Chapter 17
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule seventeen: Always be on the lookout for the appropriate stabby time.
There’s something wrong with Nymara.
Like… wrong-wrong.
She’s watching me, unblinking from the other side of the sitting room. There’s a Stepford wife smile plastered on her face. It’s the same one that’s been there for the last two and a half days.
Unsurprisingly, Leon left couples therapy with zero intention of following the homework or continuing with further sessions. He insisted that while therapy may help ignorant mortals, he was already so far above them that he required no improvement.
Thankfully, he magnanimously offered to give me some space, since I so clearly require self-improvement.
The space has yet to amount to any progress on my end, namely because Nymara has clearly suffered a mental break.
I lean forward, pouring myself yet another cup of tea. It’s hibiscus-flavored today.
At first, I thought her shift in personality might be because her mother punished her.
Especially since every time I ask if we can explore, she answers robotically that “it isn’t appropriate for our newest Creator to be poking around the castle like some rodent.
As the embodiment of light, you must busy yourself with appropriate tasks. ”
The words sound so much like something Need would say that I’m positive she found out about our little art tour a few days ago.
A pang of guilt unfurls in me at the possibility that I made her life worse.
The silence stretches on, and I frown at Nymara’s perma-smile.
It doesn’t falter. If anything, she looks more manic.
I could have ignored the whole ‘acting like an emotionless robot’ thing if it weren’t for the… gifts.
They started yesterday morning. First, she brought me some books, explaining she thought they would be most enlightening for me.
Excited, I immediately flipped through them. I was sure this was her way of slipping me a secret note, but no. There was nothing other than a few doodled flowers in the margins.
They’re currently sitting in the back of my wardrobe. While I appreciate the gesture, I’m currently a bit preoccupied with trying to avoid the apocalypse.
Then this morning, I entered the sitting room, only to find it overflowing with poppies. Even now, they cover every flat surface, spilling over onto some of the lounges and chairs.
When I asked her why she brought me the flowers, she shrugged and claimed they were ‘for ambience’ – like that explained everything.
She then spent at least an hour slowly walking around the room, tugging on every wall sconce. Every time she pulled on one, she turned and stared at me.
She’s definitely not okay.
Not that I’m in much better shape. The depressive haze is thicker than ever, and it presses in on me, choking me, until it feels like I’m trying to breathe through wet wool.
Nymara’s comment about unwarded parts of the castle has been haunting me. Even if I find Irena, what good would it do? I can’t even open my magically locked bedroom door. How am I supposed to break wards strong enough to hold a Destroyer?
The problem certainly hasn’t helped with my renewed depression. But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up.
If anything, I think the depression is making me more creative.
Why worry about suffering a horrible death when you’re already hurtling toward one?
It’s amazing how many more options open when you have nothing to lose. And now, thanks to that (definitely healthy) mindset, I have a plan.
I stand, heading for the door, where, as usual, a guard is stationed. “I need to use the bathroom.”
It’s the only time I’m ever let out. Otherwise, Leon picks me up at the end of the day. But even on my bathroom breaks, I’m escorted by the guard and Nymara.
The guard doesn’t answer immediately, as if considering whether he’ll allow me the privilege of relieving myself. Finally, he slams the door fully open. “Let’s go,” he snaps at Nymara.
He sounds cranky. He’s probably a little mad because I told him his fancy death maze actually has no exit, and he is living a lie.
Some people just aren’t ready for enlightenment.
Our entire floor is deserted, but I’m sandwiched between them as we make our way down the hall. At this point, I’m grateful they at least leave me alone in the washroom.
They probably assume I’m not dumb enough to try anything. We’re at least five floors up, and the smooth castle walls aren’t suited to climbing of any kind.
Luckily for me, they didn’t account for the fact that I have the survival instincts of a drunk raccoon.
Plus, I’ve come prepared.
Shutting the door, I immediately turn on the faucets, hoping the background noise will cover my next steps. I’m wearing the most poofy, hoop-skirted dress I could find. It’s a nightmare to sit down in, but I need the extra space in the skirts.
Last night, I cannibalized a few inner layers of every dress in my wardrobe to make a new braided rope. Luckily, the knife I stole at the Council dinner made my task a bit easier. Plus, today’s rope doesn’t have to be as long. I’m only looking to climb down one story.
Easy peasy.
Grinning, I tie the rope around the toilet base and open the large window. Two days ago, I started testing the windows. It turns out, only the ones in my and Leon’s rooms have been sealed shut.
Once I’ve confirmed the rope is firmly secured and reaches the window on the floor below, I start part two of my super-spy plan. Placing my palms together over my mouth, I take a deep inhale – and make a loud fart noise.
No one ever said plans needed to be sophisticated. They just need to work.
I continue making the occasional fart sound for a few more minutes before finally letting out a pained groan. “Can you please give me a bit more privacy? I can hear you breathing for goodness’ sake.”
At the sound of retreating footsteps, I launch myself over the window ledge and start climbing down to the next floor.
This time, I made sure to tie extra knots.
The rope holds.
It takes a bit of work to wiggle the next window open while holding onto the rope, but after a few tense moments, I breathe a sigh of relief and crawl through it. I fall into a bedroom.
If Lady Luck is watching, I can only hope she and I have made our peace, since it looks unused. Hopefully, my luck carries over to the next part of my plan, since this was the least risky part.
Cracking the door open, I peer into the hall, finding it empty. Voices carry up from a set of stairs, indicating I’m close to the public castle areas.
Perfect.
I keep my steps purposeful as I follow the sound. I’m hurrying, but don’t want to look out of place.
I don’t have enough time to look for Irena, since Nymara and the guard will eventually realize I’m gone and sound the alarm. Hopefully, though, I’ll be back before that happens.
One floor down, I turn a corner and find what I’m looking for. There’s a large drawing room, and dozens of well-dressed people are milling about.
I try not to draw attention to myself as I approach two women sitting on a bench nearby. They look close to my age, and they don’t see me right away, since their heads are bent as they whisper to each other.
“Good afternoon,” I say gently, not wanting to startle them.
Their eyes go wide as saucers when they look up and realize who I am. Quickly, before I chicken out, I touch each of their shoulders. It’s a light tap, and I feel ridiculous doing it. One woman starts to gasp, and I place a finger to my lips, in a silent gesture for them to stay quiet.
She clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, while the other woman remains frozen with her jaw hanging open. Tears flood their eyes.
Uncomfortable doesn’t begin to describe how I am feeling, but I give them both a serene smile. “Could you please help me reach the library? I seem to have lost my way, and I have a surprise planned for Leon.”
A few minutes later, the women are walking me to the library, telling me all about their hopes and dreams. A few other women join us along the way, and I make sure to touch each of their shoulders as a ‘blessing.’
Not a single guard stops us.
They aren’t looking for a group of women. I’m hiding in plain sight.
Once we reach the library, I thank them and note that I’ll need to be on my own now, since I’m on official wedding business. They leave, beaming, and I try to ignore the guilt that stabs at me.
I can only hope Need won’t punish them for helping me. She killed Kenzie to send a message, and it’s one I understood loud and clear. I have no allies here. She wants me isolated. But I don’t think she’ll start killing off dozens of noblewomen from her own realm.
Their voices fade, and I wait a moment longer before doubling back the way we came. I’m not here for the library, but I don’t want anyone to know my actual destination. Although I’ve only been down here once before, I think I remember the way.
If I want to look for Irena, then I need to do it at night. Seeing as my door is locked by magic, I can only assume it will take magic to unlock it.
The first time I visited this castle, I was separated from Leon and I passed a room full of colored bottles. I’m hanging this entire super-spy mission on the hope that they are magical potions, and one will be able to open locks.
I’m going to go ahead and call my plan brilliant, since it’s the best one I have.
As expected, the corridors are empty. Most of the guards I’ve seen are centered around the public areas of the castle.
Still, I try to look casual as I take quick but measured steps.
Cassandra’s memories aren’t exactly on board with my plan, but I don’t have time to go sneaking around and peering in doorways.
At the faint sound of bubbling up ahead, my heart rate starts to climb. The room must be right around the corner.
I’m going to make it.
I do not, in fact, make it. Just as I round the corner, I smash into a person on the other side.