48. Harlow
HARLOW
T he moment I step back into my bedroom after dinner, I’m aware that I’m not alone.
Henry has been gone for hours, and I know it’s not him rifling through the closet.
Gaven still isn’t back from his single-minded mission of finally figuring out what’s in the recovery room, and Kyrin has been out hunting all day. I’m on my own, and I immediately regret agreeing to stay inside until Henry was finished with the hunt ceremony.
I strain to listen. Dread settles in my stomach, churning up my dinner. The room is dark except for the freshly stoked fireplace. Nothing appears out of place.
The rustling in the closet continues.
I place the book I just borrowed from the library gently on my bed and remove the poker from beside the fireplace as quietly as possible. Tiptoeing to my closet, I peek around the corner.
The noise continues from beyond the adjoining bathroom, but I can’t see anyone. I walk through the bathroom and pause at the door to Henry’s closet.
The safe room door is open, and the sound is coming from inside.
I spring forward, brandishing the poker like a sword .
But it’s not Stefan or one of his friends lurking inside. It’s my maid. Cora’s trembling hands are raised in surrender.
I stare at her, trying to figure out how she is in a room that’s supposed to be spelled so only I can enter.
“I’m so sorry to frighten you, miss,” Cora says. “Mr. Havenwood asked me to clean the whole suite, and he said that if you weren’t here, you were probably in the library. I certainly didn’t mean to give you such a fright.”
“How did you get in?” I ask. “This is my safe room. It’s supposed to be spelled so that only I can use it.”
Cora’s brow furrows in confusion, and then she smiles. “Oh no, miss. You must have misunderstood. The room isn’t spelled for a specific person. This room keeps out the bloodthirsty. No Returned allowed.”
The whole world tilts. The only thing keeping me on my feet is a lifetime of dealing with these sudden surges of adrenaline. Every nerve in my body is screaming to run, but this is not my home. I don’t know every alley and passageway in the fort. All I know are two ways out.
Trying to make it to the main gates and then through them without any sort of diversion is borderline impossible.
I haven’t been here long enough for Henry to teach me the intricacies of their escape routes and evacuation plans.
I only have what I absorbed on my run with him.
And that doesn’t even take into account the fact that I’d then have to race through the Drained Wood alone at night.
I have to take my chances with the mountain caves. I don’t know where they dump out, but it has to be somewhere that I can find help, and I’m almost certain it’s not going to lead me out into a forest full of Drained.
Cora is still staring at me, her hands up in surrender. I need to be careful not to tip anyone off.
“Divine forgive me! I’m so sorry for scaring you,” I say, forcing false joviality into my voice. “I completely misunderstood when he described the room to me. I thought because of the blood lock that only I could get in.”
Cora relaxes and holds up her bloody pointer finger.
“Oh, that’s an easy mistake to make. There are a few of them around the manor.
The lock works for any of us who aren’t the Returned.
Sometimes they get carried away when they’re feeding.
Most of it is really well-monitored in the recovery room.
There are guards who are responsible for watching feedings to make sure donors are safe, but you know how it is,” Cora says conspiratorially.
“Sometimes when they feed in private—during more intimate moments, things can get a bit out of hand. Carter and Bryce have never had that issue, though—I’m sure you’ve seen.
And from what I’ve heard, Henry has impeccable control, so I’m sure he just gave you this room so you’d feel safe.
Not to mention that if there was another attack and breach of the wall, you would be able to hide in here and be safe from the Drained. ”
She looks at me expectantly, and I realize I’ve been silent for too long.
“That makes sense. I think it’s just the terminology that throws me. I didn’t know about the Returned until I got here,” I say, forcing lightness into my voice.
Cora smacks a hand to her head. “Of course. You’re from the city, so you’re more familiar with the old term. You probably call them Deathless.”
The Returned are Deathless . She means all the people Evangeline Havenwood brought back to life are like the people from the story I heard at the Raining Star Bar.
My heart is pounding so hard, I’m worried she’ll hear it.
“Of course.” I smile brightly. “So this room will keep out Henry and Carter and Bryce.”
She nods and lowers her hands. “And lots more of them.”
I grip the poker in my hands tighter, fighting the urge to ask just how many blood thirsty predators I have been casually interacting with since coming to the fort.
“Well, I apologize again for frightening you, Cora. I think I’ll treat myself to a stroll through the gallery, so I’ll leave you to your cleaning. ”
She smiles. “Of course. You’ve had so much to learn in your new role married to the heir. I’m always happy to answer any questions.” She turns to her bucket of water and starts to wipe down the door handle.
I walk back into my bedroom with my heartbeat swooshing in my ears.
Run . The instinct is so strong, I can think of nothing but that. Run . But I can’t just sprint. It will attract too much attention. I need to go slowly and be smart.
I reach for my coat, then realize that wearing it will tip off anyone who sees me that I’m planning to go outside. It’s best to just go as I am. I take a moment to swap my silk slippers for boots and tuck my blade into my right boot.
When I poke my head out of my room, Gaven is still not back from his snooping. I don’t want to leave him behind, but if I start poking around the recovery room looking for him, I know I’ll at least run into the guards there. Now that I know what goes on in there, I’m less inclined to explore.
I hustle down the hallway and descend the back stairwell to the first floor. If I go out the doors in the art wing, I’ll be closest to the cave entrance, but I’ll still have to sprint a couple of miles. With this much adrenaline pumping through my blood, that won’t be a problem.
The Kennymyra sculptures loom in the shadows. Their veils are back tonight, and they rustle as I walk briskly down the hall toward freedom. Just as the courtyard exit comes into sight, I hear voices from around the corner.
The gallery is the only door between me and my escape. I press my finger to the lock, and it clicks open. I duck inside and close the door, glimpsing the shifting painting across from the doorway in the second before it closes.
Backing into the room, I listen to the voices grow louder. Footsteps echo on the stone floor. Immediately, I recognize Henry’s voice. I hold my breath, watching as the shadows pass in the crack beneath the door.
I don’t allow myself to breathe again until a full minute after the hall has fallen silent.
The gallery is almost fully dark. The only light comes from pillar candles on a table a few feet in front of the gallery wall. In the dim light, the shifting paintings feel menacing. I turn and walk back to the door, pressing an ear against the wood to listen.
The second my ear presses flush, the wooden door draws away.
I nearly fall into the hallway, but Henry catches my arm.
He’s changed into sleek black pants and a dark red button-down. His hair is damp, hanging over his forehead. What was he doing that he needed to bathe after? Did he participate in the hunt?
I search for some sign of the monster within. When he grins, there’s no flash of sharp teeth, just the handsome, easy smile of the best liar I’ve ever met .
He looks at me and then over my shoulder into the gallery. “What are you doing here?”
My mouth goes so dry, and my brain bounces between explanations, all of them sounding too stiff in my head. “You told me to entertain myself until you came back. I stayed inside. What are you doing here?”
He steps into the room, ushering me inside with him. “I smelled you.”
“Smelled me?” My blood. He smelled my blood on the lock because I’m an idiot who didn’t wipe it clean.
Now I’m stuck. I have to stay. I have to pretend.
A cold sweat breaks out on my skin. I just need to calm down and it will be fine. He doesn’t know anything.
“It’s very dark for looking at art,” Henry says.
“That’s why I was leaving. I couldn’t find any more candles.”
He eyes me suspiciously, then crosses the room to a basket tucked into the far corner of the space. He pulls out a few more pillars, lights them using the existing flames, and places them on the table beside the others.
I have no choice but to step up beside him and look at the art. Immediately, it begins to shift. I try hard to steady myself. To force my mind to anger, or calm, or anything but fear.
My heart is pounding so hard, I feel faint. He can probably see my heartbeat pulsing in my neck. It’s probably making him hungry.
Bleeding woods! I need to calm down and get him to go away.
I need a head start. In any other circumstances, I might try to play along for the night and sneak out next time he steps away for some official business.
But I’m too jumpy and agitated, and he will know that something is off if I can’t get rid of him.
For years, I’ve trained myself to appear okay in impossible circumstances, but every bit of that training fails me now. I cannot master myself standing next to a man who wants to drink me dry.
“Harlow.”
He knows. I can tell from the overly calm way that he says my name. I don’t know how he’s figured it out until I glance up at the painting again. The frame in front of us has shifted into something that looks like a set of vicious teeth.
I finally meet his eyes .
“You know.”
He lunges for me, but I duck and swipe the blade from my boot. All I have is speed and the element of surprise.
When he comes at me again, it’s the reflex of a lifetime of training with Gaven that helps me deflect his attempt to grab my arm. I plunge my blade between his ribs.
There’s a reason I don’t kill this way. The sickening feeling of my metal sliding through his flesh, of my hand pulling it free as blood pours from the wound—that feeling makes my stomach lurch, but I do it again for good measure.
Then, I turn and run. The last sound I hear before I slip out of the gallery is the sound of Henry’s body hitting the floor.