I take the stairs, step by agonizing step, up to the top. We emerge into the cold night, where the stench of decay penetrates the cloth covering my nose.
Gripped with dread and fear, I stop.
They’re going to take me away from here. Once I’m outside the castle walls…
He might never find me.
Never before have I felt so helpless.
Not even when father forced me to come here.
Anger eats away at me. I wish I was strong like Corvan. I’m supposed to be a half-dryad, aren’t I?
If there was ever a time for my powers to manifest, it would be now.
A powerful seal requires powerful magic to break.
“Move,” one of the guards grunts, roughly shoving me forward. I stumble and fall onto the hard pavement. Pain shoots through my knees. I grit my teeth and refuse to cry out. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.
“Get up.” Kinnivar stands over me. He reaches down and yanks me up by my collar, choking me. I hold my breath and try not to gag. I don’t want them to see my weakness.
Filled with fury but unable to do anything, I trudge forward, my boots crunching the snow. It’s a full moon, and the moonlight is unnaturally bright tonight.
I risk stealing a glance around. We’re just outside the perimeter of the castle. Thick stone walls loom on one side. On the other side is the edge of the forest, dark and brooding.
The trees stand perfectly still, their stately boughs laden with silent snow. Between them is the darkness; pitch-black and deeper than than infinity.
I glance at it. I can’t help it.
The forest beckons to me.
Come.
I thought I was imagining things before, when I sensed it had a presence.
Now, under the silvery moonlight, it feels alive.
The forest is ancient and immense, but it isn’t sinister.
In the face of all this awfulness, it’s strangely comforting. The trees can’t hurt me. They can’t steal my will or my fate.
I realize what they’re pushing me toward. A dark carriage is parked at the edge of the treeline. The windows are opaque, blacked-out with some sort of dark film. The vehicle is simple and unadorned, the cabin large enough to fit a party of four, nothing more.
It looks sinister.
Hitched to it are a pair of horses. One is grey, the other piebald.
Unlike the horses in the stables, whose terrified whinnies carry through the night, these horses are completely silent. They’re still, too, not making a sound. Not even scuffing their hooves or snorting.
They’re strange; unnatural.
Something’s wrong.
Terribly wrong.
I steel myself for pain and risk a glance over my shoulder, meeting Kinnivar’s eyes, glaring at him with all the venom I can muster.
A chill enters my heart.
The captain’s eyes glow.
The unearthly green hue fills me with dread. There’s no warmth in those eyes.
Does Kinnivar have magic too? He isn’t a vampire, though, so what is he?
“Move,” he hisses.
The guards are behind him, blocking any possible escape route. And even if I were to try and run, my arms are bound at my back. I’d be slowed down; unbalanced.
Now I can see that there’s something strange about them too. How did I ever miss it? Their movements are stiff and unnatural; almost machine-like.
Does everyone in the Goddess-forsaken empire suddenly have magic?
I fear that if they get me into that carriage, I’ll never return.
I am so tired of being bundled into stuffy carriages and carried away against my will.
If only I could scream, surely Corvan would hear me. But I’m silenced by this cursed gag, and these bastards are right behind me, breathing down my neck.
I need to trick them. I need to disrupt them somehow.
Clearly, they want to capture me alive. Someone knows what I am, or they want to hurt Corvan. Whatever it is, it’s obvious that I’m no use to them dead.
My life isn’t in danger, at least, even if they are prepared to hurt me.
“You.” Kinnivar points at one of the guards. “Pick her up. If she refuses to walk, you’ll just have to throw her in there.”
I have to do something.
I close my eyes and go still. The wind rushes through the trees, becoming a gentle roar in my ears.
I let go of everything.
Confusion.
Fear.
Control.
Against my screaming instincts, I force my body to go limp.
I fall to the ground.
Thud.
Pain shoots through my body. I don’t care. I hold my breath and simply stop.
I’m lying on the cold, hard ground, unmoving. Holding my breath for as long as I possibly can. I’ll hold it until I go blue.
“Fuck,” Kinnivar snarls. “What’s wrong with this bitch now?”
My eyes are closed, but I can hear him moving. He squats down beside me and grabs my shoulder, shaking me roughly.
I don’t dare move. This is becoming very uncomfortable. My lungs are starting to burn.
But I can’t let go now.
I need to create just a little bit of doubt in his mind.
“Get up. What’s wrong with you? Wake up.”
My lungs are about to burst.
Just a little longer… I need him to…
“Shit.” At last, his hands go around my face. He unties the gag and pulls the rags out of my mouth. “Why aren’t you breathing?”
Now. Do it.
Just as it feels like my lungs are about to explode, I suck in the sweet, frigid air.
I breathe.
Then I open my mouth and scream his name as loud as I possibly can.
“Corvan! Help—”
But just then, the wind blows fiercely, rustling and howling through the canopy above, masking my cries.
“Shut the fuck up.” Kinnivar clamps his disgusting hand over my mouth, sticking his fingers in to stop me from screaming.
Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I thought I detected a note of panic in his voice.
Of course he should be panicking. Corvan’s going to tear him to shreds.
Filled with sudden fury, I bite down on his offending fingers, hard this time. I want to make him feel pain. I want him to bleed.
His skin breaks. He grunts in pain.
His blood fills my mouth, and it tastes strange; bitter and foul, a mixture of acid and rot. It burns my tongue. I hate it, but I have no choice but to swallow it down as the captain wraps one arm around my neck and slowly starts to choke me. “That was a mistake,” he says softly. “Go to sleep now, Finley. There’s nothing you can do. Corvan Duthriss isn’t going to last long. He’s an abomination. Should never have been given his titles in the first place.”
Kinnivar’s grip is unbreakable. I stare up at the night sky; at the huge, bright moon. My eyelids flutter. I start to drift. My consciousness is fading. The stars are so brilliant; glittering jewels of light in the inky blackness. They’re becoming blurry.
The whisper of the wind through the branches is louder than ever. It seethes and pulsates, developing a rhythm. The skeletal arms and fingers of the branches are above us, crisscrossing the star-speckled tapestry.
How did I not notice it before? There’s definitely a rhythm to it. Almost like music; like the pounding of drums and the rise and fall of strings.
Child.
What was that? A voice whispering in my mind?
Child, don’t despair. You’re under our protection. Hidden from us for far too long. How could we have missed you?