JUST THE BEGINNING
GAbrIEL
The moment Wren passes through the doorway, I turn and slide my hand down the wall.
Finding the indent in the otherwise smooth stone, I press down.
The door slides shut, sealing us in darkness.
The blue swirl on Wren’s forehead provides some light, but even that isn’t enough to fully illuminate the passage.
“Oh, gods,” one of the twins whimpers.
“It’ll be okay, Marie,” Wren murmurs reassuringly.
She’s never directed that caring tone at me, not even on the first day we met. Watching Wren interact with her sisters is revealing a part of her that I didn’t know existed, and it intrigues me.
Wren moves closer, the glowing Mark getting brighter as she approaches. “What now, Hunter?”
Her voice has cooled, and my heart twists at the reminder of her feelings towards me. There’s no time for emotions, though. The king’s soldiers are still coming for us.
“Now, we run,” I say grimly, staring into the darkness. “Run and pray.”
I don’t think anyone else knows about this tunnel. I found it years ago by accident, when I was hiding from my father, and it seemed to have been abandoned for decades. Based on where it lets out, I think it used to be a delivery passage before it was forgotten.
Wren mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like I fucking hate running, but there’s no time to question whether I heard her correctly.
Sliding my sword into its scabbard, because the last thing we need is for someone to accidentally get skewered, I keep one hand on the wall and begin wading into the darkness.
Reaching within myself, I tug on my bond with Mist.
I’m coming, I tell her.
Our connection is stretched, but thank the suns, it’s still present. I’ll never take it for granted again. Heat engulfs my chest a moment later, confirmation that she heard me.
The Winter’s Eve Ball went nothing like I expected, and I have far more questions than answers, but two things are certain.
One: The little bird is in my possession, and this time, I won’t be letting her go.
Two: We have bigger problems than ever before.
The wrath in the king’s eyes, the way he called Wren “Blessed,” and the fury in his voice right before he left all made one thing clear: He will not give up. Not tonight, and not any time soon.
My stomach churns as we journey deeper into the darkness, and I know this is just the beginning.
We’ve been in the dark tunnel for over an hour, and our run has slowed to a jog when a faint sheen of light appears ahead, breaking through the darkness. Even though I knew it was coming, the sight is a relief.
I draw my sword and glance over my shoulder. “We’ve almost reached the end.”
We are still underground, but it feels like we’ve been walking uphill for some time. My shoulders are tense as they brush against the walls, and there’s a cramp in my neck from keeping my head bent. The sounds of those following us have long since vanished, and we are completely alone.
“Oh, thank the gods,” says one of the twins.
“I’m so tired,” replies the other. “My legs feel like they’re made of water.”
Their eagerness is echoed by my own. It’s been a long night, and the more distance we put between us and my father, the better.
The darkness slowly ebbs away until the passage opens into a small room. If I were to stretch my arms out at my sides, I’d be just short of touching both walls. The width is roughly twice as long, and the ceiling is a few inches above my head. After the tight tunnels, it feels palatial.
Two windows cut high serve the dual purpose of providing a glimpse outside and letting in the silver light of the three moons. Snow drifts gently from the sky, landing on the ground outside. The room itself is empty, save for a stack of wooden crates in the corner.
“Of course it’s snowing.” Wren stands beside me, her hands on her hips as she stares out the closest window. “The girls aren’t dressed for this.”
Neither is she.
“It might not stick around.” The winter is just beginning, and we might get away with a few more weeks without constant snowfall.
“Maybe,” she concedes. “But it’s unlikely.”
“Yes, it is.”
Wren huffs, and my lips twitch at the sound of her frustration. The same part of me that has been drawn to her since we met is pleased that we’re carrying on a semi-normal conversation, even if it’s just about the weather.
It’s small, but it feels like a step in the right direction.
“Is it just me, or are we trapped?” asks the twin I think is called Violet. I’ve tried to pay attention as the sisters speak, but it’s hard to tell the girls apart. They’re identical in every way.
“Not entirely.” I point to the rectangular iron grate cut at ground level at the other end of the small room. “That’s our way out.”
The grate doesn’t look like it was built with the rest of the room. If I had to guess, a smuggler came along later and cut into the wall, using the opening to come and go as they pleased.
“I see,” Violet says flatly as her sister yawns.
“The girls need to warm up and sleep.” Wren turns to me, her voice stern. “We can’t run again. Not right now.”
The gods-blessed’s love for her sisters is evident in both her actions and her tone, and her desire to keep them from harm is admirable. Suns, what must it be like to have such a loving sibling? Someone in your corner, who cares about you because you are family?
I wouldn’t know.
The gods only saw fit to give me my half brother, Severus, and our relationship is less than civil thanks to his close connection with our father.
The two of them are more alike than not, which is a fucking frightening thought.
I shudder to think about what will become of Myreth with Severus at its helm.
As my father’s heir and a true royal, one with magic in his veins, Severus is destined for the Ruby Throne.
My brother is second in power to the king, and he is cruel.
When I was younger, I would often see women—servants and nobles alike—crying when they left Severus’s suite.
It wasn’t until I was much older that I understood he was hurting them.
The king did not stifle Severus’s cruelty. Rather, he encouraged it. Helped it blossom and grow into something frightening. I don’t think there’s an ounce of goodness in my half brother’s body.
Even though Severus wasn’t at the Winter’s Eve Ball, I’m sure he’s close to the capital. He never strays too far from our father’s side.
Shaking my head and shoving thoughts of my awful family aside, I stride to the pile of crates near the far wall and lift the one on top. A small stack of parchment and half a stick of charcoal are resting exactly where I left them a decade ago.
I take a slip of paper and a piece of charcoal before replacing the crate. Moving to where the grate is cut into the bottom of the wall, I drop to the packed dirt serving as a floor.
“We’ll spend the day here and rest.” I stretch my legs in front of me, drawing my sword and placing it across my lap. “You three should sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
The twins sigh in relief, and it doesn’t take them long to push the crates aside and drop to the ground. They hug each other, murmuring about sharing body heat.
If I had a cloak, I’d give it to them to keep warm, but in my haste to follow the king out of the ball, I didn’t grab one. They should be warm enough for now—the suns will rise soon, and the day shouldn’t be too cold—but Wren is right, winter is setting in.
Resting my back against the wall, I settle in to begin my vigil. A forest looms outside the grate, and from here, I can see the base of the trees as well as the tunnel entrance that led us here.
I won’t be sleeping today. Not with all these threats hanging over my head. Thank the suns I’m used to staying awake for extended periods of time, since it’s often required on a hunt.
A whisper of fabric comes from beside me, and I look over.
“Thank you, Gabriel.” Wren is crouched to my left, wringing her hands.
“I’m not sure . . . if you feel this . .
. and that’s why . . .” She shivers, looking away for a moment before returning her eyes to me.
“Just . . . thank you. For getting us away from the soldiers, and for leading us through the tunnels.”
I study her for a long moment, this gods-blessed who has caused me so much trouble, before I dip my head. “You’re welcome, Wren.”
Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth for a long moment before she exhales. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Didn’t you already?” I tease, unable to help myself.
Her cheeks flush. “Yes, but . . .”
She looks so discomforted that I instantly feel bad for teasing her. When did I start caring about this gods-blessed’s feelings?
“Go ahead, it’s fine.”
She licks her lips. “Are you . . . are you still hunting me?”
That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?
When I woke up this morning, I knew who I was. What my purpose was. Granted, I had failed at my task, but I was still a Hunter. Even the king’s threat to destroy my bond with Mist hadn’t changed that.
But this evening’s events have altered everything.
“I don’t even know if I’m still a Hunter,” I tell her honestly.
I broke my vows in helping her escape. Where does that leave me? The king won’t ignore my involvement in this. Even if he didn’t already hate me, he would never let a betrayal like this go unpunished. He has an image to uphold, after all.
“Oh,” she whispers.
“I meant what I said earlier, Wren. I’ll get you out of Rosebridge.” I will not let the king get his bloody hands on her, nor will I let her die.
Those violet eyes sweep over mine, searching for . . . something. “Why?” she asks after several minutes have passed.
The question feels incredibly layered.
Why are you helping me?
Why are you still here?
Why are you doing this?
I rub my hand over my chest, where that unceasing tug feels as incessant as earlier. “I just . . . have to.”