CHAPTER 3
The door to the carriage opened, and an outstretched hand greeted me, but in typical Avyn fashion, I didn’t take it.
I climbed out of the carriage as fast as possible, happy to put space between the rat of a man still inside.
The sun was blinding after being in the shaded carriage.
I raised a hand, shielding my eyes, and took in the beauty of the manor.
The drive was lined with black and grey bricks; their staggered, crisscross pattern led to a large marble staircase.
The home, if that was what you would call it, was made of different colored stones that glistened in the sun's light.
Windows and balconies lined the walls, surrounded by black-iron fencing that was embellished with intricate details.
The metalsmith who forged them must have had a unique set of skills to achieve such elaborate details; the black metal twisted and turned into various designs of flowers, wolves, and moons.
Multiple servants, gardeners, and guards scurried around the grounds; none glanced in my direction, probably used to servants coming and going.
Soon, I would be just like them, running around this place with my head cut off.
Rat face came to my side as I let go of a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. “This way!” He hissed, pointed at the doors, and began walking away from me.
I took one last look over my shoulder, past the carriage, down the long drive, to the path we had taken here.
Silently, I whispered a goodbye on the wind to Max and Maya before turning back to the manor, holding my chin high, and taking the first steps of my new life.
The doors had to be at least two stories high.
They were made entirely of timber and were adorned with even more details than the iron fencing.
Carvings of trees swaying in the wind, shading a pack of wolves from the sun above, graced their glossy finish.
My head was still pounding from the long journey, but I had to continue moving and not show any weakness.
If any of the other servants sensed any hesitation, they would eat me alive, just like the wolves resting under the wooden tree.
Stepping closer to the doors, I reached my hand out to the handle, but Rat Face let out a whine of a laugh. “Not that way, idiot!”
His knobby finger pointed to the smaller door to the side of the manor, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
He knew exactly what he was doing, allowing me to walk forward towards the main entrance, when he damn well knew where to go.
I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of embarrassing me.
Straightening my posture, I walked towards the smaller door, right past him, not looking in his direction; he followed behind me, no doubt watching my backside.
A shiver of disgust ran through my body, and I contemplated whether walking faster was a good idea or if it would entice him to ogle more.
Once we reached the door, Rat Face looked at me, his slimy smile returning to his face.
“I will see you again soon, Avyn.” His tongue ran over his teeth, grabbing at the spit strings in its path.
He took a step closer to me, and my hands were already curling into fists, getting ready to strike him.
“Hello, Mr. Rattley, is this one mine?” A robust woman in her early fifties said while swinging the door open. “I heard voices out here, and we haven’t a minute to spare.”
I had no clue who the hell she was, but right now, in this moment, she was an angel sent from above.
Disappointment and anger crossed his face as he inhaled a deep breath through his nose, accompanied by the sounds of him sucking on his teeth, “Yes, Mrs. Prast,” he quickly turned on his heels and vanished around the corner of the manor.
Relief escaped me in a quiet sigh as I unfurled my clenched fists. Mrs. Prast shot a knowing eye at me, “Quickly now! What is your name?” Before I could respond, she was already making her way back into the manor. I scrambled behind her, almost tripping on the slanted footstep of the doorway.
“Avyn, Avyn Ashwood, ma’am,” I replied while chasing her through a series of rooms and hallways, trying to memorize where we were going.
She stopped outside a doorway that was the farthest from the servants’ common room, which she had pointed out to me as we hurried by it.
Her greying hair was pulled back with a worn handkerchief that had once been white but was now stained with sweat.
She wore a beige tunic underneath a grey floor-length dress that cinched at her waist. A dirty apron rested at the top of her hips and was tied together at the back.
Her skin was worn and beginning to show signs of age, but it also carried the weathered look of a lifetime of hard work.
“Right, Avyn. Your uniform is on your bed. Change into it and meet me back in the common room. We need to get you sworn in before you can start your work.” She opened the door and motioned for me to go in.
I stepped into the small room and turned back to her as she began closing the door, “And please do something with your hair.”
With that, she closed the door behind her.
The small lanterns attached to the walls flickered to life.
This room was now my home. The walls were a pale grey stone, with many signs of use over the years; nicks and scratches marked them in different patterns.
The ‘bed,’ if that’s what you would call it, was a slim piece of foam laid on a wooden box frame barely two inches off the ground.
The clothes laid out on it were foreign to me.
I peeled off my uniform, relief washing over me as I placed it in the wicker basket in the corner of the room.
The knee-length dress was a dull black that matched the ironwork of the manor's gates and fences.
I pulled it over my head, and it grazed the top of my knees.
Accompanying the dress was a white apron with frills along its edges, which would rest against my hips.
Tendrils of my hair had come loose during the carriage ride, and my curls and waves were starting to escape the ribbons' hold on them.
The top of my head had a few strands of frizzy hair from leaning against the back of the carriage wall.
I looked around for a mirror or any reflective surface, but the walls were bare except for the tiny nicks and scratches.
I undid Maya's ponytail and redid it by feel, hoping it didn't look horrendous.
Tucking the last tendril inside the ribbon, I took one more deep breath and made my way to find Mrs. Prast.
The mental notes on the way to my room helped me find the common room easily.
Mrs. Prast was waiting for me, pocket watch in hand.
“You will need to be faster than that young lady,” she hurried away down another set of hallways, and I followed behind her like a lost little puppy.
“We have a lot of work to do, but first, before anything, we need to swear you in.”
The Academy never mentioned anything about being sworn in. Around us, servants and guards were scurrying, jogging, and running from place to place, carrying this and that. I almost crashed into someone carrying a vase of freshly picked flowers.
“Watch it,” she hissed before continuing on her way.
We entered a dimly lit room filled with stone benches and tables. Mrs. Prast hustled to one of the tables and grabbed an old, withered leather-bound book off it before returning to me.
The book had seen better days and looked like it would fall apart at any moment. “Give me your hand.”
Raising my left hand towards her, she promptly grabbed it, “Repeat these words.
I, Avyn Ashwood, from this day forward, belong to the House of Darkness.
I shall not harm them,
I shall not spite them,
I shall serve from this day on.
I shall keep anything I hear and see between these stone walls.”
Shock and confusion flooded my body, but Mrs. Prast opened her eyes wider, motioning for me to hurry up. I repeated the words back to her and felt a chill run through my body, while the throb in my head intensified.
“Good, good.” She said, “Avyn, from this day forward, you cannot speak of anything you see or hear. If you are caught doing so, you will be executed. Do you understand?”
My breath caught in my throat, but I managed to squeak out a “yes.”
She held my hand and reached for a small metal object on a table nearby, dipping it into a bowl of black, gooey liquid.
“This way, girl,” She tugged me closer to the table, forcing my hand on it, and then put the metal object on top of it.
It instantly burned, and I tried to pull my hand away, but she held it still. The small metal object that now lay on top of my hand had multiple tiny spikes poking into my skin.
Horrified, I looked at her as she raised the book in her other hand and said, “Don’t move,” then slammed it down hard, impaling the small metal pins into my flesh.
Cracked leather pieces dropped from the book as she picked it back up.
The scream that had left my body was ear-piercing, and tears poured freely down my face.
My hand was trembling as I tried not to sob and catch my breath.
She stared at the metal object in confusion and shock, as I tried to remember how to breathe.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, worried I hadn’t completed the ritual correctly and that I'd have to do it all over again.
“What did you say your name was?” She asked, putting the book on the table, and peeled the metal instrument from my skin, inspecting it as if it were about to do something.
“Avyn Ashwood?” I questioned and answered.
“Hmm… very odd.” She said as she placed the spiked object down on the table.
I looked at my shaking hand, and between the black ink and the blood now dripping down my wrist was a wolf's head encircled by a moon.
She turned back to me, all signs of her previous confusion erased, and she was back to business: “Now, girl, you are officially a servant to the House of Darkness.”
The House of Darkness?! The royal family?! I was chosen to serve the royal family?! If I wasn’t doomed before, I was a fucking goner now.
She wiped away the blood, taking one last look at her handywork before applying a salve and securing it with a bandage. “It will heal quickly, now, off to work. We have a party to prepare for.”