NEVER GOING TO GET AWAY
WREN
Icatch up to the king quickly. Perhaps, if I had stopped and taken a moment to think about it, too quickly.
I race through the trees as stealthily as possible—which is to say, probably not all that quietly since my heart feels like it’s about to burst from my chest and my lungs are burning along with my muscles—while keeping the king and my sisters in my sights.
He is taking them away from the battle, but they aren’t going towards the camp, either.
The twins are gagged, and their hands are tied in front of them, bound by ropes made of crimson magic. Blood is dripping down one of their foreheads, but they’re too far away for me to tell which twin is hurt.
It doesn’t matter, though, because the king has my sisters, again. He tugs them along, and they stumble, trying to keep up.
What the fuck do I do?
The thought swirls through my mind as I chase after them. Holding my dagger in one hand and a flame in the other, I desperately try to come up with a plan. There must be something I can do to save my sisters.
The problem is that the king is older than me and more powerful.
I’ve been training with my magic for a few months while he’s had years to learn how it works.
And there’s also the not insignificant fact that the king has Harvested magic from hundreds of other Blessed.
He stole their power, and how am I supposed to come against him?
I wish Gabriel were here. He always has a plan, and I’m sure he’d know what to do.
But he isn’t here, and I’m alone. Saving my sisters is on me, and me alone, and that might be the worst part of all this. Death follows me wherever I go, and I was foolish to think I could protect my sisters.
Every plan I come up with I reject just as quickly. They’re wrong. Too obvious, too dangerous for the twins, too far-fetched.
I think, and I run. I follow them deeper into the woods, ignoring my aching muscles, until the sound of rushing water reaches my ears. I peer out from behind a tree, my eyes widening when I realize we’re back at the same stream I crossed with Gabriel yesterday.
It feels like a lifetime has passed since then.
The king stops at the water, his back to me, and he seems to stare at it for a moment. Unsure of what’s happening, I keep my dagger in hand, hold my flame close to my chest, and press my forehead against the rough bark.
“I know you’re there.” The king’s voice is quiet, but there isn’t anything soft about his words. They hit me in the center of my chest, and everything churns.
The dagger quivers in my hold, but I don’t move from my hiding spot. A new plan starts to form in my mind, but it’s so risky. So dangerous. And I . . . I don’t know if it’s the right move.
“Did you think you would be able to hide from me forever?” His voice is oily and slick and makes me feel like dirt is covering every inch of my skin. I’ve never been in the presence of anything so appalling. “You were never going to get away, Wren Nightingale.”
My heart, which has been hammering ever since I got here, lurches at the sound of my name. Every hope I’d had that the king didn’t know I was here, every hope that he was bluffing, vanishes into thin air. My breath catches, and the dagger slips in my palm.
“You never should’ve run from your Giving. You’ve made things so much worse for yourself, and your family.”
There’s a muffled cry, then a soft moan, and that’s all it takes. Even though I know it’s foolish and my plan is little more than a wisp of an idea, I step out of my hiding place.
“Don’t!” Panic has the flame in my hand burning like an incandescent flame. “Don’t hurt them.”
The king pivots, his crimson eyes meeting mine from across the clearing, and he smirks.
Actually fucking smirks as if this is nothing more than a game to him.
As if the fact that he’s forced one of the twins—Marie, I can see her face now—on her knees in front of him while he’s holding Violet against his chest, pointing a dagger of pure magic at her throat, amuses him.
Crimson beads where the tip of his weapon digs into Violet’s neck.
The twins look up at the same time, their eyes teary and filled with fear. The sight of them in danger once more is a blow to my middle, and I can barely breathe let alone stand upright.
“There you are,” he sneers.
A torrent of shivers rushes down my back at his icy tone, and everything within me screams for me to turn and run from this threat of a man.
I don’t, though. I’m rooted to this spot, pinned in place by the horrible realization that even though I have the beginnings of a plan—a very bad one—everything as I know it is about to end.
An eagle is perched on a branch above the king’s head. Its eyes, unnaturally red, follow me. The tip of the king’s blade digs further into Violet’s neck, and she whimpers.
“Let my sisters go.” My voice is steady. It doesn’t crack even though inside I’m screaming that it’s happening again.
Twice, I’ve run from this man and the death he planned for me. Twice, I’ve failed.
Only this time, I know I’m truly alone. We’re deep in the woods, and no one will be able to get to us in time. Even my familiar has vanished.
The king’s smile grows, and bile rises in my throat at the sight.
“You’ve realized it, haven’t you?” He tilts his head. “No one is coming for you this time. There is nothing you can do or say that will stop me. I will complete my Harvest, and if you’re a good little Given and do what you’re told, I will make sure your sisters die quick deaths.”
Marie wails beneath her gag, and Violet trembles in the king’s grasp.
Like the bloodthirsty, loathsome man he is, the king laughs.
Fucking suns, that might be the worst sound I’ve ever heard.
Worse than Amelia’s final scream. Worse than the thud of Kadyn’s body hitting the floor when he sacrificed himself for me.
Worse even than Gabriel’s cries when he’s caught in the throes of a nightmare.
“Why are you doing this?” The question slips from my lips as I step towards the girls. My plan is still little more than fragments of an idea, but there’s no time to waste, no time to think it through.
“Why?” He has the gall to look affronted.
“Why do birds fly? Why do the suns shine? The Harvest is normal. Natural, even. If too many people have power, it becomes diluted and loses its potency. Harvests allow the gods’ magic to be used in the way it was always intended, to keep the rest of the kingdom in check. ”
Everything he says rings false, a stark contrast to the history books I read in the seer’s study.
“No, you’re wrong.” I inch closer. “The gods never intended for magic to be Harvested. It’s a gift meant to help others.”
I think of the way my magic healed Skyler and the way the People of the Wilting Roses use their magic to stay hidden and keep their community running.
None of the Marked Ones in this place keep their magic for themselves—they use it to help others, to uplift and protect everyone.
I am certain this was how it was always meant to be.
That’s why they call us Blessed, I realize. Because in the right hands, used for the right reasons, magic can truly be a blessing. Not just for the bearer, but for everyone they come in contact with.
But in the hands of someone like the king . . .
He scoffs. “A fucking gift? No. You’re a na?ve little girl. True power is meant to be in the hands of a few, not many. A land without a strong leader is a broken, lawless one.”
Is it, though? Even though the People of the Wilting Roses respect Evelyn, the seer isn’t their leader.
They have several, and from what I can tell, their lives are much better off than most of the people in Myreth.
Especially since they don’t ritually sacrifice a portion of their citizens when they turn twenty.
I move closer to the king but stop when he shifts the angle of his dagger. “That’s close enough. Tell me your decision. Will you come willingly, or do you require more . . . encouragement?”
He trails the crimson blade down Violet’s neck, slicing through the top of her tunic. It falls away, exposing her collarbone, and tears stream down her cheeks. “Such beautiful skin. I’d hate to have to carve it up in order to get what I want.”
Violet whimpers, and that sound solidifies the scraps of my plan. I can’t save myself—my magic isn’t nearly strong enough for that, I can’t compete with the king—but maybe I can help the girls.
Maybe I can still save them.
There’s a sharp burning in the center of my palm and a twisting in my gut, but I ignore it.
I love you, Gabriel. I focus on our newly sealed connection, trying to send the words through it. If there is a higher power out there who cares about me at all, they will let him hear them. Thank you for showing me what life could look like.
I am no longer the same person I was when I slipped out of my parents’ house the night before my Giving Ceremony. I have met many people and seen many things. I have learned there is so much more to the world than what I was taught, and I have experienced far more than I was ever meant to.
I have lived, and thanks to the Hunter and the way he steadfastly worked his way into my heart, I have loved. My life has been far more than it was intended to be, and while it feels far too short, it will have to be enough.
Meeting the king’s crimson gaze, I swallow roughly. My next words are quiet, yet they reverberate all around me. “If you release my sisters and allow them to leave unharmed, I will be your willing captive.”
His eyes narrow, and a long beat of silence passes. “Why in Esyn’s name would I do that? I already have you here.”
That’s a great question.
I raise my left hand, the one with the flame flickering above it, and curl my fingers. The fire snuffs out as if it never existed. My Mark heats, and I know it’s a glowing star, a reminder of why I’m being hunted in the first place.