CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN #3
That crazed smile managed to elongate, almost cutting Gavner’s face entirely in half.
“So quiet. I imagine, then, that there are no objections to my making an exception on Master Milo’s behalf?
After all, it’s an honor to sacrifice for Naeno.
Why should one measly season hold him back from greatness? ”
Not Milo. It couldn’t be Milo.
So much for my resilience, as it was already failing me.
I needed to move. I needed to convince my legs that walking was the right thing to do.
I would stride right into that pit, and—depths, I would offer myself as a sacrifice if I had to.
If there was no other option. I could do it. I would do it.
Just as I bent my knee with every intention of taking a step forward, someone clasped my hand. If it weren’t for the suffocating atmosphere, I might have wrenched my grasp free, but instead, I ever-so-slightly tilted my head to see who had reached for me.
It was the tall woman who had been speaking of Gavner with her friend outside the Ugly Tankard. She wore the same black cloak with its fur lining, or else I might not have recognized her. When I tried to withdraw my hand, she gave it a warning squeeze before releasing me.
No words were spoken, and yet her message was clear: Don't.
I realized now that I was shaking. I had been moments away from offering myself in Milo’s place when I had no concept of what was occurring before me.
I really should have stayed in my bedchamber.
I was in the middle of contemplating whether or not I could sneak away from this stressful spectacle when Gavner whistled into the night air, holding the high-pitched note for far too long.
Slight bouts of noise and movement peppered the crowd as he whistled.
A nearby villager choked back a sob. A woman threw her hand over her mouth.
A young girl buried her face in her father’s cloak.
And the woman from before, the one whose shrill voice had signaled our arrival, she and her companions a few strides off from Gavner snickered into the night air, their expressions twisted with glee.
Just like that, his whistle came to an end.
Gavner parted his lips to speak, that ever-present smile never quite reaching his eyes as he crooned, “It’s settled, then!
Tonight will be very special indeed, for Naeno’s sacrifice will not be tainted by shadowed blood.
Instead, she will enjoy a Videan feast! Please join me in—”
The world around me seemed to slow as Vayen lunged forward, her whole body flexing with the motion as a guttural noise escaped her taut throat through bared teeth. In her palm, a thin sliver of metal flashed beneath the moonlight. A dagger she had concealed until now.
She managed three leaping strides before Gavner extended his palm violently, Vayen’s body crumpling to the forest floor.
I shoved villagers aside to press forward, the sudden galloping of my heart deafening the crowd’s collective gasp.
This time, no one tried to stop me as I made my way to the front of the onlookers.
I could now watch in horror as Vayen writhed on the ground, her mouth agape in a silent scream.
Those deep brown eyes were wild and unseeing, trapped in a torture that none of us were privy to.
Gavner’s palm remained extended, that black orb resting there. He gazed at it in awe, that rotten smile of his melting into a thin line as he remained transfixed with the silver smoke that swirled in its center. His singular focus could only mean one thing—the orb was the object harming Vayen.
Milo’s earsplitting scream sliced through the cool night air as he threw his body on top of Vayen’s. He tried to pull at her vest, but Berig was too fast, yanking the boy away from his cousin and pulling him back to Catrin.
Catrin extended her arms and drew Milo into them, holding him tightly as he fought to return to Vayen’s side. Silent tears crept down her face.
There was nothing any of us could do, of that I was certain.
So we watched in collective horror as Vayen struggled on the ground, fighting a silent battle.
When her body seized, blood flowed. From her ears, her nose.
Even her petrified eyes grew red-rimmed, more blood threatening to spill. How much longer could she last?
Suddenly, the woman at Gavner’s side reached out a steady hand, placing it on his thigh without lifting her head.
Gavner’s transfixed attention wavered. He tilted his chin in her direction, black eyes softening as his brows met in the middle—an expression reserved for wounded animals and suffering children.
The condescending quirk of his lips accompanied a soft sigh.
“As you wish, my love.” Gavner closed his fingers around the black mist orb, and just like that, Vayen’s body went limp on the ground.
The woman’s hand returned to her lap. Whoever she was, and whatever her connection to that evil, putrid man, I would pray to the stars on her behalf.
Gavner tutted with exaggerated sympathy. “Ah, that’s… unfortunate.” His mouth curled into a sneer I wished I could strike him for. “If Vayen’s incapacitated…”
Vayen’s limbs twitched on the ground. A groan bubbled from her throat as she pressed the top half of her body from the forest floor, blood and saliva and sweat causing the dirt to cake on her face.
The wince that screwed up her features pummeled my heart.
She pushed herself to her knees, chest heaving with each pained exertion.
“Look at that,” Gavner mused, languidly lounging in his pathetic excuse for a throne. “You’re a tough bitch, I’ll give you that. First time someone’s remained conscious. Isn’t that right?”
The group who seemed to have arrived with Gavner dropped their heads when he threw that last comment their way; apparently they were less than keen to draw his attention, too.
The villagers had once again fallen silent, save for Milo’s persistent cries muffled by Catrin’s skirts. She protectively ran her palm down the back of his head, over and over again, fingers combing through wavy hair.
“It’s been a long time since someone challenged me.
” Gavner twirled the orb of mist in his hand, lips pursing as though he were contemplating something.
“I commend you, Vayen. You’ve reminded everyone here who has Naeno’s favor—a truth that cannot be reiterated enough.
Perhaps you were compelled to behave so recklessly for that very reason!
Still, I find myself perplexed. You attack me, as though any of this were my fault.
As though Milo’s blood, if it were to spill this very night, would be forfeit by my own hand—by my own treason.
” Gavner’s composed facade slipped as he spat out the final word.
“But it is you who necessitates the blood pit. Never forget. Unless…”
Gavner lifted his hairless brow as he inclined his head with a would-be hopeful expression.
“Has the bitch decided to submit? To free her people from the exile she has forced upon them?” And then, to Vayen, “Are you ready to recognize your master? …Your king?”
The silence of the wood spread like a disease.
It took only the slightest glance at Vayen’s bloody, downcast features to know she would not be answering him.
Nor would Berig, with his flexing muscles and working jaw.
I watched, helpless, as those I had grown to care for struggled to remain upright.
Catrin’s trembling knees, Milo’s pinched shoulders and small hands gripping her skirts.
Was it truly within Vayen’s power to end all of this?
Gavner loosed a performative sigh. “All things considered, I suspected as much. Fortunately for you, I have benevolently decided to forgive your childish outburst. Since no harm befell me or my beloved wife, I am inclined to accept Berig’s sacrifice.
Milo shall have the upcoming two seasons to prepare for Naeno’s offering.
But be warned, boy.” Gavner’s crazed eyes locked on Milo, whose body shook violently.
“Your blood will spill when the time comes.”
As though he had declared something innocuous, Gavner inhaled sharply and clasped his hands together once more.
He was giddy as he exclaimed, “Where was I? Yes, I remember now.” He cleared his throat dramatically before continuing.
“Please join me in welcoming our sacrifices to the blood pit. Vayen Videa and Berig Oribar—may Naeno bless you both. You may begin.”
That charged silence, thickening once more. Even Milo’s sobs had quieted, though he still hid his face from what would come next.
Vayen had yet to catch her breath, her lowered head bobbing rhythmically with each inhale and exhale.
Sweat flattened the curls now clinging to her forehead.
Her deep golden skin, bathed in fire and moonlight, now held a sickly sheen.
Without prompting, she peered up at Berig, that burst of emerald in her red-rimmed eyes swallowed by blackness as she nodded his way.
Berig breathed quickly, two sharp inhales preceding pursed-lip exhales, in a nervous rhythm that tightened my stomach.
Then, in an act that I found entirely incomprehensible, he reared back his thick, bulging arm before launching his fist towards her face.
With a sickening crack, Vayen’s head whipped to the side, though her body did not stumble.
The crowd erupted suddenly, and I could finally loose the scream that had been clawing its way up my throat. In that moment, Vayen looked straight at me, and the recognition that widened her horror-stricken eyes was palpable.
Confusion displaced my horror. Vayen couldn’t possibly, and yet I had the distinct impression that she’d looked through the veil that shrouded my features. What’s more, it was my presence that seemed to disarm her.
Berig’s massive torso angled to one side as he threw his next fist directly into Vayen’s stomach.
She shook with the impact, though she still did not crumble to the ground as I would have expected.
Instead, with her back to Gavner, she cast a panicked glance into the crowd, searching for something even as Berig hurled another attack at her cheek.
Berig was a beast. A thick wall of muscle whose sheer mass dwarfed all in Grenythwood.
How in the depths was she withstanding his hits?
And why wasn’t she fighting back? Or was this the essence of the blood pit—forcing someone to pummel Vayen into a bloody pulp while the village watched?
Whatever the purpose of this display, it was sickening.
I didn’t know how much longer I could stand to watch without becoming ill myself.
Vayen’s panic only seemed to grow as Berig’s fists flew through the air, colliding with her form as if she were an immobile training target.
At this rate, she would be dead before I could sprint back to the Ugly Tankard, climb in through the window, and wipe this entire evening from my memory.
I could pretend that I had never stepped foot outside my bedchamber, and that I were none the wiser as far as the blood pit goes, just as I should have been.
Yes, I need to leave. I’m not meant to be here. I have to—
The thoughts seemed to sever themselves, along with the fear that had been consuming me, only to be overtaken by something else entirely.
The air itself had somehow… shifted. The resonant scream of the crowd echoed into the blackness of the night and yet a shield had formed around my senses.
I was here and not here all at once as the sensation of having experienced all of this before washed over me.
“Marry the Prince. Become a Hollow Queen.”
Instead of the residents of Grenythwood in my ears, I heard Father and Linus’ chorused warning. The villagers were replaced with Vacants, their saucer eyes rounding on me instead of the gruesome display before us.
Why were they looking at me?
If Gavner were to notice, he might—
But Gavner wasn’t there anymore. It was my father who sat on his simple wooden throne, dark eyes peering through me as they always did. Linus had replaced the woman by his side. Both their faces were split in half by mirrored sinister smiles that I recognized all too well.
“She will prepare you for him.”
The Threshold materialized behind Father and Linus, its gloomy haze shifting around the barred carriage that would be my prison to Hollowmire. A colossal black wolf’s den.
No, I couldn’t go back. I would never risk becoming a Vacant.
But it wasn’t truly happening. It had only been a dream.
I blinked through the confusion, my breath coming in shallow gasps as the world around me began to spin.
My nightmare preceding the Feast of Comets took place in this exact clearing, with fiendish men whose split-apart smiles had haunted me.
How had I dreamt of this before coming here?
Such a thing surely could not occur within Lunamor, and least of all to me.
I didn’t have to wonder for long, for when the fog of illusion lifted from my senses and piercing screams assaulted me from all sides, a large hand clamped over my mouth as another lifted me straight off the ground like I was weightless.
My throat constricted with a scream that no one could hear, so I began clawing at the villagers I was floating by. A fistful of cloak, someone’s wrist, a leather satchel—but all were yanked from my grasp. No one dared to help as I was dragged into the darkness.