me to do?” I asked.
“Such a mouthy mortal.” He grabbed my chin and pulled me closer to him. “Careful, my dear. I would have to punish you, should you disrespect me so flagrantly. Mind your temper or there will be consequences.” I glared, upset I tried to control myself before. “As to your question, you will attend the dinner as my pet. You will listen to what the Fae say, pick up on their conversations and interactions. Afterward, I will collect you, and you will tell me everything you heard."
I met his gaze, my anger still simmering beneath the surface but tempered by the knowledge that resistance would only lead to more pain. "And if I step out of line?" I asked. I didn’t refrain from giving him attitude. It was foolish, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
A hint of a dangerous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Then you'll see just how creative Fae punishments can be," he replied, his voice soft but carrying a weight of promise that sent a shiver down my spine.
I nodded, the weight of Pan's threat settling upon me like a heavy cloak. "I understand," I bit out, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I have just one more question.”
“You’re certainly becoming a spoiled thing,” he said but arched a brow.
“What if it isn’t the Mad Mage?” I asked. “What if it’s someone else?”
Pan gave me a long look before he released my face. “The only threat to me is the Mad Mage,” he said. “Anyone else will burn for even thinking of attempting to kill me. And that includes you.”