Page 9

A cage, however handsome, is a cage.

The Hound was in bed and asleep before I’d even made it through the balcony door. When I tried to wake him, he growled and pulled the blanket over his head. It reminded me of rousing Lottie for school and summoned old bitterness. I huffed and kicked the bedframe. The Hound did not wake.

‘You are home.’ The Hound’s words haunted me.

“We’ll see about that,” I muttered and left.

Down in the entrance, the giant doors remained closed.

I crossed the second story of the foyer, my steps softened by a crimson rug.

I stopped at a door, and an ornate staircase leading to the third floor.

Behind the door, I found another four-poster bed, this one fitted with lilac drapes.

I brushed the fabric—a soft velvet—and a cobweb floated down.

In the corner, a gilded vanity sat against the wall.

I dragged a finger along the mirror, it came back grey with dust. Brushes and hairpins inlaid with pearls sat, lost in time.

All the trinkets were tarnished, and I had no doubt they were silver.

I considered taking them, but the thought was met with sharp indignation.

Not for the act of thieving, but the belief that any object in this place was undoubtedly cursed.

I wiped dust on my trousers and wandered out.

The stairs to the third floor were best described as untrustworthy, and I chose to explore elsewhere.

Down in the foyer, I hustled past the door concealing the courtyard—and the evil tree—and headed for a door tucked beside the massive fireplace.

When I cracked it open, I was struck by a bright light so foreign to the rest of the castle, it was almost as if it were an intruder.

Sunshine shone through windows that ran the length of the room, their tops curved in intricate, rainbow-coloured designs.

Spectrums of light fell on rows of tall shelves, each one packed tightly with books. It was—

“A library!” The word spilled out, breathless with reverie.

Clutching my chest, I braced myself against a shelf.

In a thousand lifetimes, I never thought I’d see one.

The shelves blurred, and I blinked, banishing the tears.

I walked through the shelves, touching each leather spine.

My mother came from a wealthy family—they’d disowned her over my father, of course—but, unlike Father, Mother could read!

And she insisted Lottie, Lysander, and I learn as well.

Though we only owned three tattered books, and I was certain Lottie merely memorized them, thinking reading a waste of her time.

I bumped a ladder, and it rolled along the shelf.

Chasing after it, I climbed to the ceiling.

I pulled a book out and tore it open. My finger traced a sentence.

‘I couldn’t kill the creature, so I trapped him in a burrow until there was someone who could.

’ In a daze, I slid the book back and climbed down.

At the end of the library, two highbacked chairs of red velvet sat before a fireplace.

I plopped down and crinkled my nose against the puff of dust that billowed out.

Brushing the soft velvet, I relaxed into the chair.

I could spend a lifetime in here. Lottie might not appreciate the books, but I bet Lysander would…

reality settled over me like a sudden sickness.

Lysander is dying.

Each day I spent trapped here, Lysander crept closer to death.

I left the chair and approached the towering windows.

The stained glass adorning the window tops was quite miraculous.

A phoenix bursting from a mountain, the panes coloured in bright reds and oranges.

A figure, cast in shades of blue. In the centre most window, I found a knob, inlaid with a jewelled daisy.

I turned it, and to my surprise, the large window swung open.

I strode out onto an exquisite veranda, careful not to lean on any of the crumbling railings.

As far as I could see, a tall, stone wall surrounded the castle grounds.

I sidestepped a pot—the original contents were long dead; only brittle sticks remained—and headed to the grand staircase.

Navigating overgrown roses and disintegrating steps, I made my way down.

At the base of the steps, I was greeted by the statue of a woman.

Her face was long obscured by ivy, and her hand rested on the head of a stone wolf.

Another wolf lay obediently at her feet.

Passing the statue, I travelled along a gravel path almost entirely lost to grass, and down the sloping lawn, until I came to a covered well.

Inside, it was dark, and I couldn’t make out the bottom.

I wound the lever, drawing the bucket up.

Cool water sloshed over the side as the bucket approached the lip of the well.

I scooped a handful and drank. It certainly tasted nicer than anything from our well out back.

Beyond the well was a giant pond. I dried my hands on my trousers and wandered to the water’s edge.

I startled a giant bull frog, which let out a throaty croak and disappeared into the thrushes with a splash .

An old, wooden bridge arched over the water and landed on a small island in the middle of the pond.

Judging by the state of the castle, I didn’t risk the bridge.

Several feet into the water, something disappeared beneath the surface. Waves echoed out in neat rings. Was it a turtle? I approached the edge of the pond, moving aside reeds and grass. As the water lapped back and forth, I tried to make sense of the shadows. Rocks sat amongst the silt and—a face.

A jolt of shock stilled me.

Black hair surrounded the face like seaweed.

Realizing I’d seen it, the creature smiled.

Like some underwater serpent or fish, the figure floated from the shore.

It put forth a hand, beckoning me. I eyed the creaky bridge, wondering if it might offer a better vantage point.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, the watery figures smile deepened into a grin.

I backed away, quickly.

Hurrying across the unkempt lawn, I skirted messy hedges and abandoned vegetable gardens until I came to the high stone wall.

Searching for anything I might climb, I glanced left and right.

Though everything was neglected and overgrown, nothing came within ten feet of the structure.

I followed it all the way back to the castle, hoping to find a hole or breach, but there wasn’t one.

The castle might be crumbling, but the wall appeared more secure than ever.

Reluctantly, I walked up the veranda and went back inside.

In the foyer, the front doors were open.

I stared at them.

After a scan of the room, I approached. The doors were only open a crack, but I could probably squeeze through if I tried.

Again, I surveyed the room. Suddenly, all my childhood trapping lessons seemed incredibly relevant.

Examining the doors, cracked just enough that I could almost slip through, I felt so much like a squirrel approaching a snare.

On the other side was freedom—my nut, if you will.

Surely, I was smarter than a rodent… What was that?

A rattling sound carried down the stairs.

Had the Hound awoken?!

More shuffling…from the Hound’s room. He was definitely rousing.

I needed to go now or risk the beast catching me.

I snatched a decorative helm from a side table and tucked it between the doors.

Sucking in my chest, I slid between them.

A hurried shuffling sounded behind me—I turned back to the foyer.

Beneath my feet, an invisible force kicked the helm.

It sailed through the air and clanged loudly down the castle steps.

“Wha—”

The doors closed on me.

“Oof!” Pressure crushed the air from my lungs.

Creeeeak.

The door beneath the stairs swung open.

Terror spiked through me, and I tried to slide through. But I couldn’t. Like approaching fog, shadows crept across the foyer, carrying with them the sound of footfalls. Not padded steps, but the click-clack of claws.

Though I couldn’t see it, an entity approached.

I hammered the door, trying to pull myself to freedom.

The shadow reached the far side of the rug, and a foul odour, like rotten eggs, assaulted me.

Just like a snared squirrel, I struggled frantically, nearly strangling myself.

Out of the corner of my eye, the encroaching dark was almost upon me.

In my desperation, I clawed the door and cried out when a nail broke against the wood.

An iciness settled on my arm, like cold fingers wrapping them.

I sucked in my chest and stood tall, making myself as thin as possible—

“Agh!” I pulled myself through and skidded across the rough stones. My breath came laboured and fast as I stared at the cracked door. In a blink, a set of yellowed eyes disappeared into the shadows.

The doors swung open.

Pushing myself up, I bolted down the stairs.

I leapt over tangled roses and gave the scattered topiaries a wide berth.

When I approached the veil, I slowed. Like a line of saplings, several thin wolves greeted me with devious grins.

Trying to catch my breath, I leaned on my knees.

It wasn’t enough, and I collapsed. Several paces into the Hollow, my crossbow lay in a patch of underbrush.

When my heart finally calmed, I addressed the gathered wolves.

“What’s worse, being out there with you, or in here with him ?”

“That depends.”

I leapt up and, in my haste to greet the gravelled voice, nearly fell. Standing still as a statue, with hands clasped neatly behind his back, was the Hound. The grime was gone from his face, and his hair lay tied in a tidy ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Backing toward the wolves, I asked, “On what?”