Chapter 11
By the time Finn announces we’ve arrived, my feet are burning and my mouth is parched. Had I known how far we were traveling, I would have brought supplies—but he conveniently withheld that little detail.
“So, what now?” I ask.
“Now, we wait?” He slumps down on the ground right under a small hatch in the ceiling of the tunnel.
Uneven steps have been nailed into the wall along with two handrails on either side, leading all the way up to it.
Tori has already expressed her horror over the climb, and flashes of us climbing down the bloodhouse fill my mind.
I join Finn on the ground, groaning as I stretch the muscles in my legs.
I lean against the wall, ignoring the jagged rocks digging into my spine. Apparently, none of us cares. Tori lies back with her eyes closed, her breathing shallow enough to tell me she has already given in to sleep. Finn sits watching me.
“What?”
He shrugs.
“There’s just something about you that I’m missing. It’s like you’re always holding a dark secret that no one else knows.”
“Or maybe your nosiness just makes up ridiculous stories to fulfill its incessant need to be in other people’s business.”
He laughs before resting his head against the wall. He brushes a floppy curl out of his eyes as he stares up at the hatch. I can’t help but look around, my eyes scanning the cold tunnel encircling us in a prison of uneven cream walls. How far do these tunnels stretch?
I don’t think the boy was lying when he said they exist beneath the entire court.
Neither do I.
“How will we know when to climb up there?” I say, gesturing to the hatch he is still staring at.
A small smile curves his lips. “You’ll know. Trust me.”
I roll my eyes at his useless answer and let my eyelids fall shut. I’m never truly asleep; it’s as if I always have one foot still in the world, too afraid to fully give in to the lull of sleep and be left vulnerable.
“My great-grandfather helped build this, you know.”
My eyes snap open at his revelation.
“There’s no way you can know that. Human histories don’t go back that far.”
“Not publicly, but they exist.”
That catches my attention. I sit up a little, my guard dropping for just a second.
“Where?”
He chuckles.
“Maybe one day I’ll show you, if you stop threatening to stab me with your dagger.”
“I will if you stop being a dick.”
He laughs again. “Your ancestors fought in the war, too, you know. I had a look once. You know how my nosiness gets carried away.”
Pureblood humans very rarely meet their family members. Vampires believe such ties make us too emotional—and judging by my current circumstances, they aren’t exactly wrong.
“What did it say?” I ask a little too eagerly.
He picks up a small stone from the floor, throwing it lazily across the space, and my eyes track its every move.
“Nothing really, it was just a bunch of names, a list of who played a part in the war and the date of their birth and death. Our ancestors recorded more than we realize, and with twins being so rare, it wasn’t difficult to connect the dots and uncover who your family was.
Plus, many of the women in your line share those same strange, amber-colored eyes. ”
He watches me curiously as though he is trying to figure me out, but I look away. Since the day I was born, the color of my eyes has drawn interest. But once it was clear I was nothing more than a pureblood human, the vampires stopped caring. Thank the gods. Attention from vampires is never good.
“Francis.” My attention snaps back to Finn, and he must see the confusion there because he continues. “Your family name. It’s Francis.”
The entire world goes silent, and the edges of my eyes burn with tears.
Francis. Purebloods are never told their family names, but now I know mine, and it’s beautiful.
It’s real. It’s mine. Adina Francis. The name of my ancestors, who were brave enough to fight in a war they most likely knew they would lose.
Vampires are faster, stronger, and have far more advanced senses, not to mention the shadow magic the nobles wield.
I close my eyes, imagining their bravery as they fought against vampires for our freedom.
The only way I can fight them is by poisoning them first. Without Athriel, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
I’m glad you know it.
That was a private thought, Athriel.
There’s no such thing inside this shared space, I’m afraid.
“Are you ever going to tell me where you go when you look like that?”
I look up to find Finn watching me, a curious glint in his eyes.
“No.” I stand to my feet, eager to escape his scrutinizing gaze. Other than Cora, Willow, and Tori, there’s no one I trust enough to tell about what I can do.
Or perhaps you’re just ashamed of me, Athriel teases.
I ignore him, opting to stretch out my muscles instead, letting the aches and pains slowly melt away.
“How much further do we need to go after this?” I ask.
“We don’t,” he says. I lift my brows in confusion. “This is the end of the line for you and I, Barron. When we get the signal, your friend will go up there, and we will be heading back.”
I freeze. “What? I’m not leaving Tori.”
He shrugs. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t play games with me, Finn. I’m not leaving her side until she gets onto that wagon. When she’s safe, I’ll return.”
He presses his lips into a thin line.
“Always so damn stubborn. Well, you can do what you want, but once she’s through that hatch, I’m going home.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He rises to his feet as if bracing for an attack, unwilling to be caught on the ground. He would be right because I’m seconds away from plunging my dagger through his damn chest.
“You’ve got that murderous look in your eyes. Look, like it or not, Cora paid me to do a job, and that job was to get her to this point. I’ve done that.”
“So, if I weren’t here, you were just going to leave her to get there alone?”
“She’ll be fine, she only has to travel a few feet to board the wagon. No big deal.”
“You’re a spinle—”
A loud bang interrupts us, and my eyes go straight to the hatch. I almost think I’m going crazy until another tapping sounds against it.
“It’s the signal. She has ten minutes before the wagon leaves her. Wake her up.”
I run over to where Tori is slouched against the wall; she must be exhausted to have slept through the noise. I shake her shoulders, and she gasps.
“It’s just me,” I tell her.
The fear dissipates for a moment. “It’s time.”
She bites her lip before scrambling to her feet and hurrying in the direction of the makeshift ladder. Her fingers tense at her sides, and I know fear is stopping her from moving.
“Come on. You’ll be ok.”
She takes the first step, hauling herself up by the rails. She starts moving upwards toward the now-open hatch. As soon as she is a few steps up, I climb up behind her. I turn briefly to look at Finn.
“I knew you were a coward, but this is low, even for you.”
I don’t stop to listen to his reply. He said we have ten minutes, and at least four of them will be wasted climbing this damn thing. The cold chill of the rails presses into my fingers as I clutch tightly. This climb is near vertical, so one slip and I’ll fall. I have to keep moving.
I chance a glance up and find a hand pulling Tori through the gap, and I feel relief fill my chest. Thank the gods she made it.
Seconds later, I'm hauled through the narrow gap.
I scramble to my feet and find myself inside an old building.
More than half the roof is missing, and moss covers the inside walls that are decorated in red and brown stains.
I shiver when the cold breeze touches my neck.
The slamming of the hatch draws my attention, and I turn to find a woman covered in thick swaths of cloth, only her eyes revealed.
She seems to be working hard to conceal her identity.
“I was told there was only one transport.”
Her green eyes scan the two of us.
“There is, I’m just here to ensure she makes it in one piece.”
“The boss isn’t going to like it.”
“I don’t give a shit what your boss likes.”
She laughs at this and then shrugs her shoulders.
“Come on. Keep low and follow what I do.”
We follow silently as she weaves through fallen debris and mess.
We move forward until we are just outside the house.
The woman holds out a hand, signaling that we stop moving.
We stand statue-still as her eyes sweep over the dark stretch of tall, unkempt grass.
This is the very edge of the court, and it’s clear no one tends to it.
In the near distance, the jagged edges of the mountains rise against the sky.
From the bloodhouse, they are nothing more than faint marks, but from here, they tower over us, dividing us from the safety of the settlement.
We’re so close. I’m so used to the architecture of the bloodhouse, I forget how beautiful nature truly is.
The woman beckons us forward, dipping her hand low to the ground to tell us to crawl.
We move slowly through the tall grass, the rustling of our movement the only sound in the entire space.
We seem to be moving for what feels like forever before she finally comes to a stop.
She puts up a hand to tell us to wait before she slips free of the cover of the grass.
Tori and I exchange a look, and I can tell she’s scared.
Part of me wonders whether I should have tried harder to stop her from going through with this.
She may love the idea of living in the settlement, but her entire life is about to change, and everything she knows will be gone.
I nod in reassurance, making a promise I’m not sure I can keep.
Before I can think more about it, the woman emerges and ushers us forward. We crawl out from the safety of the grass and find ourselves in an empty space, the ground dusty and dark.
“Wait here, they should arrive any minute. And stay quiet.”
Before I can answer, she disappears into the night, leaving us to face the unknown. A twinge fills my chest as I wonder whether I can make my way back alone. Will Finn be waiting, or has he already gone?
“What do you think it will be like?” Tori’s small voice breaks me free of my onslaught of thoughts. “The settlement?”
I pause for a moment, pondering her question.
I’ve never allowed myself to truly wonder what it might be like.
Willow needs vampire venom to keep her healthy, and the settlement has none.
This is not a place for people like me, and dreaming of a freedom I will never have is foolish.
I will remain at court, serving my time like Cora. She made the sacrifice, and so will I.
“I think it will be like before the war. It will be peaceful and free.” I offer her the words she needs to hear.
I can see the doubt creeping into her eyes, and a selfish part of me wants to stomp it out and convince her everything will be ok.
I need her to do this if I have any chance of getting Willow back, but the look in her eyes…
“We can go back, if you want. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Surprise twists her features.
“No…I…I haven’t changed my mind. I want to go. I’m just…I’ll miss you and Willow. You’re the only family I’ve ever had.”
A glimmer of starlight illuminates her glistening eyes, and I feel my own start to blur.
“Perhaps I’ll join you one day,” I say. She knows it’s a lie, but we pretend it’s not because it makes saying goodbye a little less painful.
Her hand slips into mine, and I hold onto it like it’s my lifeline.
I’m never going to see her again. I know she’ll be safe and happy, but I won’t see her again.
“How will you say it happened?” she asks.
“Cora will say you tried to escape when I came to kill you, but you fell to your death from the top of the bloodhouse. There are bodies ready for the pit; she’ll use one of them.”
“Sounds like something I’d do.” Her words are a whisper in the night.
“Thank you for doing this, for being a good friend.”
The sudden crunch of wheels against gravel fills the air, and her hold on my hand tightens. A small wagon that likely holds no more than twenty people appears, covered in an old, dusty cloth. It pulls up beside us, and the man working the horse at the front jumps off.
His eyes lock onto us, his brows knitting in confusion.
“I can’t take two,” he says as soon as he comes to stand in front of us.
“I know. I’m just here to see her off.”
He dips his head in understanding before disappearing behind the back of the wagon.
I hear the tiny cry of a baby, and my head whips in its direction.
Children and babies are raised in orphanages.
I don’t remember what it’s like to be one, and I’ve never seen one.
I step forward instinctively, my curiosity getting the better of me.
A gust of wind catches the corner of the material covering the wagon, lifting it into the air for a second.
Inside, there are at least fifteen people, all huddled together in a group.
A mother clutches her weeping baby as her eyes meet mine.
A strange sensation fills my stomach, and I do not recognize it.
Do you see that?
I do.
I can’t believe there is a world where a mother gets to keep her child. It’s…
I have no words for it. My mind suddenly goes blank.
A marvel, Athriel offers.
I’m unable to take my eyes off the mother who watches me wearily.
“It’s a miracle,” Tori whispers from beside me as we both watch in awe.
“It’s time,” the man tells us once all his checks are done.
We turn to face each other, the moment so painfully final.
Tori throws her arms around me, and this time, I don’t hesitate to do the same.
I let my face sink into the crook of her neck and take in her scent one last time.
I have no idea whether we will ever see each other again, so I savor the moment.
“Promise me you’ll come one day,” she whispers, but I can’t, so I say nothing. I squeeze her tighter, a silent apology, and she answers with a sob.
“I love you, Tori.”
Her body shakes against me. “I love you to—”
“Well, isn’t this the most touching moment?”
My entire body freezes at the sound of the familiar voice. I would recognize its sharp edge anywhere.
Amabel.