Page 12 of Antiletum

Yes, we revere and pray to owls. But still, they’re predators and not often known to become friendly with humans—as Tabitha so kindly pointed out nearly two months ago, the first time this particular dark barn owl appeared at my window.

But all he does is slowly lean in towards my still raised hand, his flat, heart-shaped face coming up to my palm, soft feathers grazing my skin…

And slowly rubs his beak against my wedding ring.

A disbelieving sigh flows past my lips. Paralysis breaking, I lower my hand, unsure. Luckily, the panicked, squeaking mouse sensing a hunter gives me something to do. “Alright,” I say shakily. “That’s enough. Go eat.”

He’s still perched on my leg, those long, destructive talons resting against my thin skirt carefully, not even snagging on the fabric. Motioning towards the window to warn him, he follows my lead, weight shifting from foot to foot in preparation.

Swiftly, I unscrew the lid and fling the poor little mouse into the summer night, letting it tumble through the air in a flailing of limbs and tail.

The owl’s wing brushes my cheek, ever so softly, as he takes flight, diving towards his snack and catching it with ease, flying back in the direction of theStrigiForest.

3

Really, Parliament is to blame

Val

Crickets and cicadas are deafening in the late night—or would it be early morning?

With a rough cough, I try to dispel the scratchy rawness of my throat. Failing, of course.

As a distraction, I bounce the flat side of my dagger on my knee, crouched on the Heartstone. It thrums with life for the first time in hundreds of years. All thanks to me and my wife.

The steadytap, tap, tapof my blade against my leg folds into the sounds of nature and the creaking of the ancient Ellden clock, that hand still working to go backwards because of Delaney’s actions, balance not yet restored. Eyeing the trees and shrubs warily, straining my hearing for other living things, I decide I don’treallycare if my actions tonight are witnessed and revealed. Other than to Delaney.

A relatively low risk I will have to take. One I didn’t even worry for during my wedding. Parliament was always going to know of the Heartstone’s resurrection. There was no hiding it. Not that I even tried.

Finally, fuckingfinally,after sitting out here for nearly an hour, Tabitha begins to rouse.

Her empty carriage is clunking along on its way to her posh prick intended’s minor estate where it will never arrive. Too bad. They really were well matched.

Somewhere along the way, bandits will take it over, strip it of all finery, and the bodies within (one in particular the exact height and body shape of Tabitha) will be charred to a crisp.

No one will ever know her ending truly came in theStrigiForest on the outskirts of Greystone Manor, feeding a hungry Heartstone while the other two are still dead.

Balance and all. Really, Parliament is to blame more than me.

On the same altar at the center of the Heartstone where I first made love to my darling wife, her insufferable cousin starts to cry. “No,” Tabitha chokes, yanking on the chains keeping her arms in place. “No, no, no!”

Panic lacing her voice tells me she knows exactly where she is. And exactly what is about to happen. I appreciate Mallin’s gentle urgings that she leave early, giving me this opportunity without much work on my end. He’ll be pissed when “Tabitha” turns up robbed and dead in her carriage, knowing I’m the cause.

But what else was there really to be done here?

“Quiet.”

Standing tall and slowly rounding the platform until I’m at Tabitha’s head, I bend down to shadow her face from the sky. Her own perfect picture of death. Only I won’t be using my power over death to bring her back from where I will be sending her.

Tabitha doesn’t heed my command. Her whimpers are more frantic, tears that reek of fear stream from her eyes into her blonde hair.

I smirk. She screams.

Anticipating such, I pull the prepared bunch of cotton from my pocket and shove it in her mouth. She gags and chokes around it. I suppose I wasn’t exactly gentle in shutting her up.

Surmise to say I’m a tad frayed these days.

With my palms resting on the altar, I lean to speak quietly in her ear, but my words are halted as the Ellden clock makes another screeching grind. It’s far more finicky lately, given that I have upset what Parliament has worked so hard to keep in check.