Page 42

Rook

The dungeon was equipped with eight cells, built in a neat line.

Through the bars, two more prisoners sat in their respective cells.

One might think the ability to see fellow prisoners was reassuring.

This is a false thought, I’m afraid, as witnessing what was done to them offered little comfort.

An array of metal tools hung along the adjacent wall.

I was curious about one device in particular, only because I’d never seen it.

Comprised of criss-crossing iron, it was covered in a fair amount of its previous victim’s entrails.

I wondered which of the tools, if any, I might have the pleasure of experiencing.

Though none of the instruments could be more damaging than the smell coming from my fellow prisoners.

I rested with my hand over my nose, and any time I nodded off, I’d wake up gagging on the taste of sour milk and excrement.

I dragged my foot along the stone, resting it against the cell door. If I could muster the strength to transform, could I break out? I reached forward, gripping the bars.

Solid.

Even the Hound could not tear through iron.

Beaten and weak, I doubted I could change anyway. Just as well; death was welcome. I leaned against the damp stone. When death came, I would greet her as an old friend.

The hurried pitter-patter of paws rang out.

A remarkably well-fed rat crept from the dark.

I considered snatching the rodent and devouring it.

Standing on two feet, the rat sniffed the air.

Why take a life to sustain myself when my own would end so soon?

The rat scurried back to a crack in the wall.

In my pocket, I stroked the gnarled cuff that held me captive for so long.

A few nights ago, it had grown hot. So hot, I’d woken with a scream and torn it off.

An act I hadn’t managed since my visit with Marek, so many years ago.

Sitting in the castle dungeon, my newfound freedom from Marek was bittersweet.

My thoughts wandered the same path they always did when it was quiet. They chased a memory of a woman crouched at my bedside and landed on the face that brought me comfort in my isolation.

Liliwen.

Did she think of me?

Did her thoughts of me consume her?

Closing my eyes, I met Lili again. Wearing the red dress that stood out like a wildfire in the night.

The garment stunk of rusted metal—of blood—which only excited me further.

An…unfortunate byproduct of what I’d become.

How I envied everyone that might look upon her when I was dragged away.

That I was forbidden to perceive the one person who might bring me solace in my final hours.

I begged she kept her silence, to protect herself and her family.

That she would be strong—strong enough to let me die.

Would she be at the execution?

At the end of it all, a selfish part of me wanted her near.

It was pathetic, but, even if she had set out to kill me all those nights ago, I wanted her with me now that the end was near.

The scene from Lili’s cottage ran laps in my mind.

Her sister had betrayed us both. I could see Lili’s horrified face as she turned to her sister and cried, 'What did you do—'

“Lottie?” The guard at the end of the cell block said, surprised. Lottie traipsed through the stone archway. Her eye wandered down the row of cells, widening when it caught mine. Summoning every shred of charm scattered about herself, Lottie spoke to the guard.

“How are ya…Celia?”

“Um, it’s Celine, and not very good, actually. Dad passed last week.”

“That’s great, Celise.” Lottie said, patting Celine on the arm. “I’m here to relieve you.”

“But, my watch just began.”

“I’m sorry.” Lottie rounded on Celine. “You think I’m wrong?”

“Uh.” Celine cowered. “No—no, of course not. I was probably mistaken.”

“That’s what I thought,” Lottie said. Celine’s footfalls echoed down the stairs as she hurried up and away.

Lottie strolled down the dank cellblock.

I noted the bow at her back. Perhaps, to save her sister the pain of watching me die, she would kill me here.

Rather than draw her bow, Lottie leaned on the bars.

“Well, well, well…how the king of mongrels has fallen.”

Too weary to respond to the insult, I muttered, “You turned me in.”

“I did.”

“And you stabbed me with a pike, if I remember correctly?”

Lottie grinned, showing gaps that teeth used to call home.

“And I’ll do it again, if you don’t shut the fuck up and listen.

” I exchanged glances with the prisoner in the cell beside me.

Lottie’s youthful arrogance was astonishing.

I wrinkled my nose; she smelled so strange.

Lottie raised two fingers and a nub. “Three questions.” My distasteful scowl did nothing to dissuade her. “My sister, what colour are her eyes?”

“What?”

Lottie kicked the bars where my foot rested. I yanked it back and shouted, “Green?!”

“That sounded an awful lot like a guess—”

“They’re green,” I interrupted with confidence. A beautiful, mottled green, like the moss that grew at the base of the statues near the pond.

“What’s her favourite flower?”

“I—I have no idea.”

“Better think. Time’s running out before what’s-her-face realizes I lied and comes back with friends.”

I sifted through memories. When we sat next to the lake, Lili talked of flowers.

They were pink…or maybe white? With so many petals, like the rows and rows of a skirt.

They were her father’s favourite; could they be hers too?

I’d even brought them in the castle, if only to be reminded of her.

But what were they called?! Roses? Daffodils?

Artichoke? No, no, that was a vegetable—

“I’m surprised my sister showed affection to someone so unobservant,” Lottie remarked.

“Do I look like a gardener?” I snarled. Using the bars, I pulled myself up. “Can you name a single flower?”

Lottie examined a nail-less finger and said, “I’m not trying to court anyone’s sister.”

I dragged my hands down my face and thought of every flower I’d ever heard of. I tried to remember Lili, the cadence of her voice when she’d said the word. Roses? Primroses? P. It started with p—“Peony!”

Both Lottie and I glanced anxiously down the cell block. “Fair enough,” Lottie said. “I’d’ve assumed lilies.” Lottie looked me up and down. “Do you love her?”

My mouth fell open, and…I didn’t know what to say.

I slouched against the wall. So often, I remembered Lili with a book in her lap, lips bathed in firelight, forming words as if they were sweet melodies.

How I’d longed to reach out and touch her—to satisfy all my wonders and curiosities. Is her skin as soft as it looks?

Does she crave me the way I crave her?

Still, I could not answer Lottie.

My shackles clinked as I rubbed my chest, trying to ease the ache that settled there. I remembered when Lili and I first kissed beneath the sunset. My world changed, and I could hardly breathe—

The cell door creaked open.

“Let’s go.” Lottie unshackled me. My bonds fell away, and she muttered, “Marek’s dead.”

“He is?”

“Yup,” Lottie said. “Sisterly advice—stay on Mum’s good side.”

We climbed out of the dank dungeon, and the mildew gave way to fresher air, laden with melting wax and candle smoke.

At the top of the stairs, Lili’s mother greeted us.

Her gaze travelled up and down me, assessing.

A few days ago, I was the one who’d saved her children.

Tonight, I was just the beast who’d acted out the death command on her beloved.

Shame almost sent me back to the cell. Lili’s mother half-smiled, and hope stalled the spreading shame.

“You may call me Evette,” she said. “For now.”

“ For now is all we’ll have if we don’t hurry,” Lottie mumbled. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I can’t leave without Lili,” I said.

“My first-born is capable.” Evette dragged me on. “She will meet us once we’ve escaped.”

“Let’s go,” Lottie hissed.

Reluctantly, I chased after them. I heeded every sound and scent as we snuck through the halls.

All my focus should have been devoted to avoiding the guards, but I couldn’t help trying to find her .

I inhaled, searching for the smell of Lili’s soap, of the lemon salve she used on her lips.

It terrified me that I smelled nothing of her at all.

What if she’d been hurt? Rage tunnelled my vision. If anyone touched Lili…

Terror and thrill filled me as I thought of ripping their throats out, of the hot blood drenching my lips and coating my throat. I shook my head, doing my best to clear the lust. I made sure Evette was close. No more of Lili’s family would die—not while I breathed.

Ahead, Lottie rounded a corner. She reappeared, jogging in our direction. “We’re gonna go that way, uh, quickly.” She pointed behind us. A shout rang out from the way she’d come, and two guards rounded the corner. Lottie cried, “Run!”

I waited for Lottie to pass, then trailed her and Evette. “I don’t want to alarm you,” I said, “but I smell smoke.”

Without slowing, Lottie shouted, “Oh, good!”

“They’ll have evacuated the great hall,” Evette said.

“Where’s our back-up exit?” Lottie asked.

Breathing heavily, Evette replied, “We’ll go past the great hall and exit through the kitchens.” As we ran, I thought I caught sight of Lili through a door. I stumbled, but by the time I’d backtracked, she was gone. “Everard!” Evette called from the end of the hall. “Move!”