Watching her, I knew how she felt. I knew the loneliness. The king’s voice rang out, shattering the silence.
My gaze found his robed shape standing atop the battlements. Hatred welled up inside me at the sight of his face. “May this humble token serve as a testament to our deference, to our limitless respect and awe. . . .”
The rest of his words faded into a droning buzz. I knew them by heart—had heard them all my life.
She scanned the firelit faces, searching for one, her lips moving, mouthing what I knew was my name in a soundless plea. It was there, wordlessly humming between us. She clung to the feeble hope that I would come. That I would stop all this from happening.
That I would keep my promise.
I shook the bars with impotent fury.
The king finished and silence fell again. The gray deepened to purply black and the fog melted, giving way for night again. I scanned the distant tree line. Dark shadows swelled from the thicket, their black, growing claws stretching across the barren land toward her.
My chest hurt. Each breath an agony. She held herself so still. Her gaze trained on the faces watching her. Family. People she’d known all her life. No one to help her.
I’m here. I’m with you. I willed the words to her as though she could hear them.
She couldn’t believe that I didn’t care. She had to know. I had not abandoned her.
At the first inhuman cry, her body came alive, struggling against the ropes. Just as I’d seen countless others do. I had always marveled at that, wondered why they bothered fighting when it was so clear they couldn’t escape. Now I knew. The will to live was a powerful thing.
I screamed her name, shouting it between the bars until my voice grew hoarse.
They were coming and still she fought, choking on terror. Even though she knew there was no going back inside the keep, she battled for life. The keening cries increased in volume and overlapped. She struggled, her hair flying wildly.
Finally their horrible cries stopped. And so did she. She stilled.
I watched, my throat raw, my eyes wide and aching as I searched the darkness, fear bubbling like acid inside me. I knew what it meant when they quieted.
My heart thudded a deep, rushing beat in my ears. I sagged against the wall, utterly broken, my hands numb on the bars as my eyes strained against the relentless dark—darting, seeking, searching for their shapes in the impenetrable black where they hovered.
They were there. A single whisper escaped me.
“Bethan.”
The only answer I heard was her scream.
I woke with a ragged gasp, hands gripping the sheets like they were the bars of the prison cell from all those years ago.
It was the same dream. Except it had been a while since I last suffered it.
I inhaled, steadying my heart rate and forcing the images away. Lacing hands behind my head, I stared into the dark. It had been a long time since I felt a bed beneath me. I had spent many a night staring into the dark, sleeping in far less comfortable accommodations, storing up my strength.
I should have been enjoying a dreamless sleep. This was the most secure I’d been in a long time. I should have been taking advantage of that. Instead I was trapped in the old nightmare. I scrubbed a hand over my face as if I could rid myself of all thoughts of Bethan and that day.
After a few moments I succeeded in rerouting my thoughts. They strayed in the most obvious direction. A pair of bottomless dark eyes that saw nothing and yet saw everything floated across my mind. Luna.
It was almost as though her lack of sight made her stronger. Someone like her should be dead, but she wasn’t. She was thriving. Maybe a world of dark was best suited for the blind. I expelled a heavy breath.
She’d made me laugh.
I didn’t know the last time I had laughed. For a moment my chest had loosened. I felt lighter until I remembered that laughter didn’t belong in this world.
A knock at the door brought me upright. “Yes?”
The door creaked open. Perla stuck her head in my room, wisps of steel-gray hair floating around her. “It’s the boy.”
I slipped from the bed, pausing to slide my feet into my boots, knowing nowhere was ever safe—including this idyllic tower. I needed to be ready to run at a moment’s notice.
I followed Perla into the bedchamber. Madoc whimpered in the middle of the bed, his face flushed and sweaty. Dagne sat on the edge, wiping his brow with a cloth.
Sivo stood in the corner, looking bleary-eyed. Luna was beside him, her arms crossed in front of her defensively as though she was trying to shield herself from me.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
Perla nodded to the boy on the bed. “His fever has spiked. I fear it won’t break. We’re losing him.”
Dagne choked on a sob, burying her face against where his arm rested limply on the bed, her fair hair a pale banner of gold against the bedding.
I searched Perla’s face, wondering why she was telling me this. If he was dying, there was nothing I could do about it.