Chapter 16 #2
They watch in amusement as I devour two more buns and a mountain of strawberries. From the fancy clothes to feasts like this, I am getting spoiled. But it’s the games we play in the dark that stoke my deepest appetites. With each passing night, the more I know I belong here.
I pop one more bite into my mouth and throw my hands up. “I can’t eat another. Shall we go for a walk? I fear I may have made myself sick.”
Famine laughs as he offers me his arm while Death and War lead us outside the castle.
I flinch as the icy wind whips through my hair.
It’s not as biting when I’m up on the terrace.
But as I slosh through the snow, my boots sinking with each step, the last traces of winter seem to hold us in an iron grip.
The sound of hooves pounding in the distance sends my heart racing. Conquest. I don’t like being without any of them these days. If one of them isn’t present, then we aren’t whole.
Through the frost that falls like powdered sugar, I spot him, his light-brown hair blowing wildly behind him. He gallops toward us at full speed. When he gets close enough for us to lock eyes, my stomach knots.
There’s a forceful air about him… an urgency.
Conquest yanks on the reins, bringing his horse to a complete stop. “What are you all doing out here? It’s freezing.”
“This one wanted to walk,” Famine snorts.
Conquest scans the hills behind us. “I bring news.”
A chill snakes up my back. “Oh? Do tell.”
He exchanges a knowing look between Death, Famine, and War. They communicate silently with each other. Centuries of riding together have given them a bond that can be felt in their presence.
But the longer he takes to tell us, the more my anxiety grows. “Please, what is the news?”
He sighs before dismounting. It takes only two large strides for him to reach me. “My hunt led me to the edge of the woods, near your village. The smoke has all but dissipated, leaving nothing but wood frames and charred ground.”
My heart sinks. “Is it truly gone?”
He nods and takes my hands in his. “I hid in the brush when I saw movement. There was a young woman hobbling around. She appears to be the only survivor.”
I squeeze his wrists. “What did she look like? Did you talk to her? Where did she go?”
The others surround me, concerned, as if I could break like glass at any moment.
Conquest continues, “She had a braid of strawberry blonde hair, woven together by a blue ribbon. Her eyes were the same as yours. But I couldn’t reach her before she got into the carriage.”
A wave of dizziness threatens to knock me to the ground. The ribbon I gave her. “That has to be Lucy. No one else in our village looks like that.” She’s alive… “Wait, what of the carriage?”
“I couldn’t see from my angle without being discovered. It was most likely someone traveling through and spotted the rubble. But at least you know she’s alive. And safe. She did not seem to be in distress. You no longer have to carry the burden.” Conquest nudges me forward, back toward the castle.
I nod, dumbfounded. I am pleased to hear of my sister but also more confused.
And curious as to where she went. Is she truly safe?
Will I ever see her again? I fear that I won’t.
It will have to be enough to know that she made it out alive.
I can only assume she knows that I did as well.
She must know that is why Saint Nick has burned our village to the ground.
Once back inside, Death pulls me to him in front of the blazing hearth. “Winter is almost over, my love. With spring comes new beginnings. A wilder hunt.”
“We can frolic and chase each other through these woods without threat,” Famine drawls.
I perk up at that. “You mean I’ll be able to roam farther away from the castle soon?”
War nods. “Saint Nick can’t stand the sweet brightness of springtime. He will not be a problem again until next winter.”
“And we will deal with him then,” Conquest adds. “But for now, we wait out the remaining cold weeks here, locked inside. When the first white bud of baneberry blooms near the Wishing Tree below your terrace, you will know that it’s safe to venture out.”
A fuzzy warmth fills me at the vision of dancing under sunlight while the leaves crunch underneath my bare feet. I take deep breaths, focusing on the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. I am ready to let go of the past. Lucy is alive. We both made it. That is more than I could hope for.
I pray she finds love someday and has a family of her own, far away from here. Perhaps we’ll meet again, or perhaps we won’t. But it’s enough knowing that my sweet sister was spared by the gods. I can live with that.
“I’m here,” I murmur into Death’s ear. “And I’m happy.”
He kisses my cheek. “Good.”
Famine tugs at my coat. “Now, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”
My belly flips as the four of them circle me, eyeing me hungrily. Death unties my corset, sending my gown rustling to the floor. I stand in the middle of them, naked and vulnerable.
Conquest holds up his hunting sack. “I have a gift for you.”
I take shallow breaths as War and Famine have already begun to play with my nipples. Death strokes the small of my back, his fingers inching dangerously lower. “You spoil me,” I murmur. “What have you brought me?”
He reaches into the sack and pulls out antlers from a white deer. “Your new crown.”
Those distant drums hum in my ears like a mating call. I feel the pull, the dizziness. Like a fever.
He places them on my head. “The stag gifted me with it. The gods should kneel to you.”
This is sacred. A true blessing. I run my fingers along the smooth bone. “You honor me.”
The four of them kneel at my feet. My horsemen. I hold my head high with grace, embracing who I’ve become with dignity.
I used to believe that there were only two outcomes for girls—death or servitude. But they’ve proved me wrong. Girls become women who are worthy of love and loyalty, protected by ancient rites and vows made in blood, carved in symbols of moon and stars that can never be erased.
They can also become queens. But Lucy and I have done what no other girls from our village ever have. We’ve lived.
The Wild Hunt belongs to me now. And someday, after they’ve loved me until my last breath, they will etch my words into the headstone of my grave so that I may find my way back and reemerge from it again.
For I am Imogen Bishop.
And I survived.