CHAPTER FIFTEEN #3
I had never descended the wall with such speed, and for that, I paid the price.
I lost momentum at the same time my grip weakened, plummeting inelegantly into the bushes below.
I tried to roll out of the drop, but one of my boots collided with an exposed root, and I fell backwards instead with a muted grunt.
I yanked the end of the rope I still held and it tumbled down, obscured in the brush.
Without delay, I rose to my feet and broke into a run my body was no longer equipped for.
My gait swallowed the road’s width, and I dove into the ironbark forest, shielding myself from view just as the Sentinels rounded the bend.
I clutched a nearby tree before dropping into the brush in the hopes of camouflaging my presence.
Chest heaving and limbs threatening to give out, I silently cursed the stars—if only I’d been the slightest bit faster.
“Halt!” Anise’s voice tightened my throat. She brought them to the exact location she knew I would choose.
“Does anyone see her?”
“It’s still bloody dark. I can’t see a thing.”
“Perhaps one of us should check the forest—”
“She might not have made it to the wall, yet. Or perhaps Persy’s lot has already seized her.”
“No, they would have sent someone.”
“The sun is rising—we’ll spot her then.”
“No one’s on the parapet… have you been slacking on their training, Captain? They should have made it by now.”
“Silence. Keep your ears trained,” Anise said.
I peeked beyond the tree that shielded me.
Five Sentinels on horseback, hooves kicking up the dusty sediment of the road.
I spotted at least two with gazes locked on the forest’s edge.
I desperately wanted to groan, but I suppressed the urge, instead choosing to stretch out my limbs.
I was well enough in the thick not to attract attention, but not quite so hidden that I could safely advance deeper into the wood.
How on Morwyn was I going to get out of this?
It wasn’t long before the sun peeked over the horizon and plumes of dirt billowed beyond the bend, signaling an oncoming rider.
With the growing daylight, I stole glances at the road sparingly as I waited for an opportunity to escape—but it only took the slightest glimpse to spot a flowing mane of pale hair.
I dropped back into the shadows with a knitted brow.
Why would Father send the King’s Scholar to the east wall, unless Bjorn had been the one to inform on my adventures?
Bjorn was the only individual I had told, but given our interaction, I couldn’t make sense of him notifying the king.
Even less sensical was Father not punishing me the moment he learned of my transgressions, if he indeed had.
The blowing of a horn violated the serenity of the plum orchard, prompting the restlessness of my legs.
The Sentinels on foot were nearing the inner wall, and when they informed Anise that they hadn’t captured me, she would venture into the wood.
I had mere minutes before they made their way in my direction, where they would find me cowering in the slowly fading shadow of this ironbark tree.
“Damn them to the depths,” I cursed, returning to my original position.
I could not risk moving with the trained eyes of Sentinels fixed on my general location, but no other opportunity had presented itself.
Perhaps if I stayed far enough from the trail, and only maneuvered through the thickest parts of the wood, their horses could not follow?
At least, then, I might have a fighting chance.
Slowly, I peered beyond a nearby bush, hoping to see an opening—but before I knew it, my eyes connected with Bjorn’s.
I threw myself back into the shadows, pulse roaring in my ears as I began hopelessly muttering prayers to the stars.
I awaited his rousing call to the searching Sentinels who galloped up and down the road, their focus trained on the forest. But it didn’t come.
Forcing myself to steady, I leaned forward once more, catching the sparkle of Bjorn’s eye as he turned away and pointed farther down the bend.
“There! I’ve caught sight of her!” Bjorn called, his deep voice filling the silence of the crisp morning air.
Anise’s eardrum-splitting whistle sliced through Bjorn’s shout, and the horses whinnied as they were sharply redirected.
I readied myself to dash into the forest—odds be damned—when it registered that Bjorn was pointing nowhere near me. I hesitated there, holding onto the bark with sensitive palms. Was this a trick of some kind? That hardly seemed requisite, given my predicament.
Cross if necessary.
There was no time to assess Bjorn’s motives. I had to move now, or I would surely be caught and dragged back to Lunamor.
I stayed low as I pushed myself from the tree, throwing my gaze back every few steps to ensure I had not been spotted.
Due solely to Bjorn’s diversion, I managed to escape into the thicket.
It was then that I stood to my full height and broke out into a proper run, legs enjoying newfound strength after their rest.
Just a little longer now.
I can do this.
I passed through mine and Anise’s unofficial training grounds with a heavy heart.
It was less a training ground, and more an overgrown clearing within the forest that allowed her ample room to wallop me.
Father had disallowed combat training entirely when it came to my being a Sentinel, yet she had taken pity on me.
At least, that is what I had assumed at the time.
But her half-lidded gaze in the depot told another story.
I rested briefly against a tree, stealing a scant swig from my leather flask as I allowed my focus to wander.
That stubborn, half-buried rock was where I had fallen and badly bruised my hip during our first spar. It had taken quite a bit of convincing for her to return to this spot the second time.
That dark tree, the one that burst through the canopy of branches above, was where I had spent countless hours climbing up, climbing down.
“Your mind will continue to conquer you as long as you allow it, Lyssa. You must show it that there is nothing to be afraid of.” I remembered thinking the sentiment was an easy utterance for someone who feared nothing.
But more than a place of transformative growth and thrilling defiance, it was also where I had discovered the soft underbelly of a Sentinel Captain who rarely allowed others to know she had one.
I shouldn’t blame Anise for her betrayal. I knew what my father was capable of, and what she might risk by protecting me.
And yet…
A twig snapped somewhere in the distance, and once more I was on the move.
I sprinted the same way I had days prior, when stalking Sentinels was my highest priority.
Adjacent to the woodland path, but never too near—I needed ample opportunity to escape into the thicket should they overtake me.
This may have been the most efficient route to the Threshold, but I suspected that once Bjorn’s ruse wore off, it would also be the first location she would bring them.
If I had known of a different path, I would have taken it. And a while later, when I finally neared my destination and shouts in the distance sounded, I wished I’d been able to.
“These are fresh.”
“Find her!”
They were tracking me, but it was too late.
I had stopped at the very tree I had witnessed Vicar’s crossing from.
This morning, the roiling fog needed no time to thicken.
It was a dense wall, undulating in that odd way that made me wonder if it truly was fog, or if that’s merely what it wanted us to believe.
Had I gone mad? Could this really be worth the risk?
If I crossed, there was no coming back. No more Lunamor. No more Anise. No more Nora, or Tilda, or Miss Mystis. No more bickering with Linus. No more living in a castle. No more being a Treaty Princess… or a princess at all, really.
Life as I knew it would cease.
But then there was Rowland’s taunting claim over my body, and the vitriol spewing from Father’s mouth, and my resolve steeled: life as I knew it was about to cease regardless of my will.
At least this way, it would be my decision.
And as long as I vowed never to return, Vicar’s empty gaze would never mirror my own.
Alyssum the Vacant. The one fate I would not chance, if it weren’t for that damnable note.
Cross if necessary. A sentiment he wouldn’t have conveyed if there was no hope, I was certain. Vicar had given his memories, and ultimately his life, for his family. But he had offered a glimmer of something brighter on the other side of it all.
“Forward, everyone. Keep your eyes trained.” Anise’s panicked voice. “She must be close.”
It was now or never, and so I ran.
Pure energy. My heart slammed against my chest. The ache in my legs dulled.
Dead leaves, a chorus of crunching beneath my feet.
A sudden burst of strength as I hopped over the same log that had captured Vicar days prior.
The fog drew closer—were those bells echoing from within?
My eyes stung as a powerful gust of biting wind blew my hood back, exposing my hair. I couldn’t fix it now—I was too close.
“Wait—over there!”
“This way!”
“Your Highness, stop! The Threshold!”
“She’s going to cross!”
I weaved between the ironbark trees, dirt giving way to mud as I neared the wall of gloom. It was inevitable. Even if I wanted to turn back, there was nothing to turn back for. Whatever awaited me on the other side had to be better.
I’m trusting you, Vicar.
“Lyssa!”
I stopped dead in my tracks, muddy feet sliding within arm’s length of the Threshold.
My chest heaved, and I doubled over, only now noticing a trickling stream within the fog.
Even as I stood there, gasping for air, my brow furrowed.
I couldn’t make out its other end, but it was quite shallow.
If there was a body of water within the Threshold, why hadn’t Vicar’s cloak and pants been wet?
“Lyssa,” she repeated, pulling me from my trance. I righted myself with a purposeful inhale before turning towards her outstretched palms. “Please. You don’t have to do this.”
As the other Sentinels neared, I edged away until I felt the cool tendrils of fog licking my back, beckoning me into the Threshold’s gloom.
Anise shouted: “Leave us! Wait on the path.” Her voice shook, but my resolve only strengthened despite the weight settling over my chest. “Lyssa. You can’t cross,” Anise pleaded, her eyebrows upturned in apparent desperation.
“Why? Because when you drag me back to Lunamor, I’ll be rendered Vacant?”
Anise hesitated, her lips parting with an audible inhale.
“So you know,” I scoffed, shaking my head. “Of course you did. How many times have we discussed the Threshold and what lies beyond? How many times did you let me go on and on like an idiot, when you knew the truth all along?”
“No one knows the truth,” she bit back. “Some know more than others, and I know even less. What if you become Vacant the second you enter the fog? Or what if there really are demons in that forest? Are you willing to take that chance, all because—”
“Oh, please go on. I’d love to hear your gutless attempt at diminishing the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me.”
“There are terrors beyond what you know,” Anise said, her voice turning even. “Unspeakable horrors. All-consuming, never-ending fear that we don’t have the words to convey to one another. That is what you risk by crossing.”
It was clear then she hadn’t seen Vicar’s note.
I looked past her, gaze flitting to Bjorn.
He stood casually by his dappled grey stallion, observing us, expression somehow both pensive and accepting.
I raised a hand to the snowpetal on my cloak, running my fingers over my mother’s pin.
It may have been a trick of the light, but I could have sworn the corners of Bjorn’s lips pulled up into something resembling a smile.
“I daresay rebellion suits you.”
In that moment, though I wasn’t sure how, I was certain he’d known all along. Bjorn knew that I was going to cross, and he had done everything within his power to ensure it happened. Even by warning me not to.
So, I wasn’t entirely alone, then.
“Unspeakable horrors,” I repeated Anise’s words with a humorless laugh.
“All-consuming, never-ending fear? And how is that any different from what I risk by staying?” When all she offered was silence, I continued, “You made your choice when you put your duty as a Captain over me. I can’t blame you for it.
I can’t even say I wouldn’t have done the same, had your circumstances been my own. So try not to blame me.”
As realization softened her brow, she lunged forward, arm outstretched and mouth peeling open into a silent scream as I took one large step back into the Threshold.