Chapter 77
Mora
Three knocks clanked on wood, the sound ricocheting off the walls until they rang in Mora’s ears. She grumbled, turning in her soft nest of bedding and clinging to her pillow, Castellan groaning from his corner in the room.
The bed dipped as he sat up. “Who is it?” he mumbled with a yawn.
“Tell them to go away,” Mora hissed, cracking an eye open.
The sun clawed its way up the horizon, a swath of pinks and oranges bleeding through the night.
The birds announcing the day’s arrival, whistling their songs, much to Mora’s dismay.
“It’s too early.” Pulling the blanket over her head, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for another moment of sleep.
For one more second of bliss in her meadow.
At least her cocoon smelled of him, the soothing scent of mint caressing her skin as gently as he had moments ago.
“A missive from Eris has arrived, sir,” someone called from the other side.
The words wrapped themselves around the weighty remnants of sleep clinging to Mora’s foggy mind and tore them away. Tugging on her consciousness with a dizzying force. Mora was suddenly alert, sitting up within a breath, her dark curls a tousled mess.
Castellan jumped from the bed, red sheets slipping to the floor while his bare feet slapped on hardwood.
He didn’t bother to put on a shirt, tendrils of sunlight glistening on his stomach, playing with his fair skin and slipping over carved abs.
Mora was surprised he didn’t fall, kicking his blankets away as he all but dove for the door handle.
The young man on the other side was someone Mora didn’t recognize, though he wore the royal blue and silver of a King’s Guard. Many had joined them since they’d made Cannamar their home, thanks to Castellan sending missives to every person he could think of who might help.
Still, whenever Mora saw a King’s Guard uniform, she couldn’t help but wonder how many would have slaughtered her in her own home had they known what she was. And who among them stood by the door, listening to her begging Dother to stop, and did nothing.
Mora swallowed, not missing the way the messenger’s bright eyes widened at the sight of her nestled in her makeshift bed on the floor. He quickly looked away, extending the letter to Castellan.
“Thank you,” Castellan said, snatching the letter. He didn’t bother to look up as he backed away and closed the door. Paper crinkled while he unfolded the pages, his gray eyes darting over messy ink.
“What does it say?” Mora asked, shoving her heavy comforter aside. The cool morning air rushed over her skin, goosebumps pebbling her flesh.
It was indecent, to be in Castellan’s company in her nightdress.
Mora looked down at the off-white material, the hem gently brushing against her ankles.
It offered enough coverage, its scoop neck revealing little more than her collarbones, the area darkened and throbbing—she must have tossed and turned in her sleep, bruising it on the hard floor while imagining a different sort of cause...
one involving a certain Fae’s teeth. She grazed it with her fingers, enjoying the pleasant sting, and waited for Castellan’s answer.
Mora felt no shame being in such a state in Castellan’s presence—he’d seen her at her lowest, covered in blood and gasping for breath. The moment she’d gotten her hands on proper sleeping clothes, Mora decided she was unbothered if he saw her in them.
She was, however, bothered by his lack of response. “Castellan,” she said more sternly, making her way to him—she’d read the gods damned thing herself if she had to.
His lips thinned, brows lowering as he folded the page. “It’s time.”
That was all he offered before crossing the room to his dresser, the letter still clutched in his hand, paper bunched in a clenched fist. Even when he grabbed the metal drawer knob and tugged, he still held on, the page crinkling around the handle.
“Time for what?” Mora asked, following him, unable to take her eyes off the letter. Eris’s last words so loud in her ears, he may as well have just said them.
What had he wished to tell her? Did she want to know? Would she ever be able to look at him without seeing the reflection of a haunted woman in his eyes? A creature who couldn’t take what she desired unless it was in the safety of her own dreams?
A broken thing.
My broken thing, Dother whispered in her mind, the ghost of his fingers trailing over her collarbone. Mora froze, her breath catching, red bricks morphing to gray stone walls.
“Is something wrong?” Dother turned away from the dresser, a royal blue tunic tossed over his shoulder, broken ribs peeking out from a gaping hole in his chest. Twisting like roots snaking through his skin to reveal... nothing. Darkness. An empty socket weeping blood.
Something warm fluttered in Mora’s trembling fist, thundering along with the thrum of her pulse. Mora clenched her teeth and looked down, finding a white-knuckled grip. Her hands shaking. Blood welling around her nails.
“Mora?” Her eyes snapped back up to find Castellan—not Dother—frowning down at her. He arched a brow in question. “Are you all right?”
Shaking her head to chase away the demons, Mora stared past his shoulder to the wall, row upon row of red bricks staring back. “Yes,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head felt strange, the sway of the room coaxing bile to crawl up her throat. “What did Eris want?”
Castellan shrugged on his tunic before shoving Eris’s note in the pocket, a thunderous storm brewing in his eyes. “He found my sister. She’s in bad shape, but they’re managing as they travel north.”
A panicked flutter rattled in her chest. She knew that tone—something awful had happened. “Why not bring her here?”
Muscles feathered in his jaw. “No,” he muttered, turning back to his dresser and shoving the drawer closed. The furniture smacked against the wall, toppling a candle, broken bits of wax raining down onto the floor. His grip on the handle so tight the blood drained from his fingers.
Mora blinked. “I thought this was the safest place in Berwick?”
“For those who are hunted, yes, it is.” His voice was harsh, an edge to his tone she’d only heard once, when she eavesdropped on him and Eris.
Red stained his cheeks, his nostrils flaring.
“Can you not understand why I want Didi as far away from all this as possible?” He barely spared her a glance as he made his way to the old wooden chest by the window.
“Do you intend to send her to Eldenna?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Metal clicked as he coaxed the lock open. “I intend to create a Berwick where she is safe,” he said, pulling his baldric free. Castellan slid it over his shoulder, securing the leather in place. “Where everyone is safe,” he added, reaching for his sword.
As he secured his weapon, the polished silver scabbard gleaming so brightly it was nearly blinding, Mora worried her lip. “It’s time we take back Moldenna, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Castellan breathed. “We have a throne to claim.”
He didn’t look up when he lifted her flask from the belly of the chest. Mora stared at the glass, the space nearly foreign—Castellan hadn’t allowed her to enter it since they’d left Moldenna.
Back when all of this began. She was almost grateful, though she’d never tell him...
He was right, she needed the opportunity to be human again.
Even if it meant getting her hands bloody.
“I need one final promise from you.” Mora hated the earnestness in her voice. The hope she felt when his fingers stilled, her flask half tethered to his belt.
“And what might that be, Princess?”
“Unleash me on Moldenna. Use your final wish to tear through any standing in our way and take the Crown if you must, but please...” Her throat was thick, the memory of Imani’s lifeless body a fresh wound in her mind. There could be no more. “Take only me.”
His eyes widened. “You want me to leave all the Halflings here?”
“Yes.”
He took a moment to consider. “I’ll do it on one condition,” he said, his chin tipping up like a royal who wouldn’t be denied, his tone sure. Regal. “Convince them to destroy the bridge the moment we leave.”
Mora cringed. Without the bridge they’d all be trapped on this gods forsaken islet, stuck with the guards who’d joined their cause and the supplies they’d managed to gather.
Though, no one could come for them either...
and Mora knew what would happen if they were attacked and she wasn’t there to defend everyone.
“Okay,” she finally said, straightening her shoulders and standing taller, mirroring his stance. Pushing back against the pang of guilt punching through her. “I’ll do it.”
What other choice did she have?