Page 28

M y room became my cell.

I’d been given two meals of gruel over the past four days.

It was easy to track how much time had passed because Jarrett retrieved me every morning to haul me up to the lab and back down again.

He avoided eye contact and kept conversations to a minimum.

It was a wise choice—protecting himself from consorting with the enemy.

When Jarrett returned me to my room on the sixth day, I was relieved to find my chamber pot had been emptied, and a fresh bowl of water provided in the basin.

Unthinking, on the second day of being locked up, I had used half of the fresh water to wash myself, after which the remainder slowly dwindled, leaving me to finish the last sips on the fifth day.

Needless to say, I was parched and beginning to smell.

The fresh water was a lifeline restored.

Jesmine had yet to address me. It was a torture in itself. Part of me wanted her to storm in my room and punish me just to get it over with, another part of me hoped she had forgotten my existence.

While giving blood one morning, I heard her shouting down the hall at a servant. But that was the closest she’d come since the incident. She would have more to say, I was sure. Being locked in my room was just the buildup until that time came.

My chamber was a small space to spend all of my time. Madness ate at me. Daydreams of Devrix forgiving me, breaking down my door, and stealing me away, were followed by nightmares of him binding me to a pyre while Jesmine cackled in the background.

In more lucid moments, regret burrowed a painful hole in my chest. Regret for not having said more after spilling the poison.

That moment could have been my chance to tell him of my developing feelings, and I had squandered it—let doubt and fear override.

I could have confided in him as soon as I entered the room, and we could have developed a plan together.

In my room, I rehearsed the many things I could have, should have, done, and the thoughts that I would never get to voice.

The days blurred.

If I stood on my cot and stretched up on my tip-toes, I could see the tops of trees, but my calves would quickly begin to burn, and I’d settle for peering out at the blue sky from the floor.

At night, the sky was growing incrementally brighter with the waxing moon, marking them as the first days of my third moon phase—the last moon phase of my obligation as the Blood Offering.

I still had no escape plan. Claire and I hadn’t even figured out how to get past the front door.

I missed home, my mom, Clay … Claire … Devrix. Even prison wasn’t as isolating.

Several more days of loneliness. The sun was descending for the evening, its rays shone through the small window and cast a gold orb onto the far wall.

Unexpectedly, the bolt unlocked, and my door opened. I sat up in the bed.

It was Ms. Salty. She had been sporadically delivering food scraps—I couldn’t call a slice of bread or the watery broth with a single carrot a meal. Today, though, there was more filling the plate than I’d ever been given before. It even looked appetizing.

“My lady says you are to eat all of it.” The sound of her voice startled me; I didn’t think she would ever spare a word for a human.

As if I might try to tackle her and flee, she kept her feet behind the threshold and plopped down the tray.

Her spare hand never left the door, and she tightly sealed it as soon as the food was distributed.

Then she was gone, like a thought I’d fabricated only to drift away as the next one arose.

Had it not been for the plate which still sat before me, I would have written the entire episode off as a hallucination.

My body was sore from lack of movement as I crawled over to the feast. It was entirely probable that the food was poisoned. That Jesmine had grown tired of me and found a replacement for the blood ward—there was only a sliver of me that cared.

I slowly chewed the tough meat and savored the squish of potatoes against my tongue as I spooned it up with my fingers. Like an animal, I licked the plate clean.

Belly cramped from fullness, I leaned back against the cold stone wall and dozed off.

The room was completely dark when a faint noise woke me.

A flicker of yellow torchlight flashed underneath the door, intensifying as the source drew nearer. A thud, then the flame illuminated the broadening crack of my opening door.

A silhouetted form stepped forward. Jarrett’s hazel and gray eyes peered down at me.

“You are needed to come with us,” he said without any sign of emotion.

Wordlessly, I rolled on my side and pushed to my feet. My sight caught on Arden, who waited in the hall, holding the torch that lit the area. He avoided my stare, adjusted his stance, and cast his eyes into the distance.

“Where are we going?” I was surprised at the hoarseness in my voice.

“You’ll see,” Jarrett said. “Hold out your hands.” The candlelight was scarcely enough for me to catch the fleeting pinch of regret in Jarrett’s features. He pulled out a length of rope.

My stomach swooped, and I faltered backward. Jarrett reached for my arm, stabilizing me before pulling my wrists together.

There was nowhere to run. I stood in shock as the rope was brought around my wrists, then looped together.

With a steady push Jarrett guided me from the room, past Arden who stood sentinel, gaze forward, jaw clenched.

Our footfalls echoed off of the empty walls as the two men escorted me down the hallway.

The ceiling opened as we approached the long vaulted foyer. At its center, Jesmine loomed. Ashloran torches burned their eerie blue flames in the brackets behind her. She pulled her attention from the crystal sphere, locking eyes with me.

“If it isn’t my invaluable servant,” she said, stepping forward.

Her lips hung in a crooked sneer, eyes cold and hungry.

“The new moon has come; another phase is complete. We may be a few days late, but well, we must mark the occasion. And as it happens, my dear Nova, I have a task for you to complete. One that …” She leaned near and tapped me on the nose for emphasis as she articulated, “Not. Even. You … can mess up.”

I swallowed and grit my teeth. My anger escalated, the words needed to escape. “I’ll never be as twisted and sick as you, no matter how much you punish me.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, then twisted her back to me and tilted her chin to the doorman. The heavy iron handle was lifted, and he opened the small door within the front gate.

A rush of cool air filled the room. The shadow of night opened before us.

“Take her,” Jesmine ordered.

Arden stepped up, switching out his standard torch for one with a blue flame. Jarret pressed me forward, grabbing a second Ashloran torch with his free hand. I tried to twist away, but the movement only made the rope bite into my wrist.

Stuck between Arden and Jarrett, my feet shuffled past the front gate, blue torches illuminating the way.

All the longing I’d built up to step beyond the fortress walls diminished as we rushed out onto the rocky path.

A patch of wispy clouds danced across the crescent moon, making the night grow gloomier still.

Shepherded along the open lawn, wind tossed my hair, veiling my face and obstructing my view.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded.

Neither man answered.

The dim light of the moon was cut off behind a high reaching tree line—the forest’s edge.

Entering the Shadow Wilds, we moved along a well-worn path. When I stumbled over a fallen branch, Jarrett caught my elbow and prevented an unpleasant fall.

The stirring autumn wind rattled the dense foliage, drowning out our footsteps. The constant uproar unnerved me as we traveled deeper into the woods.

Blue light reflected off of the tree trunks which circled the opening where we stopped.

Jarrett faced Arden. “This is your task,” he stated. “I will hold your torch.”

My eyes danced between them, studying their tense interaction. Arden took his time, scowling at Jarrett as he considered the order. After a brief pause, he pushed his torch into Jarrett’s hand.

Arden had yet to spare me a glance. Our last words were the heated exchange right before he had locked me in my room.

I didn’t know what to say to him as he grabbed the rope around my wrist. He pulled on the excess, drawing the loose end toward my feet.

It was then I noticed a heavy iron chain anchored into the ground.

Tugging away with all my strength, I shouted, “No! What are you doing? You can’t leave me out here!”

Rope tore at the tender flesh of my wrist as I tried to spin free. A sob broke loose … “You wouldn’t!”

Even with my resistance, Arden made quick work of fastening my restraints. His movements were efficient and practiced. When he stood, his expression remained withdrawn. His shoulders hung heavy.

Without uttering a single word, he turned, snatched his torch from Jarrett, and headed back in the direction which we came.

I looked to Jarrett, a feeble source of comfort. But it was he who leaned forward, rested a hand on my shoulder, and whispered into my ear, “Don’t fight, it will only harm you more. Be brave. You will make it through this.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and stepped away.

My voice cracked as I called out, “Don’t leave!”

I begged for them to take me with them.

Desperation grew as their distance increased. I began to shout insults to their manhood and spat at their backs—even if they returned in a fit of rage; it was better than being left alone, in the dark wilderness, surrounded by Slips, no torch to keep them away.

I was still cursing the men when their torchlight faded beyond the trees. I sucked in a shaky breath and strained my eyes to adjust to the night. Moments passed, I was alone.

Tree trunks towered like obscure pillars in my fortress of doom. Breathing deeply, I tried to calm myself and remain still, it wasn’t wise to draw attention. But startled cries escaped me as branches knocked and bushes shook from the blustering wind.

A thunderous bellow sent a slick chill to my bones.

Coldness filled my chest.

That noise, that blare, it hadn’t sounded in the whirling air around me—no, it was a song broadcast through minds.

Somehow I knew what it was— a Slip ’ s siren .

The deep call repeated … louder, stronger.

I forced myself to remain standing, defenseless against whatever was to come. Cowering wouldn’t save me.

Leaves and branches danced in the wind.

My attention caught—a nearby shadow did not waver. At the edge of the hazy night, an ominous aura lurked.

With single-minded focus, I watched and waited.

The spot of blackness grew, drifting with a steady approach.

My heart beat erratically against my ribs. Knees locked as the air turned dank and the taste of rot reached my tongue.

A murky gloom gathered before me. A black void. Empty. Sinister. Spiteful. Only an arm’s length away, the true form of a Slip overpowered the air before me.

Unlike my experience before, the Slip didn’t need to take on the resemblance of a loved one to lure me in. No need for mind tricks to possess me; I was tied up, helpless. An offering for the taking.

Icy hatred seeped from its shadowy edges.

Too dark to make out details. The mass before me altered. I sensed it splitting open. The blackness released an ear shattering trill; this sound rattled the air, coming from deep within its rotten soul. I winced at the pain in my ears.

The Slip leaped forward. Every muscle clenched as my vision went blank. A biting cold rushed up my nostrils. It was as if a thousand tiny shards of ice had been lodged in my brain, the pain sharp and all-consuming. Frozen. Frigid.

Piercing frost stabbed my lungs. My blood ran cold, a river in winter. My limbs grew numb … my mind followed.

For a fleeting moment, I opened my eyes and watched as the ground rushed closer.

The world faded.