Inside was empty, and—relieved to avoid my aunt’s questions—I climbed out the window and sprinted across the courtyard to where Oren’s devilish horse waited. Unable to shake the feeling of unease, I faced the palace. The towers glared down at me, as though they knew I was an intruder in a building that had never felt like home.
A sharp wind blew, marring the sunny day, and when I tilted my head back, ominous black clouds rolled over the mountain. A storm was brewing, a bad one from the looks of those clouds.
The sonorous notes of a flute sounded, and I pulled my head back down as Oren strode toward me, surrounded by a halo of golden light. His flute was against his mouth and his fingers danced gracefully up and down the length of it. Despite my mixed feelings about him, he looked like an angel of death, and his dark beauty and magnificent power left me breathless and weak-kneed. I wasn’t used to feeling helpless, but around him, I was out of my depth.
He broke off rather abruptly and held out his hand to me. It was cold when we touched, but he drew me to him, deep eyes skating over my face. The wind tugged at his red hair, blowing it straight back from his smooth brow.
He angled his head as though he would lean down and steal a kiss. I licked my lips in anticipation, tasting a hint of salt in the air. The moment stretched as he held me, and I waited, barely daring to breathe, aware of his allure. Instead of kissing me, he tossed me on the horse’s back and mounted behind me. His warmth enveloped me even though his hands were still cold.
With a sharp command, he spurred the horse onward, and we bolted out of the gates as if the demons of hell were racing at our heels. Perhaps they were, for the wind howled behind us. I clung to the horse’s mane, feeling as though, despite Oren holding me, the impending storm would blow us away.
The rich and pungent stench of fear clung to the city as we passed—the devil on his demon horse with his bride, who wasn’t as reluctant as she should have been. Behind closed doors and windows, the people looked on, furious but helpless, cursing our names as we passed. My heart lurched at the thought of being so hated. All because of the Piper.
We slowed when we reached the forest. The wind wasn’t as strong there, buffered by the trees. Pine and cedar replaced the odor of the city, and I consider the priests’ words about the magic-thralls and trapping Oren’s magic. I had to warn him, but I wondered about the years of his life, how much darkness he’d seen, how long he’d lived, and how many times someone he loved been cruelly taken from him.
The tale of the Piper came again to my mind, the false story told to the people to keep them in fear. How much of it was true? Would Oren explain the full story if I asked? Patting my pocket, I recalled I had leverage, although it seemed wrong to use it against him.
Mentally, I steeled myself for our conversation as we trotted into the courtyard, and a beast rose from the doorway. A scream of terror burst from my lips before I could stop it, and I tried to scoot back, but Oren did not budge.
Mouth open, I stared as a dog-like creature trotted toward us. It walked on four massive legs, covered in short, chocolate-brown fur. Its tail was a mere stump, but it wagged it nonetheless as though it were happy to see us. Yet I could not look away from its face. It was round and smashed in. Instead of skin, there was nothing but skeletal bone and eye sockets, black as night. A hell dog, a mutt of horrors. I lifted my legs higher, whimpering as Oren swung down behind me.
“Barnum, at last,” he said. “I thought you were lost.”
Barnum gave a sharp bark in response, and Oren grunted before turning back to me.
“Tanith, I’m taking Barnum to the barn. Would you like to come?”
“I’d rather stay in the castle while you deal with your hellish beasts,” I snapped, my fear getting the better of me. The image of being ripped from limb to limb would not leave my mind.
To his credit, Oren held out his palm to Barnum. “Stay, old friend, I’ll be right back.”
I shuddered at his use of the word “friend,” although I had to admit I had Pip, an ugly gargoyle as my confidant within the castle. Suddenly, I just wanted to be back in my room.
Oren escorted me to the door, shielding me from the hell dog with his body. I would have considered it chivalrous if I hadn’t been shaking. It was only when we stepped inside and he shut the door that my fear subsided.
Holding my arm, Oren studied me, a frown making his brow pinch. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, I’m just going upstairs,” I reassured him.
He tilted his head as though he didn’t believe me and added, “I’ll return before supper.”
After he left, I closed my eyes and took deep breaths to calm my panic. When I had been a schoolgirl in Solynn, I used to cut through an alley on my way home from school. Even though it had rotten trash and smelled foul, it shaved ten minutes off my walk. I had been in a hurry that day, and didn’t see the stray dog until I’d stepped on its tail. It lunged, barking, teeth snapping. I’d screamed as it latched onto my leg and bit deep, shaking and wiggling. Fortunately, the bite had healed without leaving a scar, but ever since that day, wild dogs made me shiver.
That hell beast was the worst of them all with that skeletal face. I shuddered again, hoping I wouldn’t have nightmares.
A loud thump made me jump, and I scurried to the window, pushing back the heavy curtain to peer outside. The wind blew so fiercely, the trees near the castle bent in half. A lump swelled in my throat as I recalled tales of terrible storms and winds so violent they ripped homes apart. Dry leaves and grass lifted off the ground, twirling in tiny circles, and then the rain came, pelting the earth as if giants poured buckets of water over the land. Had Oren summoned the weather gods? If so, they were furious.
The sky turned dusky, hiding the light of the sun, and tiny pebbles, round like eggs, rained down. They smacked into the ground with a thump, making tiny dents. I gawked. A storm of rain and hail. This was the next level of doom for Dowler.
Feeling sick, I backed away from the window, my mind reeling with what exactly I should do. Oren would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and the more I helped him, the more I was bound to the fate of the city. I did not want death on my hands, but he’d made himself clear. Chewing my lip, I decided to speak with him again and beg him to see reason. Lord Faren and his sorcerers were the problem, but by punishing the city, Oren punished all the citizens, innocent or not. Something had to stop.
Frustrated, I marched to the stairs when a blur of black and blue flashed out of the corner of my eye. I spun to face it, eyes darting across the room somewhat hidden in shadows, window panes shaking from the storm. “Hello?” I called, listening to my voice echo. Speaking out loud made me feel better, although it wasn’t like the gargoyles could answer.
In a hurry to be back in the somewhat safety of my shared room with Oren, I fled up the stairs, only pausing when a high-pitched, quavering voice floated to my ears. “Where are you going, pretty one? I just want to talk.”
No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Was I imagining things? Standing at the top of the stairs, I turned around, my eyes widening in alarm at the creature that stood at the bottom.
The word creature was rather unkind, for it was clear she was a woman dressed in rags that did nothing to hide her filth. I wondered if she’d taken over the castle while Oren slept. Cobwebs hung in her hair and a layer of dust surrounded her like a cloud of flour. Her skin was dotted with moles and other bumps, and her eyes were overly wide and red, as though she’d spent too much time in the dark.
