Lady Luck might finally be warming up to me.
The secret passage isn’t locked by magic.
My feet make no sound as I slip out of my room. There are no guards stationed on my floor. I assume that’s because Leon is convinced that I can’t escape my room.
I love that for me.
Sticking to the shadows, I let Cassandra’s memories guide me, her super-spy skills finally getting a chance to shine.
The gray haze that was suffocating me earlier tonight is already becoming a distant memory.
Does this mean I suffer from mood swings?
I can just imagine what Dr. Parnard would prescribe to help with my deteriorating mental health. Probably something along the lines of ‘go for a run every morning and sing Disney songs as loud as you can in the process.’ He really needs to meet Damien. They would have the bromance of the century.
The corridors stay blissfully empty until I reach the first floor. The hallway orbs are dimmed, but it’s easy to pick out the guard as he stalks down the hall with lethal intent.
The Elite guards don’t fuck around.
But neither do I.
He’s heading my way, and I slip behind one of the massive white curtains that frame floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains are made of soft, white silk.
There was nothing in my closet even close to black, so I went with another version of camouflage. The long, cream-colored silk dress isn’t too poofy and drapes lightly over my hips. Luckily for me, it’s almost the same color as the curtains.
His footsteps grow closer, and I hold my breath. I’m itching to use my new bracelet, but I don’t dare call on the scythe – not when Need apparently has a thing for hunting Reapers. Instead, I grip the dinner knife stashed in the folds of my dress.
I would really prefer not needing to kill a guard, because if I do, I’ll need to hide him, and the man is wearing a full suit of armor. That just sounds exhausting.
Oh… and because murder is probably bad.
Am I in my villain era? If I write a manifesto, I’m blaming the patriarchy for everything.
The guard never once slows his stride, and I do a mental happy dance. I’m thankful for the short time Nymara spent helping me find my way around the castle as I make my way to the East Wing.
More guards stalk the halls, but I manage to avoid them without incident.
The East Wing has multiple entrances, so I head to the one on the main floor. It’s an educated guess, since the note was pretty vague about the meeting spot.
Will the person just be standing out in the open? This seems like a terrible way to have a secret meeting.
My shoulders slump when I find the main entrance to the East Wing empty.
Maybe the person got tired of waiting? Considering I don’t have a watch, giving me a time to meet seems slightly unfair.
Not ready to give up, I pad through the corridor.
Maybe I got the wrong entrance?
Figuring it’s worth a shot, I silently make my way to the stairs, only to freeze when a dark shadow emerges from behind them. They step into the dim light, and I let out the breath I was holding.
Nymara holds a finger up to her lips before soundlessly beckoning me to follow her.
Well shit.
Is this part of her mental break? She’s had every opportunity to help me over the last two weeks and hasn’t taken it.
My anxiety grows, but I follow her anyway. It’s not like I have anything left to lose.
