Page 23 of Wild Reverence

But his older brothers? His father? Would they defend me?

I knew based on Vincent’s nightmare that his uncle, who also lived in their fortress, would want to use me.

And yet I suddenly could not imagine asking Vincent to protect me, not when it would come at a high price for his kindred and his people.

I also did not know where, exactly, his fortress was located.

Only that its roots were beside a river, and that there was a bridge with three towers that we had often explored in his dreams.

My hope began to fracture.

“Where did Phelyra flee to?” I asked.

“She most likely went far below, down to the old catacombs, to bide her time and outwit the hounds until she can return, which could be years from now. It is not a safe area for you to shelter.”

I was at a loss. There was no other place for me to go.

Bade heaved a sigh. The hissing water of the rill caught his attention for a split second before he looked at me again, framing my face in his calloused hands.

“I think it is time for you to go Skyward,” he said gently. But his expression creased, like the words were barbed on the edges, cutting him from within. “You traveled there once on my behalf. You can do it again and plead the protection of your father.”

Thile of Skyward.

Suddenly, I understood the boiling water. Why the stone walls around us, as well as beneath our feet, were steadily growing warmer, like summer’s heat was traveling as far below as it could, touching the darkness.

My mother had broken her vow.

She had spoken his name for the first time since their parting fourteen years ago, saving it for a dire moment. A moment when I was in trouble. She had known uttering his name would summon him, that he would be looking for her and the daughter he did not know existed.

“He might want to kill me,” I said, hoarse.

“He might.” Bade could not deny it, not even to assuage my fears. “And if he attempts it, you defend yourself with your shield and your sword, just as I taught you. You protect your fault line for as long as it takes his anger to die down.”

I nodded, but my heart felt burdened, struggling to beat.

“Bade,” I said. My chin quivered against his palms. “I am afraid.”

There was a moment when the god of war seemed to waver, and I thought he was about to tell me to stay.

That we would barricade the forge and hold off the hounds and Dacre’s commands for as long as we could.

Until the cupboard was empty and we had nothing to eat, and the rill’s boiling waters evaporated and left us with nothing to drink, and our disgrace was a permanent mark upon our skin.

“Sir!” Hem’s voice, which was never frantic, pierced the air. “They are coming.”

Bade’s hands fell from my face.

“We need to go,” he said, and I followed him back to the common room, where Adria met us.

She passed me a satchel of food and a flask of wine, which I stored in another moonstone pocket. I was about to rush after Bade when she took my hand, squeezing my fingers.

“You are strong,” she said. “You are brave. And you will return to us.”

I breathed in her benediction, surprised by how much it steadied my resolve, but there was no time for me to thank her. Bade shouted at me to hurry, and Adria relinquished my hand.

I chased after him, emerging into the forge. Bade had donned his red cloak and a shield was on his arm, his great sword sheathed at his side.

“You are coming with me?” I asked, hopeful.

“I will escort you to the mortal door,” he replied. “Once above, you must find your father on your own.”

Of course, I thought, hating how my chest ached.

“Swift travels, Matilda,” Hem said with a bow. And then, with a glimmer of pride in his eyes: “Strike true.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but a hound’s bark cut me off. They were close, just around the bend of the southernmost route, which was laden with shoulder-high fog.

“This way,” Bade said, indicating the eastern corridor. “To the Wirewood’s doorway. You lead, I will follow.”

I broke into a run, my legs feeling stiff at first. With a start, I realized this was the same passage I had once followed Bade through, when the thorn was no longer a thorn in his side. How strange to be flying through this corridor now with him, pursued by hounds.

Five breaths later, my skin shone with perspiration. My dress clung to me, damp. The air was uncommonly humid and hot. Even the walls surrounding us were weeping. Water dripped down the stone and gathered in pools, making the floor slick.

My father, once again, sending his magic to the very depths of the earth, seeking Zenia.

Four breaths later, the fog receded entirely.

I was so startled that I slid to a halt. Bade nearly bowled me over.

“What?” he barked. “Why did you stop?”

“The fog! Where is it?”

“Dacre has called it to heel. No doubt to see us better in the corridors.”

“He can do that?” I resumed our run. “That is like halting time.”

“He can do many things as lord.”

The thought made me shiver. We were nearing the stairwell that would lead to the Wirewood Door when I saw hounds in the passage up ahead, their translucent skin and fiery hearts an easy marker.

With the fog gone, they could see us, just as I could see them.

My pace faltered; fear burned the back of my mouth.

“To the right,” Bade said, steady. “We can reach the Blue Meadow Door.”

I careened to the right when the passage forked, Bade panting on my heels.

But the hounds followed, their bays growing excited as they sighted their prey again, their claws scratching the stone floor with speed that only intensified when the corridor became a long, flat tunnel studded with chalcedony.

Another pack of hounds appeared in the distance, blocking our path.

“They are cutting us off!” I cried, losing speed.

“Right passage!” Bade directed, and we took another turn to evade. My mind felt muddled as I sought to etch a map, orienting myself. We could still reach the Blue Meadow Door, if we could remain on this route.

My hopes were dashed when I saw Dacre waiting for me twenty paces ahead, gleaming in the firelight. Golden hair and robes so brilliant they looked like woven moonlight. He knew the very door I had been seeking to escape through.

“Matilda!” he called, and the walls shuddered. The fire in the sconces guttered at his power. The hounds let out a chilling howl. “Matilda, do not run from me.”

“Keep running,” Bade urgently whispered. “Take the sinister path.”

A third time, we veered.

And then when the route branched, Bade guided me to take another right.

“Do not slow, and do not look behind, but listen… listen to me.” He was winded.

I could tell he was slowing; there was a lag between the pound of our footfalls.

“You can make it to the Dark Lake Door if you take the sinister path and follow the shadows. You fly, Matilda. You do not stop until you reach the mortal realm.”

I felt a whirl of empty air behind me. A beat later, there was only the sound of my sandals, clipping the floor.

I could not resist.

I glanced behind, and my pace eased.

Bade had stopped. He was watching me, the distance between us expanding, his eyes blazing. He had drawn his sword, and his shield was ready. Behind him, I could see movement. It was the hounds, coming for us like a foamy ocean tide.

“Keep going!” he shouted. “Do not stop for me.”

Was he a fool? Why had he given up?

A moment later, I realized why when the hounds slammed into his body. They tore at his cloak; they shredded his skin, drawing his blood. They were desperate to slip past him, eager to reach me, but he was as stalwart and unyielding as a gate.

He held them back.

“ Bade! ” The scream tore up my throat, echoing down the corridor. I slid to a halt, recalling my shield.

“Run, Matilda,” he said, his voice husky with pain. “ Run! ”

A sob nipped my breath, but I followed his orders. I stored my shield and resumed my run, tamping down my tears.

I left him and the snarl of the hounds far behind.

The crossroads was imminent, and the narrow passage to the Dark Lake Door branched off like an afterthought.

But even here, there was no relief. Alva held a torch up ahead, waiting for me to reach the juncture.

Her shrewd eyes saw me dart into the shadows of the Dark Lake route, and she was quick to pursue me.

“Matilda! Stop, dear one, and let us speak!”

I raced into the darkness, my hand outstretched, following the wall as my eyes struggled to see the winding path. Small pebbles scattered beneath my feet; I danced with the fear of slipping. Alva’s torchlight bled into shadows at my back, alerting me that she was gaining speed.

Just a bit farther, I thought, pushing myself to run faster.

“I am your ally!” Alva’s voice chased after me. “I know you are not at fault here. I know this was your mother’s doing. Please, stop! Let me help you.”

My heart dangled, uncertain. I wanted to trust her. All those hours I had passed reading her scrolls, soaking in her magic secondhand. I wanted to believe she would not harm me.

I almost slowed. I almost gave in. My lungs were heaving, my legs trembling from the effort.

I almost let her catch me, until Bade’s voice welled in my memory.

You do not stop until you reach the mortal realm.

I sprinted the remainder of the way until I saw the dim outline of the stairs, cast in blue light. I began to ascend them, Alva and her torchlight following.

“Matilda!” This time, her voice had become glass, cutting the air. “I gave you Vincent, and this is how you repay me? By running like a coward?”

That stopped me in my tracks.

I turned to glare down at her, only ten stairs between us.

“You gave him to me?” I snarled, breathless. “You gave him to me? Like he is some vassal? Like he is a mere pawn in your scheme to make me trust you?”

Alva slowed, her face sweating but composed. She continued to climb the stairs, torch held high.

“Listen to my words,” she said. “I know you are frightened. I know you had nothing to do with your mother and Phelyra’s crimes.

We only want to know which Skyward she was bartering the scales to.

But if you run… if you step through that door and leave our realm, it will be a very long time before you can return here. Consider that.”

I knew there was truth in what she was saying.

Once I fled Skyward, I would be disgraced. Many years would need to pass before it would be safe for me to return. Years until the fire of Dacre’s anger was quenched, and my mother’s crime and my disobedience to him were a distant memory.

I knew all these things, and yet Bade’s voice cut through my wavering heart.

It is time for you to go Skyward.

I turned and lunged up the remaining stairs.

Alva hissed, reaching out to snare my ankle. Her long nails pierced my skin, but I slipped from her hold. Blood dribbled down my foot; I could see the light of the mortal realm, seeping around the edges of the door. A taunting promise of the unknown.

I reached the threshold, that heady place of in-between. A space that swarms with both magic and the mundane. My hand was quick to find the iron handle.

The door swung open with a rumble.

I staggered into the harsh, unforgiving heat of the summer sun.