CHAPTER EIGHT
ALYSSUM
Sleep had not come easily, and even when it finally descended upon me, the nightmare it brought was unrelenting.
Vacants had chased me through the woods, their big, saucer eyes threatening the emptiness I feared more than anything else; I knew that if they were to catch me, I would lose myself just as they had.
So instead, I ran, noisily crunching the autumn leaves beneath my boots.
The trees blurred in my periphery as I launched myself forward, thighs and calves screaming against the exertion.
Whenever my lungs felt they were on the verge of giving up, I’d collapse against the moist bark of a nearby ironbark for support—but they never stopped coming.
Eventually, I was herded to a clearing where Father and Linus waited beside a traveling carriage.
They stood before the Threshold, brandishing sinister smiles wide enough to split their faces in half.
I turned on my heel, ready and willing to push my body to its limits if it meant escape, but the Vacants had found us, and there was nowhere to run.
My father and brother began speaking one after the other, their words alternating like a single, splintered voice: “Marry the Prince. Become a Hollow Queen.” Their too-loud voices echoed in the clearing, and I fruitlessly pressed my palms to my ears.
I meant to scream, but the words escaped my mouth as a barely audible whisper: “I refuse!” The Vacants were pressing in, the moonlight illuminating their empty faces. Terror climbed through me as I edged closer to my family.
“Please,” I whispered to Linus, searching his features for something reminiscent of the young boy that used to hold my hand as we stomped around the castle. But his crazed eyes were empty of recognition.
I had no choice. In the end, I decided that becoming Hollowmire’s queen was preferable to becoming a Vacant, so I entered the carriage willingly, shackled and despondent.
“She will prepare you for him,” Father and Linus chorused, their eerie smiles never once wavering.
I sobbed against the barred windows, begging for mercy, when the rattling breath of a creature stopped my heart. I slowly turned my head towards the pitch-black interior of the carriage. My breaths came in shallow bursts as all sounds ceased save for the ragged, inhuman inhales by my side.
Without warning, the creature opened its eyes, and two platinum orbs exploded light into the cabin. It was too bright to see, and my hand instinctively rose to shield from the blinding light, but for a split second, I could have sworn I was about to be devoured by an enormous black wolf.
I’d awoken with a start, gripping fistfuls of my bedding as if it could protect me.
My breathing remained as shallow as it had in the carriage, and it took an unreasonable amount of time to force my eyes open and peek around my bedchamber.
The absence of those platinum orbs, or any wild animal, sent a wave of ease down my spine.
The sky through my window was still an inky black, and cloud cover swallowed up the stars.
It was just a nightmare, I reminded myself.
If only Father’s words had been a nightmare, too.
As I laced up my boots, I glowered, a well-fueled fire raging in my chest.
Prepare me for him? I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it sounded like complete and total nonsense. I was a princess of Lunamor, the greatest kingdom north of the Cleovian Sea, and I was not to be prepared for anyone; they would have to prepare themselves for me.
If only a sliver of that confidence had been present during last night’s supper of suffering, perhaps I might have voiced my concern and gleaned some insight into Tilda’s responsibilities for the morning.
Instead, I’d simply bowed and vacated the great hall as quickly as possible, only to spend the rest of the evening tossing, turning, and devising a plan that would surely work to my detriment, landing me in more trouble than I’d ever been in before.
But if Father needed me presentable for my soon-to-be fiancé—and who knew how quickly they might arrange the ceremony, if preparations hadn’t begun already—there wasn’t much he could do in the way of his usual punishments, was there?
I surveyed myself in the mirror, leaning this way and that to avoid sections that needed polishing. The Sentinel uniform was similar to what I’d worn the night before, albeit less striking with its hues.
The slate-grey tunic, designed to camouflage a body against the wall, was tailored to my size.
Unlike traditional women’s tunics, it hit just above my thigh and had a modest neckline, laced together from the sternum up.
I tightened the black, many-pocketed belt around my waist, admiring the way it flattered my form.
The pants matched the tunic and left much less to the imagination than our dresses, slim enough to feature a woman’s legs, but not so tight as to disallow the torturous physical activity Anise claimed was “training.”
I turned, daring to steal a glance at my reflection’s backside. I smirked triumphantly—Linus was wrong, yet again. “Talk about accentuated,” I mumbled to myself, humored.
A robin’s birdsong coaxed my chin to the billowing silk draperies of the window by my bed; dawn would be approaching soon, and I needed to move if I was to meet Anise at the appointed hour.
With a quickened pace, I secured my hair into one long braid, forgoing the decorative ribbons as I always did when training as a Sentinel.
I walked to my window only to be met with a biting wind.
The stifling heat had finally broken, and I breathed in the crisp air as though I were hungry for it.
“Praise the stars,” I whispered, eyes closing against the kiss of frost on my cheeks. I allowed myself the briefest moment to savor the cold before skipping to my cupboard to retrieve my grey cloak. I swung it over my shoulders, fastened the top with my moonstone pin, and returned to the window.
In one swift motion, I jumped onto the ledge, steady enough to surprise even me.
I crouched there, overlooking the kingdom bathed in darkness.
A few stray lamps littered the streets below, their fire’s glow a tease that had me wondering what mischief my fellow early risers were partaking in.
Without the sun or either moon’s assistance, I could not make out the wall that surrounded Lunamor on three sides, but I felt its protective presence all the same.
Another chilling gust carried the robin’s birdsong my way, and I lowered myself from the ledge in response.
My movements were purposeful and practiced as I hung there, preparing for the drop.
The longer I hesitated, the more my anxieties multiplied, so I relaxed my body with an exhale and let go.
I fell into the darkness, trusting my instincts as the balls of my feet came into contact with the gravel first. As soon as my heels hit the ground, I bent my knees in search of balance, but lost my footing and rolled backwards, landing imperfectly in a heap.
I stifled a curse, well aware that at least one Sentinel was near enough to hear if I made too much noise.
I had managed so much of what Anise had taught me, from descending the wall, to jumping great distances, and even moving about the castle and surrounding villages without being detected.
But heights remained my greatest weakness, as she never hesitated to remind me.
A plummeting stomach was a sour stomach, and although I was getting better at controlling the fear, I was not yet what I ought to be.
After a quick self-assessment to ensure I was without injury, I regained my composure and began making my way to the depot.
Each time the robin sang, my pace grew more urgent.
It was a delicate dance, balancing stealth and speed, but it was the one area where I’d been a surprisingly quick study.
I avoided the Sentinel who watched the skyway by dropping onto its roofing from above.
I silently scaled its length, keeping low to camouflage against the mountainous backdrop.
Once I’d made it to the Sentinel’s Depot, it was a series of drops from one ledge to the next to avoid being seen.
It would have been impossible in the daylight, and relying on the cover of darkness was thrilling—a fact I reminded myself each time I let go, to dissuade the panic simmering just beneath the surface.
After scaling down the tower with manageable trepidation, I crouched onto the elevated entrance of the depot without losing my footing. If the faintest hue of blue hadn’t peeked over the eastern wall at that exact moment, I would have paused to celebrate, but I was out of time.
Without delay, I lunged for the double ironbark door. I pulled it open with all of my strength and heaved myself inside, stumbling forward and landing unceremoniously at someone’s feet.
You have got to be kidding m—
“You’re late.”
If I’d have wanted to take a smack to the head, I might have argued.
“Am I?” I questioned instead in a high-pitched tone that hopefully sounded innocent.
Before I could move to stand, I was on my feet, Anise’s fist gripping the back of my clothes as if I were a child.
She shoved me towards the nearest window so that I could see the faint glow of morning light ascending from the rolling hills that separated us from Hollowmire.
Fortunately, other Sentinels had yet to make their way to the depot, so my humiliation was without audience.
“What do you think?” Despite the force with which she held me against the window’s ledge, her cadence was slow and sleepy.
“I… I think that, if I squint, I may be able to see the faintest hint of—”
Anise pulled me back by my cloak. I tripped over a crooked floorboard and fell, landing right on my ass.
“That’s going to bruise,” I groaned.
“No concern of mine,” she said, leaning against a large table littered with maps and quills.