Chapter 17 No Escape
Castien poured over Heron’s journal. Wren watched the way he traced letters and numbers, his lips moving silently.
Occasionally, he would flip back a few pages, pause, then return to where he previously was.
He read uncommonly fast, faster than Wren, who had been told by many that she sped through tomes much quicker than average readers.
“Could I borrow some writing supplies?” Castien murmured without looking up from the book.
“Yes, choose what you would like off my desk,” Wren replied. Whatever would help him find the killer, she would give.
He stood, his eyes still trained on the journal.
Castien walked to her desk, collected a quill, ink, and stack of paper, then returned to the hearth.
Only he did not sit in the chair across from her.
Instead, he sank to the floor and spread out a series of blank papers beside Heron’s journal.
Castien dipped the quill, then the sound of the tip scratching against paper accompanied that of the crackling fire.
Wren found her eyes growing heavy. Her sleep lately had been fitful at best. Still, this was no time to rest. Even if she did not think Castien would hurt her.
He had assuaged most of her anxieties surrounding his presence in her chambers.
It was not as though he hadn’t had every opportunity to harm her already.
Each time he did not, her comfort increased.
“Your brother must have been well-trained in the skill of encoding,” Castien said.
Wren blinked a few times and stifled a yawn.
“I had not heard of such training from him. I wish he would have taught me, so I could be of more use,” Wren replied.
“Perhaps I could teach you, once we find what we are looking for,” Castien said, as if what they were looking for was a book or a quill and not a murderer.
“Perhaps,” Wren mused. He didn’t seem to catch her tone, too engrossed in his work.
Castien continued to write and whisper under his breath, while Wren struggled to stay awake. She scolded herself with every slow blink, but the solace she felt stole away her rationality. Soon enough, she closed her eyes and slipped away.
Wren pressed herself against the cold stone wall. Her chest heaved. She had been running for hours. The pain in her legs was agonizing, but she had yet to find a hiding spot that was safe for long.
The scuff of boots nearby made her heart jump into her throat.
“You cannot hide from me,” the duke crooned into the darkness. His voice was warped and deeper than usual, as if his vocal cords had rotted. “It is best if you give up. The longer you run, the worse your punishment becomes.”
Wren’s eyes stung with tears. She struggled to keep her breathing even.
An awful scraping sound came from a few feet away.
He had been dragging the tip of a dagger against the walls of the maze.
Every time she thought she was safe, she’d hear his boots or that Tides-cursed blade and she’d have to run again.
Rocks bit into her bare feet as she took a careful step away from the noise. In just her nightgown, she was freezing and ill-equipped to escape her captor.
“My sweet Wren, you know you belong with me. You and I are the same after all.”
Was his voice closer or farther away? Tears rolled down her cheeks in icy streams. She turned a corner and wiped her eyes when she saw the path was empty.
“You are tainted by the same shadows I call home. Why should you get to escape when I did not?”
Wren shook her head. She couldn’t let him get to her body or mind. If only she could find the exit.
“No one will ever want you anyway. Who wants a broken doll? Just stay here with me, and we can play forever.”
Bile rose in Wren’s throat. No. She would escape. He was wrong. But doubt started to creep in the longer she wound through the passageways. What was the point of escaping if she was destined to be alone forever?
Wren turned a corner and ran into a mass of tar and shadow. She screamed.
“I knew you’d come back to me.”
The duke’s melted face twisted into a triumphant grin. Wren turned and ran, barely escaping his grasp. Thick black sludge coated her skin where he had touched her.
Tainted. She would always be marked by him. Never clean. Never pure.
The pain in Wren’s feet was unbearable. She tripped over herself again and again.
All of her turns were erratic. There was no careful listening any longer.
She was blind with fear as she stumbled into a passage she did not remember, though they were all starting to look the same.
It seemed to be a dead end except—had she been here before?
—there was something different about the wall.
Wren catapulted herself forward, sure the monster was on her heels.
She pressed on different stones, sobbing with each echo of footfall she heard.
Finally, the stone door popped open. She ran out into the forest, breathing in the salty mist. A smile stretched her lips. She’d done it! She escaped! The duke could not leave the maze, but she had.
A figure appeared in the distance. Pale blond hair and blue eyes that matched her own.
“Heron!” Wren cried out in relief.
Her brother approached, arms outstretched. He smiled at her … revealing rows and rows of razor sharp teeth—
“Wren!”
Hands grasped her shoulders. She cried out in alarm and attacked, clawing at her assailant.
“Wren, wake up, you’ve had a night terror.” A familiar voice spoke over her.
She furrowed her brow.
“Who—what?” she rasped as she blinked open dry eyes.
A blurry figure she immediately recognized as Castien was kneeling on the floor in front of her chair. She rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of where she was.
“It was just a dream, dearest,” Castien murmured. “Are you all right?”
Wren tried to swallow but coughed as the walls of her throat stuck together. A warm cup was pressed into her hands. She lifted it to her lips and took a sip, the sweet peppermint flavor soothing her throat.
“It was just a dream.” She repeated Castien’s words.
“Yes, you’re safe.” He brushed back a lock of her hair. She looked at him, her vision now clear.
Worry lined his expression, emotion she could feel twisting inside of her now that she was fully conscious. His dark eyes flitted about her face, as if he was checking her for invisible injuries. There was a red slash across his cheek that made Wren frown.
“Your face—”
Castien shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
Wren leaned forward and grasped his chin, turning his cheek toward her for a better look.
Every muscle in Castien’s body tensed as Wren inspected the scratch mark on his skin.
A spark of heat she had not felt from Castien before surprised her.
She quickly let go. The emotion she felt was not one she was accustomed to, and she hoped it wasn’t some kind of discomfort that was her fault.
“I hurt you,” Wren whispered.
Castien gave her a soft but tight smile.
“You were afraid. And I have experienced much worse than a scratch. This is of no consequence.”
“You are upset, though. I can tell by your expression,” Wren said, certain that the heat she felt was a new sort of anger. “Do we need to have it out?”
Castien chuckled. Affection swirled with the sparks, increasing the heat in her abdomen. A blush stole across her cheekbones. Such a combination didn’t make sense. He could not be cross with her and feel this way, could he?
His eyes met hers, flecks of amber swimming in the rich brown of his irises. So strong was his affection that it stole her breath.
“No, dearest. I was worried for you, that’s all. I am glad to see you are okay. Would you like to talk about anything?”
Wren immediately shook her head. She couldn’t tell him about the duke. He would never look at her this way, feel this way toward her, if he knew the truth.
She was tainted. Shattered. Covered in shadows and blood. Not even a man who dealt in the darkness as Castien did would want her. No one wanted a broken doll.