Chapter 29
Cold floods my veins, instant and absolute.
A figure is pressed against the wall of my balcony, blending into the darkness. If I wasn’t already familiar with the curve of that hood, I might have thought it was just a shadow. But I know that shape. I’ve traced his outline again and again in my dreams, and in so many sleepless nights after.
It’s the masked man. He’s here to kill me.
Pressure clamps around my chest, squeezing my heart until it feels like it will burst. He’s right there, with only a pane of glass between us. My lungs refuse to fill. I gasp, limbs locked, staring.
But he doesn’t move. Seconds pass, and he stays exactly where he is.
He could have rushed in as soon as I got back to my room. If my dreams are any guide, he will not hesitate to attack me head-on.
He’s waiting for me to fall asleep.
That means I have minutes. I need to get out of here.
Slowly, I roll away from him. I slide my arm deep beneath the mattress and grab my knife.
It’s too bright in here. My stare bores into the glowing embers in the hearth, willing them to turn to ashes.
I don’t know if it’s Ignar’s power finally answering me or nature’s course, but over a few breathless minutes, the coals dim, then dull, then go out.
Now it’s lighter outside than in, dusk just on the cusp of night. I doubt he can see much past his own reflection in the glass.
It’s time to move.
I pull my pillow down along my side, scrunching the blankets around it to add bulk, then ease off the far side of the bed.
I crawl toward the door.
Behind me, the latch clicks softly. Too late.
I pull back and slide beneath the bed, flattening myself against the floorboards. The slats are close enough to graze my nose. A gust of cold air whispers over my cheek as the balcony doors swing open.
He enters, placing each boot carefully. I watch, wide-eyed, as he circles the edge of the room. He’s heading for the side of the bed where he thinks I’m sleeping. I clench the knife between my teeth, grip the slats above me, and pull myself hand over hand toward the balcony.
He stalks toward the pillow wrapped in blankets just as I slide out by the windows.
I ease onto my knees, staying bent below the edge of the bed. When he discovers it’s empty, he’ll find me in seconds. I need to distract him. I lift the chain over my head and clutch the voidstone to my chest.
I hold my breath.
A heavy blow thunks onto the mattress, shaking the frame.
Panic moves me. I scramble around the foot of the bed and pitch the voidstone into the far corner of the room. It clatters off the wall. His bootfalls bound after it, as I spring up and bolt onto the balcony.
I slam the doors shut behind me, wrench the shutter rod free from its bracket, and jam it through the handles.
He appears out of the murk on the other side of the glass, and I shriek around the knife. Iron floods my tongue. Heart pounding, I pull the blade from my teeth and hold it out. Between the mask and the hood, I can only see his eyes.
He rattles the doors. The rod bounces but holds.
It won’t stop him long. I climb over the railing and jump. Air tears past me, and pain explodes up my leg as I hit the ground hard. But I lurch ahead on what I hope is just a twisted ankle.
Gravel digs into my bare feet as I race across the grounds. If I scream for help, he’ll reach me before anyone else does. The boundary wall looms ahead, and I spot the door I followed Drina through. The trees will hide me.
I yank open the crossbar and plunge into the woods, ankle throbbing. The dirt softens underfoot, the starlight disappearing into the canopy. Branches snag at my nightgown and rake across my arms. The riverbank diverts my path, and I follow it until I reach a bridge, dashing across for cover.
I don’t know how far I’ve run when my ankle buckles. I catch the nearest tree for balance, glancing back the way I came. The forest is quiet aside from my own harsh breaths. Nothing moves in the dark behind me.
I shove off the trunk and run again.
The woods open onto a clearing, but I don’t make it far across. My ankle twists on nothing, throwing me to the grass. I force my way to my feet, and limp forward, scanning for somewhere to hide. My nightgown is a white flag against the darkness.
Something catches my eye in the tree line.
No, no, no.
His silhouette resolves from the shadows as he steps into the clearing.
My breath comes out in a tangled sob. He stalks toward me. His dead eyes are focused, his steps sure. This is exactly like my dreams. I know the swagger of him, the gloved hands, the curve of his hood.
I know how this ends.
“Stay away!” I yell, stumbling backward. “Stay away from me!”
My words don’t even slow him down, so I run. Three strides in, my ankle fails and I spill into the cold grass.
I scramble to get a grip on my knife and twist onto my back just as he closes the distance between us. His boots settle on either side of me, and he bends down until his hood blots out the stars. A long dagger glints in his hand.
I bellow, hoarse and primal, and slash at his legs.
My blade catches, and he grunts and stumbles back, slicing his dagger at me. The steel bites into the inside of my upper arm. I screech as blood spurts across my nightgown. The burning pain shocks me. This can’t be happening.
But it is happening. He stalks forward again. I dropped my knife somewhere. My bloody fingers sweep through the grass and find nothing.
He grabs my nightgown and raises his dagger.
“No,” I choke out.
The world turns white.