Chapter 36
After the nightmare, I cleaned up my mess and then tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall back asleep. Piper never came up to his room, so I’ve had no distraction to keep away my blistering thoughts.
I’ve come up against Plagues, a whipping, a kidnapping, a blood infection, and now, my life force has been latched on to. Yet somehow, the nightmare has ravaged me far more than all those things combined.
The day has come and gone, and I’ve barely touched the food that’s been left for me. I keep replaying the dream over and over again, seeing my mother’s face, hearing the accusatory words, feeling the splash of liquid sticking to me.
It feels like my heart is bleeding.
I’m on the sitting room sofa, staring at nothing as I drag my hands over my face, smearing my tears.
The worst part of it? There’s an ache in me now. Something that began to hurt the second Piper left me here and walked away. I keep having to fight the urge to seek him out. As if this warped, corrupt connection wants us near, just like he said.
To stay close.
Latched.
Kept.
Forever.
My mother’s voice screams louder than ever, and refusal slams through me.
No. I can’t be trapped like this by a Core fae.
The urgent need for escape closes in on me. Comes so strong that I can’t take in a full breath.
A knock on the door has me lurching upright, and I glance over as it opens and three servants stride inside.
It’s the same three as before—Frena, pink in the cheeks with her black hair mostly covered with her veillet; Ryn, who’s still too shy to meet my eye; and Wend, her wrinkles pulled into a glower as if she’s already wanting to whisper another rebuke just by being in the same room as me.
She eyes my uneaten tray of food, and her lips pinch. “We’re here to draw you a bath,” she announces.
I nod numbly, wiping the rest of the evidence of my tears from my face. “Okay.”
She and the others head into the washroom, and I hear them start the water. I get up, wincing slightly at my back. It’s healing well, but the horse ride yesterday irritated it terribly.
I follow them inside, where the servants are busying themselves with linens and soaps. When I walk over, though, I bump into Frena as she’s leaning over the tub, making her nearly topple in, her top half drenched under the spigot.
I gasp and quickly wrench her upright, but the bottle of oil she was holding splatters all over my shirt.
“Apologies, miss!” she exclaims with alarm as she wipes the water off her face.
“No, that was completely my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, Frena.”
“Don’t be so clumsy,” Wend snaps, though I can’t tell if she’s talking to me or Frena.
I pick up one of the linens from the stool and dab at Frena’s dress, but it does nothing to help the soaked fabric. I hiss through my teeth, glancing down at my shirt. “Oh no, that oil got through my bindings,” I admit, feeling the sting. “It’s burning my wounds.”
Wend steps forward with a frown.
“Just give me a moment. I’m going to get my salve and fresh bindings,” I say. “Frena, will you come with me?”
“Of course,” she says, dabbing the rest of the water from her neck.
I lead her out of the washroom and toward the dressing room, where more clothes have been left for me. “Forgive me, Frena. I’ve ruined your dress. Let me get you something.”
Her eyes widen, half her hair sopping over her shoulder. “No, miss. Truly, it’s fine—”
“You can’t walk around the castle in soaked clothes.” I pull out a simple white frock. “Please, wear this. You can bring it right back after you’ve had the chance to clean up.”
She hesitates, but I place the clothing in her hands with an adamant smile. “Go in the dressing room and get changed while I undo my bindings.”
After another moment, Frena relents, hurrying inside and closing the door.
“Do you have your salve?” Wend calls from the washroom, her tone impatient.
“Just getting it now. Be right there,” I call back, voice raised over the running water.
I open the dressing room door again. Frena shrieks in surprise, her gray frock on the ground, the other dress held in front of her like a shield.
“I’m so sorry!” I say, and then I seize her dress.
“Wait—”
“Just going to hang this to dry!” I say brightly.
I shut the door and drag the desk chair in front of it, hooking it beneath the knob. She’s undressed, so I have a minute before she’ll try the door. Hopefully.
As fast as I can, I yank off my clothing. I pull on the servant’s gray frock without taking the time to tighten the laces at the front, ignoring the wet spot blotched down the chest. Then I shove on my silk slippers, left on the floor.
I hastily secure my white veillet, making sure that all my black hair is bundled up like hers was, and maneuvering it to obscure the shape of my horns.
I also shove my fringe back, tucking it into the veillet to expose my forehead.
Frena is pale with black hair and eyebrows like me and she’s of similar height, so I’m hoping with her frock, it’ll be enough.
“Miss?” Frena calls, and then I hear the knob jiggle, but the chair jammed under it stops it from turning. “Miss!”
Please let the bathtub keep filling to drown out the noise.
I snatch up the blanket from the bed, and then I rush past the washroom and into the sitting room, where I yank open the door to the corridor. Two guards are leaning against the wall, and my heart pounds as I quickly close the door behind me, keeping my head down.
“Where are you going? You just got here.”
“I was instructed to strip the bedding,” I say quietly without stopping, trying to talk with Frena’s soft-spoken voice. “Just need to grab new linens before the fiend’s bath is over.”
I feel their gazes on me. Feel them watching as I walk away. It takes everything in me to keep my steps unhurried. It feels like my heart is about to punch through my chest. I’m the servant, I’m just the servant . . .
Suddenly, the door wrenches open and Wend’s shrill voice calls out, “Stop her!”
I break into a run.
My steps fly down the carpeted corridor, and I take the first set of stairs I see.
“Fiend!” I hear the guards’ booted steps following me, their gaits so much longer than mine, but I pump my limbs to go faster.
At the bottom of the stairway, I careen down a side hall.
Someone is gaining on me, so I toss the thick blanket behind me, and I hear him stumble, legs tripping over the bulk.
I burst through a doorway, coming to a second set of stairs, and I practically leap down them.
There’s another shout, but my adrenaline drowns out the words.
Blindly, I run. Trying to stay ahead. Trying to get away.
Down another corridor, down another set of stairs. Another. When I make it to the main floor, my wounds are screaming and my heart pounds in my ears.
I spot a door. Cracked open, letting the waning daylight slip in.
The distance disappears with my racing feet, and I dart outside, onto familiar grounds. As if the Fates are finally giving me a leg up.
The grass glistens, the spray of an earlier rain soaking into my shoes, mushing in with every soggy step. My lungs are begging me to stop, but I don’t dare.
When the pillars come into view, my hope soars.
I’m going to find the right entryway into the leyline. I’m going to return to that forest outside of Hamelyn’s bay and I’m going to get home.
My stomach flips when I see guards up ahead, but I dart behind a tree just before they turn and spot me. As fast as I can, I pick my way forward, using each pillar and bit of shrubbery to hide behind, while my eyes dart around, desperately searching for the right place.
Magic stings the air, snapping against my skin, just as I find the mossy pillar where we were escorted into the Plague burg. It helps me orient myself, and I peer around a bush, seeing the guards turning away from me to make their rounds in the opposite direction.
I take the chance to sprint forward again. Vines. I need to find the spot with vines . . .
Is it between those two pillars? Or is it—
Behind me, a guard’s voice shouts as two burst from the castle. “Stop, fiend!” In the distance, the other guards turn and see me too.
No.
I surge with speed as they all start running toward me from both directions. A panicked sob claws up my throat, but then, I suddenly see it. A set of pillars with vines stretching over the marble. That’s it, I think.
I hope.
But the guards are too close.
Nearly upon me.
At my back and front.
Lose them, Esti.
I feel the air condense as they close in, but I force myself to keep going . . .
At the very last second, I dart sideways, just in time to hear them run into each other with a violent clash.
I allow myself one moment to look back, seeing them tangled up on the ground, and then I fling myself around a pillar, racing straight for the arced ground and the vines with my heart in my throat.
Before they can get up, I leap.
I land.
And then—
I’m gone.