CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALYSSUM
Isat on the stone seat of my bedchamber window with knees drawn to my chest, staring out over the still-dying merriment of the Feast of Comets.
No matter how I tried to calm myself, I couldn’t take a deep breath.
The shallow huffs I managed through pursed lips only exacerbated my anxiety.
I combed through recent events, trying to figure out how I’d gotten here.
Perhaps I could survive being married to Rowland.
Maybe, after I managed to give him children, he would bore of me and I could live out my days sequestered in Hollowmire.
For the sake of my kingdom. But would any children we had together be safe?
Would I be able to endure a pregnancy with that man? Would I even survive our wedding night?
My red-rimmed eyes had no more tears left to cry. My eye sockets felt like death, my teeth and neck ached, and my stomach threatened to heave whenever I lost concentration, mind wandering back to being pressed up against that wall.
The faintest pressure on my thigh, and I startled, though two luminescent green orbs dominated by round black pupils stilled my fright. I pressed a hand to my heart with a soft laugh, and for a single moment, I relaxed.
“I was wondering when you’d show yourself,” I said to Miss Mystis, as if she could understand me.
I stretched out so she could climb onto my thighs.
She perched there seriously, pawing at one of the front ties of my corset.
I hadn’t had the will to remove it myself.
Nora was meant to assist me with readying for bed, but I told the newly stationed Sentinel outside my door that I had no interest in visitors for the rest of the evening.
After all that had happened, and what I’d seen in the great hall, I didn’t trust myself to face her.
Miss Mystis caught a tie on one of her claws and brought it to her mouth to chew on it.
“I’m not the biggest fan of these dreary colors myself,” I said in agreement.
I ran a hand down her body, watching as the moonlight shone against silver-tipped fur.
Her audible purr began vibrating my legs, and when she shoved her head forward into my chest with all her might and then settled there, as if my stomach were an appropriate place to nap, I closed my eyes.
I wrapped both of my arms around the edge of Miss Mystis’ loaf, holding her against me and basking in the deep hum of her purr reverberating through my body.
It was the first moment of peace I’d had in hours, and as my stomach settled and heart rate slowed, I managed to fill my lungs with a breath.
Everything is going to be fine. If I can find calm in this moment, I can find calm anywhere.
Suddenly, Miss Mystis lunged away, landing gracefully atop my canopied bed.
She sat next to my Sentinel’s cloak with a soft meow.
I hadn’t noticed it before, and there was no reason for it to be sprawled out like that, but I couldn’t be bothered to put much thought into it.
I already missed Miss Mystis’ warmth, and my brow furrowed as I turned back to the moons carved out of the night sky.
It was easier now to spot the comets as they soared overhead, but the comfort that always eased my soul during the feast was absent.
Instead, the bud of fear and nervousness returned to my center, weeding outwards and curling around my lungs.
Shallow breaths and a quivering chin; calm had receded entirely.
I felt as though I might fall apart any moment, and it had only been a few hours since meeting my soon-to-be husband. How was I supposed to survive the rest of my life?
My head whipped in Miss Mystis’ direction as she emitted a deep yowl, a noise I had never heard her make before.
She was known for her muted nature, a personality trait I valued as I suspected that was the only reason I’d managed to keep her existence a secret.
So as she assessed me with what I interpreted to be a glare, the threat of another deep-throated meow from her still-open mouth, I stood before her with crossed arms.
“And what exactly can I do for you?” I asked.
Her head tilted to the side, as if she wasn’t interested in helping me any more than she already had.
With a sigh, I looked down at my cloak, stroking the dark grey fabric affectionately.
Had Nora had it cleaned? Perhaps she’d been informed I was leaving soon, and she wanted me to have my favorite garment ready to go should it happen at a moment’s notice.
I had every intention of being very cross with her next we spoke, but the thought did thaw my ire slightly.
Miss Mystis pawed at the hood. It seemed I was taking entirely too long to receive her message.
“I’m not quite sure what you want from me,” I admitted, snatching it up and retreating to my cupboard.
I swung the door open and thrust my cloak onto an available copper hook.
What I hadn’t expected was a soft thunk.
With a furrowed brow, I cast a glance back at Miss Mystis, who surveyed me expectantly.
“Did you put something in here?” I teased. She stared blankly in response.
I reached down and groped around the pockets until I found the culprit, clasping not one, but two hard objects that felt cool to the touch.
I stepped forward to open my palm in the moonlight, only to find my mother’s moonstone pin resting gently against Rowland’s poppy brooch.
The pace of my heart quickened. Had Anise done this?
Or had someone else been in my chambers?
I cast an uneasy glance at Miss Mystis, but she was already on the move, settling innocently on the stone seat of my window.
Her tail flicked back and forth as her emerald green eyes met my gaze.
With a deep inhale that didn’t quite reach the recesses of my lungs, I pocketed the ruby brooch.
As much as I wanted to chuck it out the window, its unexpected appearance in my cloak made me hesitate.
Maybe I should just toss it into the Threshold instead.
The idea prompted a weak smirk before transforming into a daydream.
Perhaps the brooch was priced beyond reason, and I could notify Rowland of its new home in those murky shadows.
Given Hollowmire’s distance from Grenythwood, there was a chance they were without the horror stories of the Threshold—he might cross without a moment’s hesitation and be rendered Vacant upon attempting to return. If only.
In that moment, the moonlight shifted and caught the moonstone of my mother’s cloak pin.
Beneath the surface of the gem, a bright blue sheen transformed its usually transparent color.
The phenomenon was transfixing. Absently, I rubbed my thumb over the bird Bjorn had identified for me earlier in the day. A snowpetal.
“You should keep it with you, at all times.”
Had the King’s Scholar been in my chambers? Was it he who laid out my cloak, pocketed these two items, and somehow colluded with my cat to bring them to my attention? The thought was ridiculous, and yet I continued to entertain it. What else had Bjorn said?
“You, of all people, cannot cross the Threshold.”
Why me, of all people? Was there some reason I might be particularly susceptible to its power, or whatever lay beyond?
“…it is not a safe place. Not for any Lunamorian.”
But I wasn’t just any Lunamorian, was I?
Blood of Sor flowed through my veins, bleaching my hair and brightening my light blue eyes.
Perhaps I was capable of things that Lunamorians were not—but Bjorn was the authority on Soran capabilities, so it would be foolish to ignore his warning, wouldn’t it?
“If you do, you will not return unmarred."
What if I had no intention of returning at all?
I locked eyes with Miss Mystis where she sat, her tail sweeping behind her.
Her purr had been calming enough to lull me just shy of panic, and I could think more clearly as a result.
Bjorn had probably spoken the truth. After all, Vicar returned to Lunamor memoryless and quickly died thereafter.
But the alternative was Hollowmire and Rowland.
What were the odds I would make it through that unmarred?
“Perhaps he felt that whatever they might experience in Grenythwood would be… preferable, to what the king might do.”
Wouldn’t that same sentiment apply to me?
I turned the words over in my mind as I stared at the cloak pin in my hand. I continued thumbing the snowpetal gently. Bjorn was the King’s Scholar, a Scholar of Sor, and his utterances were always purposeful—but maybe I had extracted the wrong meaning from them entirely.
Suddenly, a weight lifted from my shoulders, and fear melted away. There was lightness in my face, in my breath, and a faint tingling in my limbs.
Cross if necessary.
Who knew what might befall me across the Threshold? Maybe there would be injury, or terror, or death. But that was no different from returning to Hollowmire with Rowland. And would Vicar really have written those words to his wife if there wasn’t the possibility of something better beyond the fog?
I clasped my mother’s cloak pin, casting a quick glance around the expanse of my bedchamber.
I noted the off-Lunamor coloring that I had chosen myself, and the four-poster bed that had been carved for me.
I tried to memorize the intricately designed cupboard where I stored my most precious garments, and the silks Nora had draped across my wall.
Her voice sounded, as though it were yesterday—“We need to brighten this place up! You’ve not been whisked off to Hollowmire yet, after all. ”