Chapter Five Wren #3
Breathe, I reminded myself. Such a difficult thing to do when fear overtook you.
And yes, I was afraid now, but not of Dusk, just at being in the presence of something bigger than myself.
Not many were permitted to see the Fates up close, and I’d hidden my shock when the guard allowed me to enter.
Or I thought I had. I’d been told I was lousy at hiding my emotions by Callie many, many times.
All right, she claimed my face might as well be an open book. I supposed I should work on that.
I continued ahead, focusing on admiring the bloodred poppies until the trail yawned open, revealing a circular garden. You can do this, I repeated over and over again, my little mantra dying like a song’s ending when Dusk’s garden loomed ahead.
Brilliant yet austere arched bridges painted ivory led over several perfectly round ponds of vibrant blue, the waters dense and still.
The poppies grew like angry red walls around the perimeter, each flower swaying dreamily in the wind.
My stare moved to the center of the scene, where a grand stone pavilion stood, its edges trenchant and menacing.
I found the garden of stone and red poppies eerily beautiful in its simplicity.
With my eyes on the pavilion, I walked across the first bridge, feeling like some lost heroine wandering into a wholly separate universe. My vision swam as light and dismal shadows flitted across my eyes, and I had to grasp the rail for support every now and again to right myself.
If such tricks were meant to deter me, the most feared Fate didn’t know me at all.
By the third bridge, my sight had somewhat cleared, my eyes having grown slightly accustomed to the wavering dance of night and day.
I wished my nerves had calmed as well, but that proved an impossibility I didn’t even hope for.
Until I left the palace gates, my body would be buzzing, ready for flight.
The Fates were all-consuming, while we mere mortals were just their playthings. Prey.
I didn’t dare confuse my standing.
Stepping from the stone bridge, I hovered before the pavilion, carefully noting two cushioned chairs composed of black velvet set up to face each other.
A simple oak table sat between them, the top boasting a silver serving dish and two cups of hot tea, the steam still swirling around the rims. Beside the cups lay a single folded piece of parchment, which, of course, I ached to open.
I eyed the small initials W.H. scrawled in the center, and my curiosity rose to new heights.
Had she expected me?
Resisting the urge to rush for the paper painted with my initials, I took in the moment and smiled, thinking how ordinary sharing tea with Dusk would appear. Maybe it wouldn’t be so frightening after all.
“Hello?” I called out hesitantly, searching for the immortal. No one emerged. “I was told by the guard to come here—”
The world spun on its axis the moment I took another step.
Red.
The exact color of the poppies, small droplets stained the pristine floor beyond the entrance of the pavilion. I’d nearly missed them, so taken with the entirety of the garden’s splendor. Now they were all I saw. All I could smell and think of.
Clenching my fists, I dug my nails into my palms as I staggered closer, my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
This time, when I sucked in a deep inhale, a rush of stringent copper filled the air, the unmistakable scent of blood tainting the garden’s natural aroma.
My knees nearly buckled, yet I continued on, inch by inch, watching in horror as the speckles grew in size; like the injury had grown worse.
Around the table, behind the farthest chair, a pool of red glinted in the light.
I clutched a hand to my mouth, my silent scream dying on my lips.
Violent streaks broke up the puddle, marring the ivory flooring.
It was as if something—or someone—had been dragged across all that red.
“Dusk?” I called, needing her to reply before I began hyperventilating. I scanned the pavilion, the paths, the garden. No one was in sight. No divine being.
The earlier panic caused me to stumble as it grew, the pounding in my head and ears like the warning beats of drums.
Something bad had happened here. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that. But if the Fate had been hurt, that meant so much more than I could wrap my mind around. And if she had been attacked, was her assailant still here, watching me?
My throat closed, my breathing nothing but a wheeze. If the guards found me beside a pool of immortal blood…
I’d be the only suspect.
I jolted, jumping nearly a foot in the air when a discordant alarm blared. Soldiers. They would come storming into the garden, and they’d most assuredly accuse me. Hell, I would accuse me.
I wasn’t thinking straight when I bolted to the table and snatched the single piece of folded paper with my initials. Wasn’t thinking when I ran across the bridges and made it to the main path. But I didn’t take it—guards would be swarming it at any second.
Instead, I shoved my way through the thick leaves and brittle branches, entering a world of darkness.
Shouts rang out behind me as I ran.