Caramyn
Caramyn stood in the same spot for what felt like hours, staring into the lifeless fireplace that was supposed to be kindling with the firewood they had set out to find. Instead, they had only found disaster. Just when her heart had finally begun to open, her past reared its head and closed it, stitching it shut tighter than before. But there was still a wound left that she couldn’t seem to repair so easily.
She had experienced her fair share of betrayal and rejection, but this time it was different. She’d never felt rejection from someone she had begun to trust. Never from someone she was starting to...
No. I feel nothing for him.
She knew she must tame these thoughts that churned like the waters beneath those cliffs. It was the only way she would be able to win the war within herself. She couldn’t let herself continue to care about Asterious. Caring about him had cost her everything.
But her desire to find out the truth was fully alive and well, fueled by the pain left from their interaction. She would not be able to leave this place, these people, and just forget it all like Asterious expected her to. Whether he liked it or not, he had entangled her in his mess, and now she wouldn’t be discarded so easily. If he didn’t trust her, fine. But how dare he pretend he had the moral high ground when he was so clearly concealing something too sinister to even imagine. How dare he try to threaten her with killing her after toying with her emotions all this time.
It was all a trick. It had to be. There was something he didn’t want her to know, and it had shaken him that she’d gotten so close to figuring it out. He wasn’t sending her away to protect her, or to keep from killing her. That was horseshit. He was sending her away because guarding whatever secret he kept was far more dire than even getting his precious Shadowblood sword. More sacred, apparently, than saving his own sister and mother.
And now that he had unmasked her secrets, she intended to do the same to him. She’d not forgotten those disturbing chains in the West Wing. And surely that’s where she’d find the truth. She had one night left here in this castle and nothing left to lose.
And as though he’d heard her very thoughts, Nocthar swept in and landed on the windowsill, the gleam of his eye catching the last bit of daylight as it faded beyond the horizon. And in his beak—the key to her room.
She didn’t even care to know how he’d managed it. All that mattered was that he did. And she could either run…or unmaskAsterious. The bird dropped the key into her open palm. “Well done, my friend.” She stroked him, running her fingertips along his sleek, black feathers as a plan took form in her mind. “Nocthar, make sure your wings are well-rested. Tonight, we’re going to take a little visit to the West Wing.”
34
The West Wing
Caramyn
Caramyn crept to the door. The castle would be sleeping now, she hoped. Putting her ear to the door, she listened for a sound, sure there would be guards on the other side.
To her dismay, the creaking of the floor and a muffled man’s cough in the distance warned her there was someone out there. But then silence. She waited, but no more sounds ever came. She crouched down to check the space between the door and the floorboards, finding no sign of shadows or boots. Did she dare risk it? Surely the prince wouldn’t have ordered them to kill her if she tried to leave.
He wouldn’t.She repeated it in her head more than once, trying to convince herself.
She tiptoed back for her dagger she’d been keeping under her pillow. Gripping it in one hand and the key in the other, she unlocked the door to open it just an inch. She looked through the small gap, holding her breath. And to her surprise there was not a soul to be found.
So what—or who—had she heard? It hardly made sense, but she refused to stuff herself back in that room and waste her last chance to find out who Asterious truly was.
She sent the raven ahead to scope out the rest of the tower. He returned with an encouraging coo, reassuring her she was truly alone. The bird perched on her arm as she made her way down the steps in silence. The sound of his wings wasn’t worth risking. She tucked the key away safely into her corset, and gripped the dagger, ready to strike should the need arise.
But it wasn’t enough. She wouldn’t be caught in another devastating situation unarmed like she’d been at the edge of the Woods or the Western Sea cliffs. Taking a torch from the wall, she carried it to light her way to the first destination. Using the secret passageway from before, she made her way to stables. The bow and quiver of arrows still rested against the wall where Terrin had placed them the night he saved her. It was exactly what she had come searching for.
Caramyn took the weapon and slung the quiver over her shoulder. The familiar feel of the leather strap across her body and the weight of arrows on her back was like a hug from an old friend. Satisfied, she crept back up the passageway to search the rest of the castle.
It was an unsettling trek. As she wandered the cold stone halls, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that someone was following her. Nocthar would circle every now and then, checking thesurroundings, but he could find no indication that her feelings were true. She shook it off. She was simply being paranoid.
Caramyn remained on guard as she crept through the shadows. Sneaking around was her specialty. With a bow, the cover of darkness, and a clear view of her surroundings, she was more than capable. It was exactly in these conditions that she thrived—when she was outside among the living, breathing forests she knew. But here, within unfamiliar stone hallways, her confidence waned.
Finally, after passing through the hall of armor she’d visited before, she approached the forbidden wing of the castle. Just like last time, as she stood peering down the corridor, something called to her, holding her spellbound despite her unease. She felt it in the way the air shifted, and in the groans the walls sang out as the night wind battered them. Something was different on this side of the castle. It wasn’t just the crumbling walls or the cracked, ivy and moss-covered floor. It was something otherworldly.
She decided to nock an arrow, just in case, and kept it ready. She had lived years carrying the weight of the Shadows, yet she had never felt more pelted by darkness than she did stepping foot into the hall. There was some strange magic here. Something sinister. Something Asterious didn’t want her to see.
For a moment, she thought she heard the heavy rattle of chains in the distance, and a small gasp took her breath. As she settled her pounding heart with an exhale, the sound subsided.
Something within her pushed her to keep going. Perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps it was the desperate hope of uncovering whatever Asterious wanted hidden, to prove she wasn’t the only one guilty. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. Whatever it was that spurred her on, she listened.
Each silent footstep brought her closer to the dark red door at the end of a corridor. The same one from before, but nowthat she was alone and could examine it better, she noticed how the door might’ve once been bright and rosy, but now it was the deep color of blood. As she neared, she could just make out some intricate carvings that were slowly succumbing to their age as the wood chipped away. Thorny vines that had long ago burst through from the floor encompassed the threshold in a protective manner, some with small rose blooms that were beginning to wilt.
With eyes wide and hands trembling, she crept towards the beautifully grim door. She stretched out a hand to turn the tarnished door handle, but before she could touch it, Nocthar swept across her line of sight and let out a dire screech in urgent warning.
But it was too late a warning.
