Storm Siren

“Have you ever seen any of these people when they’re not at Adora’s parties? Like when they visit the villages they oversee?”

 

 

“Nah. But most of ’em don’t seem so bad. Why? Have you?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. Because I don’t want to explain something she obviously can’t understand.

 

“You ever been to the High Court afore?”

 

Suddenly I don’t know how to do this. I don’t want to talk about any of it. I don’t want to be here. The closest I ever got to the High Court was when the politicians came to collect taxes or announce a proclamation. A few officials were nice enough. But most? Most were known for eating all the food and then complaining it wasn’t good enough while grabbing some poor slave girl’s thigh beneath the table. Or worse. I glance back at the man standing close enough for me to slap. They have a smell you can never get rid of.

 

And now Adora’s house is full of it.

 

“Let’s go outside and find fresh air.” I need to breathe. I need to be doing something, anything—cleaning, cooking, shoveling manure from the animals’ stalls—other than just sitting here discussing an uppity world I can’t relate to and recalling memories I can’t bear.

 

Breck frowns. “Not allowed to. Adora’s orders.” She sits on the bench against the wall and leans her head back against the wood. “Methinks it’s time for a nap, idiot girl. What say you?”

 

I don’t say anything. I yank my wretched sleeve back up my shoulder and quietly slip away to find a corridor that’ll lead me out of this blasted place.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 6

 

OUTSIDE, THE SALT-LACED BREEZES COOL MY face. My blood reacts to the briny air, pulsing in unison with the waves beyond the mountains.

 

I hurry along the cobbled path leading away from the servants’ exit, staying in the shadows until the house is far enough behind. When I do pause to look around, it’s amid the back area I’d seen from Adora’s upper-story window. The loud music and laughter float away in the quiet expanse, as the candlelit lanterns swing in the breeze, illuminating the air above and the gardens around. The spacious lawn is edged on two sides by miniature ponds, and along the other sides are two structures. One, directly across from me, is a small cottage. The other, on my right, is a massive barn and stables. I can hear horses stamping and nickering within. The barn Adora warned me to keep away from?

 

I hike up my dress skirts and head for it.

 

The horses’ musky scent envelops me before I reach the door. Familiar. Earthy. Manure and sweat and peasant life. I close my eyes briefly and drink in a host of images—brushing down farm horses, fieldwork, housework, babies.

 

A noise behind me interrupts my thoughts, and I turn to snap at Breck for finding me.

 

But no one is there.

 

Tugging the barn door open, I step onto the slightly raised wood flooring and slip inside. A soft whinny greets me. Then others. Without the moon’s enhancement, the space is murky, even with the lit lanterns hanging from the ceiling. When my eyes adjust, I’m staring at countless rows of stalls housing stately, midnight-colored, colossal-size horses.

 

The animals stamp their hooves and bob their heads. The one in the stall beside me huffs a greeting. I smile, and she gives me a responding click with her mouth. Then nudges her nose toward me.

 

“You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?” I murmur soothingly. “And pricey.” I suspect much of Adora’s money comes from inside this barn. I shuffle closer and almost slip in a puddle. A shock of cold oozes through my shoe as I catch my balance.

 

“What the—?” I pull my skirts up and look down to curse the dung I’ve stepped in—except it isn’t dung. It’s a pool of liquid slowly soaking into the floor and into my slipper, and it’s surrounded by more dribbles leading farther into the barn. Each one an uncomfortable shade of red.

 

My mouth goes dry just as I note the clump of bright orange tufts stuck in the blood-colored fluid. It’s the same fiery shade as the hair of one of the gentlemen in the hall earlier.

 

I straighten and shake my head.

 

It’s just from an injured ferret-cat.

 

The horse nearest me whinnies again, as if calling for my attention and telling me to shake it off. I move to the beautiful mare and am just reaching my deformed hand up for her to smell me when I see specks of foam around her lips. Her neck has a slight glisten, too, like she just got back from a run.

 

“I wouldn’t advise touching them.”

 

I spin around to see a man standing at the door. His dark skin blends into the shadows, making his green eyes stand out like fireflies in the lantern light. They’re shocking in their brightness.

 

“Who’re you?”

 

He doesn’t respond. Just tips his head toward the horse. As if I should pay attention.

 

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