Asterious walked to the door, placing a hand on the frame as though inspecting it. “I think she suspects I would’ve come here, but she doesn’t have time to track me down right now. She hides her power for now so that the people don’t oppose her claim to the throne. But she’s already declared treason on anyone who aids me, so I try to keep my presence undetected. I’m not sure many common folk would recognize me…I haven’t exactly been in the public eye. But I’m sure she has spies. I can't take any chances or put anyone in danger on my behalf."
"So that's why you didn't want to ride through Havenswood," Caramyn muttered, almost to herself.
Asterious tilted his chin, in the faintest hint of a nod. “Indeed. Now back to you. I’ve told you a lot. You’ve told me very little. My expectations aren’t high…for now. But I still have one last question.” He stood at the door as though he intended to leave.
Caramyn chewed her lip, her hollow stare following him as she gestured for him to go on.
“My men were only in the Shadow Woods for a few seconds before those wraiths came for us. It’s a miracle they stayed away long enough for me to cross back in to help you.” The prince drew a breath. “Do you understand that while you were lying deathly ill in those same Woods, you should’ve been destroyed by the dark power that infests it?” There was a twinkle in his eye that made Caramyn uneasy.
“I—I do. I guess I was lucky.”
“Hmm. Lucky indeed.” He grumbled the words and turned to go, but Caramyn stopped him with the question that had been burning in her mind since the day she met him. “Asterious.” He turned around at the sound of his name, and she stood tall before the words left her lips. “Why wereyoutrying to cross into the Shadow Woods?”
The prince's expression grew solemn. His gaze dropped as he looked to his left and right, as if he'd just woken up and realized he was in a place he hadn't meant to be. "I think our conversation is finished for now."
Caramyn clenched a bundle of the robe’s silk in her hands and turned her back to him, looking back out the window at Nocthar perched on the far end of the opposite tower. Everything she’d told him had been laced with just enough truth that it served to keep her alive for now. But even that was too much. She should’ve kept her mouth shut entirely.
"I believe you're right, Prince. So don't come back to ask me any more questions. In fact, since there’s nothing more I cantell you about your mother, or any of your other family issues, I think it's time you let me go."
"Well, I can't do that now," Asterious began. "You know far too much about me now, and those loyal to me. And your stubbornness gives me reason to believe you’re hiding something. Maybe nothing. Or maybe something that could put me and my entire court in danger. So, until I determine you’re not a threat, you’re all mine. Welcome to the Forbidden Court, my dear little mystery.” Then he closed the door behind him.
When he was gone, she turned and stared at the door where he had been standing just seconds ago. If what he said was true, and King Daemar really was dead, then there was hardly still a reason to kill Asterious. Her chance to make the King suffer was as much gone as him. Unless she just hated Asterious enough to kill him anyway…but would it be worth the trouble?
Gift.He’d called her mother’s power a gift. It was unheard of to hear someone speak like of magic that way, especially a Blackwynd raised to hate it. But a few breaths later…
Wretched.
She told him she was just lucky that she hadn’t been destroyed by the Shadows, but the truth was a secret she would take to the grave. Because she would never tell him that her father was a Shadowblood—a Shadowblood who’d fled and left her mother pregnant and alone, claiming she’d been unfaithful. Because though Shadowbloods had nearly been immortal, they were also sterile. It was supposed to be impossible for her to exist. And yet somehow, she did. And she had the mark to banish all doubt. The devastating proof of the dark heritage her mother had never explicitly admitted to, but had also never denied.
And the weight of what Asterious had said haunted her, making her doubt what little she thought she already knew. And she couldn't decide if it was for the better or worse. No one had ever questioned whether the Shadowbloods weretruly responsible for the Lightborn massacre, because no one would've expected anything less from those wretched Shadow magic wielders. But if it was all a lie, like Asterious claimed, what did that mean? What else did he know?
But then…why should any of this matter to her? Even if the past was a lie, what did it matter now? It was better that she just left all this behind and returned to the Woods. Forget all the things she'd heard. For all she knew, Asterious was the real liar. And even if Sinevia was worse than Daemar, it would make no difference. Evylere had always been hostile to Caramyn, and she’d survived. And she would keep surviving. What difference would one more tyrant on the throne make? It wasn’t her battle, and it never had been.
She’d leave this place. She wouldn’t allow Asterious another chance to pry into her life any further. Wouldn’t allow him to drudge up any more painful memories she’d rather not face. As she stared out the window and watched her raven take to the sky with a beat of his wings, she decided it was best for her to do the same sooner rather than later. Tonight, she would escape.
13
The Wolf Beast
Caramyn
Amoonless sky darkened the night. In the distance, low thunder promised cloud cover that would darken the stars too. Caramyn cursed under her breath. It would limit her vision, but at least it also meant that anyone else out there wouldn’t easily be able to spot her.
She watched the clouds coming in from the far sea’s westward horizon. The castle faced the foggy cliffs of Mistwake Bay, and the rest of its walls were encompassed by the flourishing forest they rode through to get here. If she could reach those dense woods, she'd be back in her element and as good as gone.
As more thunder rumbled, drawing nearer, she ripped the sheets from the bed, tore down the curtains, and emptied the wardrobe of all its fine dresses, knotting all the fabric together into one thick cord.
A crack of lightning flashed as she prepared to break the window. She knew if there were guards outside her door, they might hear, so she waited for the next burst of thunder to shatter it with the leg of a wooden footstool. The glass splintered into pieces that tumbled into the darkness below. Caramyn leaned out the window and glanced down, the wind whipping her hair in all directions. The tower was far higher than even the mightiest tree in the Shadow Woods.
Nocthar circled above as ferocious lightning streaked behind him. It was only a matter of minutes before a deluge dropped from the sky, so she quickly anchored her fabric rope to the bedpost and tossed it down from the window. Her heart sank as she watched the end of it dangle a little less than halfway down, where wild brambles and vines covered the stone. If she just knew the state of the stonework, she might be able to scale the rest of the way.
As if linked with her thoughts, Nocthar dove downward to the bottom half of the tower and returned to the window with an ivy leaf in his mouth. She took the leaf and grinned, recognizing the plant by the swirl pattern in the veins. It was no ordinary ivy that laced the bottom half of the tower. It was Iron Vine, a species of ivy said to be strong enough to hold a dragon's weight. She remembered it from the books on plant remedies in her cottage. If it were true, it could easily support her. She gripped the fabric rope and took a breath. Then she climbed out the window.
"This would be much easier in my breeches," she mumbled to herself as the wind tugged at her dress, molding the heavy fabric around her legs. With her feet braced against the tower wall,she shuffled downward, her hands clamped around the cloth like vices.
She hurried, using her vantage point to study the castle grounds with each burst of lightning that illuminated the court. But as the raindrops began to fall, she moved quicker, barely reaching the ivy before the downpour began.
She wasn't far from the ground now, maybe twenty feet or so, and she was much more careless for it. Rushing to slide down as the wind and rain stung every inch of her skin, she reminded herself that at least no one would see her in this downpour. Cold wet hair clung to her neck and face, but she did not lose focus.
