Chapter 9 Bravery Undone #3
“Nurse told me to run,” she continued, her eyes wide and earnest. “And then the man came, and—“ Her voice faltered, small hands clutching at my robe. “I ran like she said. I remembered our hiding place.”
“You did exactly right,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Exactly right.”
I stood with Lysa in my arms, her slight weight a precious burden. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, clinging like a small monkey. Her body trembled against mine, the delayed shock of what she’d witnessed beginning to take hold.
“Where’s Papa?” she asked. “And Mama? And Delia?”
I hesitated. How could I explain that her mother had saved herself and abandoned her youngest child to fate? That Cordelia’s concern had been for herself alone?
“They’re hiding, too,” I said finally. “But we need to find somewhere safer for you.”
Lysa nodded against my shoulder, trusting me completely. I could not, would not, fail her again.
I peered out into the nursery, then the corridor beyond. The palace remained unnervingly quiet, but I knew it was the silence of occupation, not abandonment. Valen’s men would be securing their conquest, seizing valuables, taking stock of captives. We had little time.
“We have to be very quiet now,” I whispered to Lysa. “Like shadows. Can you be a shadow with me?”
She nodded, her small face serious. “I can be the best shadow.”
“That’s my brave girl.”
I set out with Lysa in my arms, my bare feet padding silently over stone that felt like ice against my skin. Now, with Lysa’s safety at stake, such comforts seemed laughably trivial.
We moved through the darkened palace like wraiths, pausing at each corner to listen for approaching footsteps.
Twice we ducked into alcoves to avoid Nocthari patrols.
Once, we hid behind a great wooden chest as a group of servants was marched past, hands bound, eyes downcast. I recognized a kitchen maid, a chamberlain, a laundress who had sometimes slipped sweets to Lysa.
Their faces were blank with shock, their futures uncertain.
Lysa buried her face against my neck, her breath warm and quick against my skin. I stroked her back, a silent reassurance that felt hollow even as I offered it. What comfort could I truly give when my own husband had wrought this destruction?
We needed to reach the stables. If any place might offer a means of escape, it would be there. And if fortune favored us, Isolde might be there as well.
“We’re going to find Lady Isolde,” I murmured as we descended a narrow servants’ stair that would lead us closer to the outer courtyards. “She is going to take you somewhere safe.”
Lysa’s arms tightened around my neck. “You’re coming too?”
I hesitated. “I’ll try, little one.”
It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. I would join them if I could. But even as the thought formed, I knew the truth. Valen would hunt me to the ends of the earth. I was his wife now, his possession, his conquest made flesh. If I fled, he would pursue, and anyone with me would suffer his wrath.
But Lysa might escape if I didn’t burden her flight with my presence. Valen wanted the kingdom, and if he had me, maybe he would overlook the three-year-old who fled. With just Isolde, she might reach safety, even find sanctuary with one of Vareth’s allies, if any remained.
But if I joined, none would take them. It would be a death sentence to house the fleeing wife of Nocthar’s King.
We reached the small door that led to the kitchen gardens, and beyond them, the stables.
I eased it open, relieved to find the latch unbroken.
Outside, the night air carried the scent of smoke and something worse—the charnel reek of death.
Flames licked at portions of the palace roof, sending plumes of black smoke to obscure the stars.
But the gardens themselves were quiet, apparently overlooked in the first wave of violence.
I hurried through them, keeping to the shadows of fruit trees and tall hedges.
Lysa was silent in my arms, her small body tense with fear or cold or both.
The stables loomed ahead, their bulk a darker shadow against the night sky.
No light showed from within. Perhaps the Nocthari hadn’t reached this far yet.
We were halfway across the open space between the last of the garden hedges and the stable doors when a figure emerged from the darkness ahead.
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. There was nowhere to hide, no cover to seek.
I tightened my grip on Lysa, preparing to run, to fight, to do whatever necessary to keep her safe.
The figure moved closer, swift and purposeful. A woman, I realized, her cloak billowing behind her like dark wings. A familiar face emerged from the hood’s shadow, drawn with worry but achingly welcome.
“Isolde,” I breathed, relief making my knees weak.
She stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her mouth. “Mireille? Oh, thank the gods.”
We collided in the middle ground, Isolde’s arms encircling both Lysa and me in a fierce embrace that spoke of fear and relief mingled into one overwhelming emotion. She pulled back, her gray-green eyes scanning my face, taking in my disheveled appearance, the stark terror I couldn’t hide.
“I was with Tomas when I heard the commotion,” she said, her voice low and panicked. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The palace is overrun with Nocthari soldiers. They’re saying the king has been captured, that—“
“I know,” I cut her off, conscious of Lysa’s attentive ears. “Isolde, you have to get her out of here. Now. Take her far from Vareth.”
Isolde’s gaze fell to Lysa, who merely clung to me tighter. “Of course,” she said without hesitation. “Tomas has the horses ready. We were praying we would find you.”
“Just Lysa,” I insisted. “I can’t go with you.”
Her head snapped toward me. “No. Mireille, don’t be absurd. You can’t stay here—“
“I have to.” I gripped her wrist, hard. “Valen will hunt me. He’ll never stop. But Lysa—“ I looked down at my sister curled into my chest. “She’s just a child. She might escape his notice if she’s with you. You can pass as mother and daughter. Find sanctuary in Eastmark, or beyond the mountains.”
Isolde’s lips parted, face crumpling with understanding. “You’re going back to him. After what he’s done.”
“I have no choice,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue. “He’s my husband. And as long as he has me, he might not look too hard for you.”
“He’ll kill you,” she whispered.
I shook my head. “No. He could have done that already. He wants me alive.” For reasons I still didn’t fully understand. Reasons that made my skin crawl when I remembered the hunger in his eyes, the possessive grip of his hands.
Lysa stirred in my arms, her small face turning up to mine. “Miri? Are you not coming?”
I knelt, setting her gently down but keeping my arms wrapped around her. Her warmth, her scent, the softness of her hair—I pressed them all deep into my memory, desperate to anchor this moment in a place where time could not touch it.
“I’m sorry, little one,” I said, forcing a smile. “But Lady Isolde is going to take you on an adventure. You’ll ride horses and see mountains, and eat berries till your fingers turn red.”
“I want to stay with you,” she said, her lower lip trembling.
“I know,” I choked. “And I want nothing more than to stay with you. But sometimes...” I swallowed hard, willing my composure to hold. “Sometimes we have to be brave and do hard things.”
“Like hiding from the bad men?”
“Yes,” I said, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. “Exactly like that. You were so brave, and now I need you to be brave for a bit longer. Until I can come for you. Can you do that for me?”
She hesitated as new tears trailed down her cheeks. “You promise? You promise you’ll come?”
My heart shattered, but I forced a smile over the jagged pieces, wiping the tears from her skin. “I promise.”
She stared up at me with eyes too wise for three years old. Too sharp, as if she knew what I wasn’t saying. Slowly, she lifted her hand, her little finger pointed toward me. “Pinky promise?”
The smile slid from my face, and I felt something fracture within me. Something I knew, with certainty, would never be repaired. Still, I curled my pinky around hers, sealing a vow I knew I couldn’t keep. Not in this life.
She nodded solemnly, and she whispered so quietly I almost missed it.
“Pinky promises always come true.”
Pulling her close so she couldn’t see my tears, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough to memorize the feel of her.
Then I handed her to Isolde, who gathered her close with a gentle firmness that reassured me even as it broke me further.
Our eyes met—hers full of sorrow, mine full of surrender.
“Flee Vareth immediately,” I told her. “Don’t look back.”
Isolde nodded, tears streaming freely down her face. “I’ll protect her with my life.”
“I know you will.” I squeezed her hand.
A muffled shout from the palace reminded us of the precariousness of our position. Isolde glanced toward the sound, then back at me.
“There’s still time,” she said. “Come with us. Please.”
For a moment, I wavered. The thought of freedom, of escape from Valen, from the horror he had unleashed, was so, so tempting. But then I imagined him hunting us, his fury when he found us, what he might do to Lysa and Isolde to punish me.
“Go,” I said, standing and stepping back. “Now.”
Isolde held my gaze for one more heartbeat, then nodded. “May the gods protect you, Mireille.”
“And you,” I whispered back.
I watched as she lifted Lysa into her arms and ran toward the stables, where her lover waited with horses that might carry them to safety. At the door, Isolde paused and looked back. I raised my hand in farewell, forcing myself to remain standing, to appear stronger than I felt.
Lysa’s small face peered over Isolde’s shoulder, her tearful eyes locked on mine until they disappeared into the darkness of the stable.
A moment later, I heard the soft thud of hoofbeats on packed earth, muffled by cloth wrapped around the horses’ feet, a trick Isolde’s lover must have learned in his youth.
Only when I was certain they were safely away did I allow myself to sink to my knees, the wet ground seeping through the thin silk of my robe. Tears I had held back for Lysa’s sake now flowed in rivers down my cheeks.
I had done all I could for them. Now I had to face what remained of my life, the husband who had destroyed everything in a single night of betrayal.
I rose on shaking legs, my tears drying as quickly as they came, and turned back toward the palace, toward Valen.
Each step felt like moving through deep water, my body rebelling against the direction my mind had chosen.
But I forced myself onward, back toward the monster I had married, the man who now held the fate of whatever remained of Vareth in his blood-stained hands.
I would face him not as the trembling bride who had succumbed to his touch, but as a daughter of Vareth. One with ice in her veins and vengeance in her heart.
If I could not escape him, I would find another way to survive. I would become whatever I needed to be, and one day, I would make him pay for what he had done.