Chapter 7
The observances within this space, this void, are muffled. Masses like these are large, shifting, unwavering, like monsters from beneath. Yet, so many things are clear to observe should one find the right opportunity.
Squeezing through the windowpane was easier than I anticipated. At the bottom of the collage wall a large, crate-sized window with rusted hinges opened right into the cool night of Lux.
My feet sink in the muddy spots of the hill in front of the cottage. I fight a grimace at the feel of it between my toes. I should have picked boots up on my way out but I’m barely thinking past survival right now.
Sawyer left and I could not rest, could not accept this. Answers will not come unless I find them and if I can make my way around the castle, without notice, my eventual escape will be easier. All I can do is focus on getting to the castle. This risk, it will be worth it if our escape is precise.
My feet race along the grass, completely avoiding the pebble driveway up to the castle.
Each slip on the dew makes my leg muscles ache but I press into my heels and climb the grassy hill.
This renewed energy makes movement more fluid, more elongated and for a brief moment, I smile at the freeing feeling racing through my bones.
Lighted lanterns with delicate orange flames line the main drive up to a rounded circle where shrubs and statues seem to have overtaken the otherwise clean landscaping. At the end of the tan drive is Demis, the castle. The gold warmth from the lanterns flickers upon the grey, cold walls.
It is, in fact, very cold.
This nightgown is far too thin.
Getting through the entrance we exited through earlier is a breeze.
Servants are too busy to notice my wraithlike form slip into alcoves and behind open doors.
They are too occupied carrying jugs and trays around, refilling chalices and gossiping around worktables as I pass through what seems to be the kitchen.
Though barely any food preparation looks to be in place.
Smells unknown to me float through the air and my stomach growls again.
A narrow stairwell to my right provides a quick escape from a guard entering the kitchen. His armor clangs as he leans against a marble pillar and I hold my breath behind him. Is he vampyr? Would he hear me breathe?
Seconds later, a maid enters with linens in hand right as he grabs her into a quick embrace.
The girl giggles in his arms and leads him out into another workroom.
My breath releases and I begin climbing the spiral stairway up, unsure of where I am headed.
At the top, there is no door, rather a piece of tapestry hangs over the exit.
I press my hand to the ancient canvas and pull it back, letting the art sway from my touch.
Poking my head out into the space, I recognize it as the grand hall we passed through after I woke. Rotating my head, I scan each end.
Guards stationed at the west end of the hall stand unmoving, as if frozen in time. The east end is empty, lit by lanterns and the moonlight shining through the openings that lead into gardens and courtyards.
Heading east, I smile at the hidden passage. Clever. Probably useful for the servants put to work in this wretched palace.
Keeping my body close to the wall, I move one foot at a time, keeping myself as thin as possible until I dash to a small wall beside the entrance into one of the courtyards.
Luckily, it’s empty tonight. No scandalous women in sight.
The thought of being caught makes my stomach jump. I don’t know what would become of me. The grace and respect I’ve been treated with since my awakening has been overwhelming but what if they realized I was a traitor? They would realize, shortly, that I am not Elivienne.
Cedric spoke of enemies.
The courtyard is silent, peaceful even. The noise of the castle is gone now, the people we once passed nowhere to be seen. Tables and benches lay around, untouched by the temperature and bushes of the deepest greens scatter about, as if still proving that it truly is spring outside.
On the other side of the courtyard lies a large set of doors, manned by two more guards.
How they do not see me, I do not know. My body slides behind a statue of the female form.
The woman is shrouded in carved lace, a feat of art that inspires awe.
A moment for myself, I trace my fingers over it, imagining the pottery Ma produces at the village. She would love this.
People come and go from the large doors and I can only imagine what is occurring behind them. Some sin, perhaps. I stay behind the statue for a good half an hour, plotting, panicking, before I see him.
Cedric walks – more like sways and drags his feet – towards the double doors, which open immediately at his arrival.
Music blares from the room, entertaining the chattering crowd within.
The sound of violins and harps float through the castle as if begging to be heard by anyone who would listen.
The music, coupled with the fresh air flowing through the space, provides a sense of repose.
The violinist produces higher pitched notes which melt together with the other instruments so beautifully, I feel as if I am floating.
With his back to me, Cedric enters the room, which I can see from my vantage point is large enough to hold an army. It looks finer than the rooms at the cottage. A large crystal chandelier hangs in the middle and pale white tiles sparkle under the crowd’s dark dress.
The music drains and everyone turns to him. Even the guards move from their post to face him. Bows follow suit with greetings of “King Cedric” and “Your Majesty”.
King Cedric. He is the king.
Lux is completely under his control, though he looks too young to hold a station like this. Surely the rulers of kingdoms have more experience, more age to them. But he’s a vampyr, perhaps that changes things.
And he believes I am someone of importance to him?
I shake the thought from my mind, lowering behind the statue once more. Perhaps Sawyer is in there.
Taking a golden chalice from a servant, Cedric drinks heavily before examining it with a feral head tilt, as if it emptied far too soon. A drunk? He reeked of it in Avonde’s wing this afternoon. She was worried for me, for Elivienne. He could be a cruel thing.
That could make anyone run away.
That would also make a king desperate.
With how fast Cedric’s arm moved, I missed the throw as the chalice he was holding slams into the back of someone’s head at the far end of the room.
The throw, further than I can manage, makes a deadly sound against his victim’s skull.
I gasp and grab onto the stone, my fingernails biting into the cold.
The man grabs his head and slowly turns around.
Sawyer turns around, rather. Unmoved by the blow, he just rubs his head with a shocked, performative expression on his face.
My eyes widen and I have to hold back from running into the room after him.
A cruel thing, indeed. Has Cedric realized Sawyer is no prince?
Cedric orders everyone to leave and they do. They scatter in sprints faster than my eyes could perceive, as if they bend space and time themselves, wielding it to work for them rather than against. In no more than ten seconds, the room is empty.
Leaving Sawyer defenseless against Cedric.
Even the guards leave.
No, no, no, no.
Cedric begins yelling at Sawyer, demanding answers. Answers about me, I collect, and I scoot closer. His delusional demands even catch Sawyer by surprise and I clutch my chest as he moves closer to an exit at the end of the room.
How is he going to get out of this?
Words catch in my throat because I want to scream at him to run, to save himself. I crawl closer, craning my neck to hear their exchange. Confronting Trentin was one thing but confronting this cold, vampyr king is something else entirely.
But then Sawyer responds in a way I do not expect, cannot comprehend. I think I miss it, surely I have misheard.
“Months ago, I discovered I was able to enter her mind, the place she conjured as she slept,” he says.
“We all thought it was possible, yet you barely got a foot in her psyche. But I was able to.” He puts a hand on his chest proudly.
“And perhaps, brother, it was for the better.” Sawyer widens his stance as Cedric approaches more slowly now, as if digesting this admission.
My ears ring and I sway back on my heels.
Brother?
Sawyer has no family. Sawyer has no commitments.
He meanders and travels. How is he established here in such a short period of time?
But he is a human. He’s never been here before.
Sawyer has never been in Lux in his life.
He lives at the village, on the farm with me and Hal and Ma and Trentin.
There is no explanation that makes sense. I grab my chest in pain.
This is a new type of pain. Anxiety. Stress. I can’t cope.
The ground is chilled and wet beneath my feet, but I can’t move. My eyes track back up to the two males locked together yards away.
Cedric shoves Sawyer to the ground before getting on top of him, fist drawn back. Sawyer bucks his hips, but Cedric lands a quick, precise punch across Sawyer’s jaw, blood spraying across the travertine. “What did you do to her?”
Sawyer spits blindly to the side. “Nothing. I’m telling you I went in to help. She’s awake, is she not?”
Cedric lands another blow, Sawyer’s head snapping to the side again and he tries to grab for Cedric’s throat.
He scratches a trail of red lines that immediately disappear.
Cedric picks Sawyer up by his collar and throws him to the side of the room right into a large banquet table.
Food and carafes spill as the table snaps in half from the fierce landing.
I jump from the sheer strength.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Cedric snarls, grabbing a piece of wood from the pile. Sawyer presses up and shakes his head, a bloody smile forming. “Are you not pleased that she is back?”