Chapter 22
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule twenty-two: Think like a curtain. Act like a curtain. Be one with the curtain.
Lady Luck might finally be warming up to me.
The secret passage isn’t locked by magic.
My feet make no sound as I slip out of my room. There are no guards stationed on my floor. I assume that’s because Leon is convinced that I can’t escape my room.
I love that for me.
Sticking to the shadows, I let Cassandra’s memories guide me, her super-spy skills finally getting a chance to shine.
The gray haze that was suffocating me earlier tonight is already becoming a distant memory.
Does this mean I suffer from mood swings?
I can just imagine what Dr. Parnard would prescribe to help with my deteriorating mental health. Probably something along the lines of ‘go for a run every morning and sing Disney songs as loud as you can in the process.’ He really needs to meet Damien. They would have the bromance of the century.
The corridors stay blissfully empty until I reach the first floor. The hallway orbs are dimmed, but it’s easy to pick out the guard as he stalks down the hall with lethal intent.
The Elite guards don’t fuck around.
But neither do I.
He’s heading my way, and I slip behind one of the massive white curtains that frame floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains are made of soft, white silk.
There was nothing in my closet even close to black, so I went with another version of camouflage. The long, cream-colored silk dress isn’t too poofy and drapes lightly over my hips. Luckily for me, it’s almost the same color as the curtains.
His footsteps grow closer, and I hold my breath. I’m itching to use my new bracelet, but I don’t dare call on the scythe – not when Need apparently has a thing for hunting Reapers. Instead, I grip the dinner knife stashed in the folds of my dress.
I would really prefer not needing to kill a guard, because if I do, I’ll need to hide him, and the man is wearing a full suit of armor. That just sounds exhausting.
Oh… and because murder is probably bad.
Am I in my villain era? If I write a manifesto, I’m blaming the patriarchy for everything.
The guard never once slows his stride, and I do a mental happy dance. I’m thankful for the short time Nymara spent helping me find my way around the castle as I make my way to the East Wing.
More guards stalk the halls, but I manage to avoid them without incident.
The East Wing has multiple entrances, so I head to the one on the main floor. It’s an educated guess, since the note was pretty vague about the meeting spot.
Will the person just be standing out in the open? This seems like a terrible way to have a secret meeting.
My shoulders slump when I find the main entrance to the East Wing empty.
Maybe the person got tired of waiting? Considering I don’t have a watch, giving me a time to meet seems slightly unfair.
Not ready to give up, I pad through the corridor.
Maybe I got the wrong entrance?
Figuring it’s worth a shot, I silently make my way to the stairs, only to freeze when a dark shadow emerges from behind them. They step into the dim light, and I let out the breath I was holding.
Nymara holds a finger up to her lips before soundlessly beckoning me to follow her.
Well shit.
Is this part of her mental break? She’s had every opportunity to help me over the last two weeks and hasn’t taken it.
My anxiety grows, but I follow her anyway. It’s not like I have anything left to lose.
We end up in front of the grotesque Mortal Realm painting. I frown, really hoping this isn’t all so that she can finish her art history lesson. This time, I won’t have the patience to stay quiet instead of correcting her.
But rather than turning to look at me, she tugs on the curved metal of a sconce beside the painting. It gives, bending at an awkward angle.
I’m pretty sure she just broke it.
Yup, definitely a mental break. Should I get her a padded room?
The sound of metallic gears pulls me from my thoughts, and my jaw drops as the painting swings away from the wall, revealing a hidden passage.
Two secret passages in one night? What’s next, an underground network of tunnels that harbor a population of mole people?
Nymara turns her cold gaze to me, giving a slight jerk of her chin toward the entrance.
Acutely aware that this is probably another bad decision, I climb inside the small tunnel. Thankfully, there’s a room just a few feet ahead.
The secret room is underwhelming.
It’s a small office with shelves lining the walls, filled to the brim with textbooks. Before I can make out what subjects they’re on, Nymara steps into the room behind me.
“What the fuck took you so long?” She growls in a tone I haven’t heard from her before.
My brow lifts as I whirl around to face her. I’m too surprised by her abrupt shift in personality to be offended. “Uhm, I’ve had a night, and I–”
She makes an exasperated sound and cuts me off, “Not tonight! I tried to show you the door days ago! You said you studied history. There’s no way you didn’t know Marie Antoinette wasn’t shot in the head. I’ve been risking my neck for days trying to get you to come here!”
She’s livid.
I blink, still confused. “What are you talking about? How?”
Her glare turns scathing. “The books I gave you? They were about underdogs sparking rebellions. I even annotated the parts that had secret passages with poppies – flowers associated with war. You didn’t think that was suspicious, even when I filled the room with them?”
I gape at her, finally piecing together some of her erratic (crazy) behavior. “So… you didn’t lose your mind? You were acting really weird.”
She growls, pulling her fingers through her hair in an agitated gesture. “We were watched and listened to constantly, the moment my mother learned we left the sitting room. I was trying to tell you to come here, and every time I did, I put myself in danger.”
“So, the drawing and the drumming on the walls, that was you… helping?” I clarify, still not convinced that she’s entirely sane.
Her eyes narrow. “It was a dove, a symbol of peace, eating a snake, Sin’s symbol. It was to warn you that peace wouldn’t end well.”
She’s back to looking at me like she thinks I’m an idiot.
“It looked like a worm. No one could ever figure that out.” I huff, maybe a bit defensively.
Rolling her eyes, she throws her hands into the air, and I almost jump back, not used to her being so animated.
“Don’t you watch movies? People always pull on wall sconces to open secret doors.
And then, I thought if anything, you at least watched Harry Potter, and I started tapping the same sequence as…
” she tapers off and takes a deep inhale, fisting her hands before her.
“You know what? Never mind. You’re here now. ”
She still sounds annoyed, but she’s clearly trying to move past it.
I try to do the same. “Look, uhm, I’m sorry. I figured your mother got to you, and that you went a little crazy. To be fair, though, I wouldn’t have been able to get here any sooner, since my door is locked by magic, and I just found the secret exit.”
Nymara gives me an incredulous expression, and her eye twitches. “You’re the prophecy’s chosen one, and you’re telling me you can’t decode riddles, and it’s taken you this long to find a way out of your room?” Her whisper sounds strained, like she’d much rather be yelling.
I purse my lips at her accusation.
Rude.
Accurate, but still, rude.
Shrugging, I turn toward the books in a weak attempt to change the subject. I’m already painfully aware that I’m unqualified. But as I scan over the titles, I only get confused all over again. They’re all medical textbooks from the Mortal Realm.
“What is this place?”
Nymara moves to my side. “It’s my office. This is one of the few places in the castle where we won’t be seen or heard without the use of personal magic.”
“Okay,” I drag out the word. “So, what do you want?”
She narrows her eyes at me slightly. “What is your plan to avoid being bonded to Leon?”
Her question feels like a test. I open my mouth to say something and then close it again. My cheeks heat.
She stares at me in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? What in the Fates have you been doing this entire time?”
“I – I was looking for Irena. I was hoping I could free her.” I say in a half-hearted attempt to defend myself.
Nymara stares at me like she thinks I’m an imbecile.
Fair.
Once again, rude – but fair.
“Irena is bound by magic that is so strong, not even the combined power of the Council mages could free her. And she isn’t even in this castle anymore. They moved her the moment Sin stopped attacking the wards,” Nymara says, exasperated.
Her logical explanation takes the wind out of my sails. Of course, the Council wouldn’t want Irena here after the castle was threatened with an attack, and I vaguely remember Lilanthara mentioning something about security for a new guest.
Embarrassed, I don’t bother trying to mask my defeat. “Look, I’m trying my best. But if I take a step out of line, Need will attack my home realm and start a war with the Shadow Realm.”
Her frustration softens slightly as she considers me. “You traded your life for the lives of your friends. You know they’re protected, and yet, you’re still going along with her manipulation?”
I swallow, hugging myself. “I’m just one person. My life isn’t worth the lives of thousands.”
Instead of looking understanding, Nymara’s stare sharpens, her mismatched eyes holding mine in an unwavering stare. “But what would you risk, if she was going to hurt the one you loved most?”
Immediately, I think of Sin coming for me, only to be captured. It takes me a second to swallow back the rage that flickers to life within me.
Nymara watches me like she’s trying to search my soul, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m not going to lie.
“Everything,” I whisper, admitting the dark truth.
She nods, like my answer has sealed my fate, before reaching for a book on the shelf.
“Why?” I ask again.