I could risk fleeing to town, but it is doubtful I would reach the road before Eurus caught me. He has already proven the lengths he will go to bind me to him in all ways. No, if Lady Clarisse is away, I will need to delay our departure until her return. She managed to capture this god once. She can do so again.
“You have five minutes,” Eurus commands, pacing the workshop. “For every minute you go over, I will blast a hole through the roof. Understood?”
A bead of sweat slithers down my neck. My mind is already on the chest at the foot of my cot, where quill and parchment lie. “Yes. I’ll b-be quick.”
The East Wind stalks upstairs, likely hunting Lady Clarisse. As soon as he disappears, I scamper back into the kitchen, scanning the counter for the letter I sent via courier bird. I don’t see it amongst the pile.
“While we’re here,” he calls to me from the level above, “grab whatever personal items you may need. We won’t be returning.”
If the message isn’t here, either her ladyship never received it, or she burned it. This may be my only opportunity to contact her directly.
Nightshade is stored in a box under the kitchen table. I pull it out, clip a few dried flowers from the stem. They are deep crimson, with mouth-like protrusions erupting from the center of their petals. After tucking the plants inside a small envelope and slipping them into my pocket, I hurry upstairs to pull my rucksack from the chest, then a quill, parchment, and ink.
My lady—
“Bird?”
My hand cramps from how tightly I clutch the quill. Ink splatters across the parchment.
He took me. I have his ax. He—
A drawn-out groan of wood—the top stair.
I lunge toward my cot, accidentally knocking over the bottle of ink, and slip the note under my pillow. In seconds, I toss three sets of clothes into my rucksack, a few undergarments, extra stockings, and Nan’sThe Practice of Herbal Remedies. I spin around, ramming head-first into a hard, broad chest. “S-sorry,” I manage.
His attention flits around the cramped space. “This is where you slept?” he asks in borderline disgust. “This hovel?”
I shrink against the wall in shame. “It w-w-was the only r-room available.”
“There are half a dozen bedrooms in this estate and that witch put you in abroom cupboard? Where are the rest of your clothes?”
I draw his attention to my pack—away from the spilled ink slinking across the floor. “Th-this is all I h-have.” Most of my dresses are hand-me-downs from Nan. Though the long-sleeved, cotton garments are reflective of Marles’ current fashion, a select few are the more traditional gowns worn in Jinsan, with their short, wraparound jackets and long, voluminous skirts, which Nan brought with her to Marles, a young mother of seventeen.
Only then does Eurus glance away. I sense pity. “Fine. Let’s go.”
I follow closely at his heels. Step by step, my dread thickens. I can’t be sure Lady Clarisse will spot the note. She rarely enters my bedroom except to slap me awake. I should have stuffed the note in my pocket and dropped it on the way out the door.
“Wait.” I catch the East Wind’s sleeve. He braces himself against my touch. “I f-f-forgot something.”
“Too late.” He tugs me onto the front porch. “We have delayed long enough.”
No, no, no, no.If we leave now, her ladyship might never know I returned. Might never know Iwantto return, or that I’m sorry I disobeyed her. If she sells the estate, I will have nothing.
“Please,” I whisper. “I don’t w-w-want to l-leave my home. Take the n-n-nightshade. Here.” I shoveThe Practice of Herbal Remediesinto his hands, the manual that I have read front to back countless times, in guttering candlelight and by the brightness of the open window, when the moon is a coin of polished silver. “This book w-will tell you everything y-you need to know about the p-poisons. I’m sure if you r-r-read through it, you would be able to create th-them yourself.” Granted, the manual is written in a completely different language, but—“You don’t n-need me.”
To my surprise, the East Wind tucks the book inside his cloak. “On the contrary, bird, I very much do.”
Wrapping my upper arm in one large hand, he hauls me down the stairs of the front porch. I dig in my heels. “W-w-wait.” Energy balloons inside me, and I break free of his grip, bolting down the footpath.
Three, four, five steps, and a coil of silvery air snags my ankle, halting me. My struggles grow increasingly desperate. I’m clawing at the noose when movement in my peripheral vision alerts me to another’s approach.
Lady Clarisse races toward me down the road, dropping her bags of produce in the process. “Min!”
“My lady!”
I’m caught, lifted high off the ground, the world falling away. I scream, thrashing in my captor’s grip as tears streak my face. Her ladyship’s shrinking form grows ever smaller, for we are soaring eastward, toward the sea and its punishing winds.
But I don’t stop fighting. He will not take me, not again. Lunging, I sink my teeth into the East Wind’s shoulder, and he swears, trying to tear free of me. I bite harder, cutting through fabric, flesh, until blood coats my tongue.
