It’s a perfect moment in the cool dark. I close my eyes, wanting to take it in. Then there’s a muffled boom, and I open my eyes, startled, to see a flare of bright light.
My father freezes for a moment. Then he says my mother’s name.
ChapterThirty-One
DON’T SAY A WORD
‘Go!’ I push at my father. He kisses my forehead then is gone, a dark blur down the drive. There’s another blur and Bertrand arrives.
‘I think you should go inside, my lady.’
His tone is grim. My worry flares into full-blown panic, and I get to my feet. Bertrand places both hands on my arms and fixes me with his ice-blue gaze. ‘You know where to go, don’t you, if…’
My eyes widen. ‘Do you think…?’
He shakes his head, his mouth tightening. ‘I don’t know, Emelia.’
My fear increases at the use of my name. ‘The fortified rooms. I know.’
He nods, squeezing my arms gently before letting go and turning away.
‘Bertrand!’
He pauses. ‘I have to go to the gates, my lady.’
My hands twist together, my voice trembling. ‘Be safe.’
He nods again, then disappears. I go inside, quickly. More guards close the door, locking it.
‘Don’t do that!’ The guard with the key hesitates, turning to me in surprise. ‘My father, my mother, the, er, other guards. They’re still out there. They’ll need to get in when they come back.’
‘But, my lady…’
I stare in disbelief. ‘A locked door won’t keep them out anyway, so what’s the point of locking it?’
The guard nods. ‘Of course, my lady.’ He unlocks the door again then turns, standing with his back to it. The second guard comes to join him, the two of them linking arms to create a barrier. There are guards at each of the long windows as well, both inside and out, a wall of silver and black against whatever might be coming.
I go over to a long bench and lie down, but can’t get comfortable. I’m desperately tired, but can’t sleep, not with my parents and Kyle out there. Giving up, I get up and go to one of the windows. I gasp. It looks as though half of Dark Haven is ablaze. There’s another explosion, lights winking on and off. I sob, squeezing my eyes shut, praying to everyone and everything I can think of to keep them safe.
There’s muffled shouting from outside and I run to the front door, trying to push past the guards. One holds me back, and I struggle. There’s a sharp knock, a shouted command, and the other guard opens the door.
‘Let me go!’
Two figures race up the drive, a blur of black. One seems strangely bulky. As they reach the steps, I realise it’s my father and Kyle, who is carrying…
‘Mother!’ I scream, lunging against the guard’s iron embrace. He releases me, finally. I run down the steps. There’s dirt on my father’s face, one shoulder of his jacket torn. Kyle’s jacket is gone, his shirt ripped across the back. But my mother… She’s slumped against Kyle, her clothing shredded and singed, her long black hair covering her face. ‘Mama…?’
‘Emelia, inside.’ My father’s voice is curt, miles away from the laughing closeness we shared less than an hour ago.
‘She’s alive.’ Kyle’s face is smeared with soot and blood, black in the moonlight.
‘Then why isn’t she moving?’
My mother lifts one pale hand, brushing the hair from her eyes. I gasp. Her face is cut, a slash down one cheek healing slowly. Whatever happened to her must have been serious.
‘Emelia.’ She breathes the word, a whisper on the wind.
‘Inside! She needs to feed.’ My father takes my arm, pulling me up the stone steps. Kyle and my mother follow. My father calls out. ‘Food, for my lady! Now!’ The waiting guards, their faces drawn with concern, snap to attention, two of them racing off in a blur. My father throws open the doors to the sitting room, beckoning Kyle through. I follow them, hurrying to catch up, to see him gently laying my mother on the sofa. My father stands behind it, his hands clenched so tight on the carved wooden frame I can hear it splintering. And my mother, my world, is crumpled and burned, like a rose crushed by a careless fist. She sees me and smiles, though it’s a weary smile, her onyx eyes dark.
