Page 15

With bated breath, I tug my bag from between the couch cushions, pull out the cloak I’d nicked, and slide my feet into my sandals. I slip out to the balcony. The air is chilled, and the kingdom below quiet. I pause there for a moment, certain he’ll come bustling out after me.

When nothing happens I coax myself into action and extract the braided cord out of my bag, tying it tight around the bottom of the rail and the other end around my waist. I cross my bag over my chest before I carefully maneuver to the other side of the rail.

I’m not going to look down. I can do this. Nothing to worry about. I inch down the cord and, with a quick breath, propel myself over the edge of the balcony.

When the cord doesn’t immediately snap with my weight, I shut my eyes and blow out a breath. The distance didn’t seem so far before. Now that I’m dangling above it with only my strength and this braided cord I’ve fashioned out of a blanket and some clothes, it looks very, very far. The muscles in my arms groan as I shimmy down the rope. When my feet finally make contact with the next balcony’s rail I let out a whimper in relief.

“Alright, Div, it’s your go,” I whisper.

He flutters up from my shoulder to untie the rope. My heart jolts when it thumps to the balcony in front of me. I stare at the door, wondering what I’ll do if someone comes out. Take out my knife and fight them off? The longer I linger the more likely that is to come to fruition. Keep moving. One down. Three more to go.

I repeat the process, and a surge of confidence blooms in my chest as I clear the next balcony. The groaning of my muscles turns to screaming. Syra and I used to climb-- trees, houses, the castle roofs, everything– however that was long ago. My arms quiver, and my palms burn with the friction. A sheen of sweat accumulates across them, and I slide a little, grunting with the effort to hold myself from certain death.

My pulse is a fluttering bird as I tie the rope around the very last rail, listening closely for any signs of disturbance. There’s only the vacant land below me, void of life besides the hum of insects coming from the gardens. It’s not until I’m nearing the end of the rope that I realize I’ve made a grave error.

The distance between this last balcony and the ground is much further than the distance between balconies. Out of slack and still hanging at least ten feet from the ground--I’m going to have to jump for it. I hang one-handed as I wrench the rope loose from my waist and shimmy the small amount of slack it has afforded me. With a last swallow and a deep inhale, I let go and brace for impact.

The air is lugged from my chest as I thump onto my back. My pulse skitters as I lie there, sucking in sharp breaths, wondering if the noise will attract anyone’s attention.

When nothing drifts from the shadows to demand of me what it is I think I’m doing, my satisfaction soars. A nostalgic feeling, like when me and Syra successfully escaped the Old Matron Sybil’s clutches for the day. It unearths an overwhelming pang of homesickness.

Shaking it off, I tug myself to my feet and begin my trek around the garden. Div is thankfully quiet where he’s positioned on my shoulder. I keep my cloak pulled low over my head as we track down vacant alleyways.

A crowd hovers outside of a bar, and I move past them swiftly. I can’t resist the urge to ogle. Some of them have horns, animal ears, and even wings. When eyes drift my way, I rapidly turn away. Don’t look at me.

Pay me no attention. I have to fight the urge to sprint, forcing myself to take measured steps that are much too slow for the frantic beating of my heart. When I get to the rubble of the outskirts of the kingdom, I make sure to stay far away from where witches gather on corners.

It takes me longer to get through as I work my way around them, however I manage to evade notice.

My legs are already growing tired as I finally near the end of the Kingdom and the edge of the Blood Wood. I’d traced a poorer version of his map onto a sheet of paper I’d stolen from his notebook. I chose the Blood Wood because it’s the closest bordering wood to the kingdom, and Div seemed adamant about taking the fastest path back to the Wastelands.

Not that I particularly wanted to track back to the Wastelands, whatever I may have agreed to with Div. Freeing his former master is hardly my priority but I had to get away from them .

Get away from civilization as fast as possible.

Hopefully, another option will present itself to me along the way. Guilt twists my gut at the risk I might be putting Syra in. It could put our treaty at risk… I had to leave, I justify to myself. That was inevitable, and while it’s unfortunate I didn’t get the supplies from Vera, every second I remained there was a risk. I couldn’t not try…to survive .

I don’t have enough food to make it for long, but I did nab a decent number of golden coins in one of the drawers in his nightstand. Eventually, I’ll have to seek out civilization again. That will be far, far from this place with little to no chance of being recognized.

I study the looming Blood Wood. While the forests we traveled to get here had been a thriving green, this Wood looks like the bare of winter. Only a few faint pink leaves cling to the branches, the rest littering the ground.

I’m hoping I’ll feel safer and less exposed once I’m under the balcony of barren limbs. The forest is eerily silent as I creep in. There’s no humming of insects, no chirping of birds, only deafening silence. I cast a finger over the locket I stuffed over my head as soon as the prince had swept back into his chambers.

Digging the knife from the bottom of my bag, I grasp it tightly in my hand. Most of the trees are a ghostly, ridged white, a stark contrast to the near black of the others.

Disguised under the scattered leaves, the ground turns out to be a maze of gnarled roots. I’m forced to take each step cautiously, and my pace slows to a crawl.

Div lights a flame with his finger and snuffs it out, something he’s been doing every so often and is starting to stretch on my already over-extended nerves. “Cut it out. You’re going to light my hair on fire,” I grumble.

A few hours in, the worst happens. I grow careless, and my sandal snags on one of the gnarled roots and snaps. I curse as I take in the damaged twine. I fiddle with it for a moment. With no way to fix it, I rip off the other one and toss them both in my bag. My pace grows even slower as I do my best to avoid the sticks and rocks that prick my bare feet.

My stomach rumbles, finally protesting with the expenditure of energy. And I have so little food. Deep down, I don’t think I believed I would make it this far. I notice that my head is tilted toward the ground. The ingrained posturing of one of the Shrouded.

Be good.

Be sweet.

Be passive.

I lift my chin. I was never a good Shrouded. Syra was a good Shrouded. Another guilty pang twists in my gut. Maybe my father was right. Syra wouldn’t be the one running right now, putting our alliance at risk.

A few more hours pass like that, and I start to question everything. I’m tired, barefoot. I have no idea where I’m going. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Did I make my escape too hastily? What other choice did I have? The flicker of a lantern in the distance catches my eye, and I halt.

“Div, what is that?” I whisper. When he doesn’t respond I look down to find him fast asleep. I nudge him awake.

“What?”

“That. There. The light.”

“It’s the Will O’ the Wisp,” he says as if that should be obvious. “Well, don’t look at it,” he hisses, shoving a claw into the side of my jaw. I struggle to pull my gaze away from the strange flickering light.

“Why?”

“It will lull you to death,” he hisses. “This forest takes what it wants. It’s the Blood Wood,” he says in annoyance. “Don’t you know anything?”

“No, Div, I don’t know anything. I’ve been living behind a Wall my entire life.”

He grunts and mumbles out something that sounds a lot like you’re hopeless under his breath. I continue to trek forward, trying my best to keep my gaze away from the light that is always flickering in the distance, sometimes to the north and sometimes to the west. Always appearing just at the corner of my vision. I can’t help but study it for a few seconds before I wrench away.

My eyelids grow weighted. After tripping over the sixth root, I finally pause. “Div…I think I’m going to have to sit down for a while.”

“You can’t.”

“I’m so tired.” Nothing is more important than sleep. Nothing has ever been more important. I settle back against the base of one of the bone-white tree trunks, keeping the knife within my grasp.

Div starts to slap at my face. “Get up!”

I wave him off. “Wake me up in an hour,” I say with a yawn.