I screamed, pain lacing itself through my flesh. Struggling to gain my bearing, I scraped William’s hand, crying out, “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t!”
Tears welled in my eyes with each parting syllable.
William threw me across the room, sending me into the nightstand, shoulder hitting against the hardwood, which fell over on impact. Hot blood trickled from the head wound and from various scrapes.
Contents from the drawer scattered across the floor. The vial of Silas’s long-forgotten blood, the journal, and the dried rose from nights ago splayed out.
William wrapped his hands around the fabric of the falling dress and hauled me up. Terror seized me, and I squeezed my eyes, bracing for the next blow as his hands tightened around me.
William laughed. “I wondered if the beast has had his fun with you yet.” He tossed me onto the bed and unbuckled his pants.
I scurried to the opposite side of the bed, mind racing.
The balcony doors were nearby. If I could pry one open quick enough to drop down, escaping into the garden’s maze should not be an issue. The drop was only ten feet from the ground at best. I’d simply be bruised. At worst, I break something in the fall.
I inched closer to the door.
William’s hungry eyes grew ever closer until he was climbing across the bed, licking his lips.
Ayla coughed into her hand, drawing William’s attention away. “I have a better plan. Silas is still somewhere on these grounds and could not have gotten far with that gunshot wound. We need to lure him out, and she”—she swept across the room, pulling William to his feet, who was completely enthralled—“is the ticket. Don’t you think it would be fitting to repay the debt?” Cold blue eyes swept to me. “A perfect catalyst to end all of this for once and for all.”
William’s cruel smile widened as he hopped off the bed and buckled his pants. He called to a few people, their bodies shadowing the door to where I did not make out clearly who they were other than to guess that they were a part of the village. He whispered to them in soft hush voices that I only made out a few words.
“Lure” and “ready.” Without much context, my heart sank. I was either going to draw out Silas, or I was going to marry William.
William turned back to us. “I’ll prepare the arrangements for the ceremony, and we shall have our beast before the blood moon is over.”
William disappeared down the hall, shouting orders at those wandering. I did not stop to think how they got past the ghost but knew that they somehow did. I dare not to picture Ebony alone and terrified, trapped in an endless abyss and watch as her castle and master were taken all in the same night.
Ayla followed, and just like the many times before in this castle, the person standing in Ayla’s place was not her but a long-forgotten form. In some manners, it made sense as the truth fumbled its way out.
“What is it that you are after?”
She stopped dead cold, body rigid as she flexed her fingers. Ayla shifted, tossing her head back in response. “Vengeance of what I am owed and my right.” Turning swiftly, she left the room, her heels clicked down the corridor.
Thirty-Two
Igroaned, scooting along the floor to rest my back against the bed. Muscles strained as I propped myself up to sit up properly. My foot nudged the diamond shape vial inches away, the glass chiming dully across the floorboards. It landed near the spine of the journal curled at the base of my thigh. I picked the vial up, the taste of blood from the garden danced faintly upon my lips.
Without a single thought, I drank it. Icy cold raced through my veins, skin stitching itself back together and the pain eased into a phantom ache. I sighed, settling into a fraying body.
I had to solve it—solve everything. That very night.
I leafed through the journal once more, trying to find any clue that could solve the mystery and makesense of what was happening. Cecilia, the shadows, and even the weird visions of the past yielded nothing coherent in leading me to the heart of the mysteries. I had read through this multiple times to find Silas’s true name to come up with no leads. Yet part of me knew the answer had to be there.
It was my only hope.
I held the journal tight, adjusting to the faint scrawling. The last entry was written in terrible haste with some of the words not entirely printed onto the page properly. Black ink smeared, as if the author’s shaky hand was becoming more and more unstable as he sat to write. Occasionally, the stroke of the lettering changed with most of the cases happening in the middle of the word. Then there were the matters of the stray letters tucked away into the flaps and the oddity of letters at the bottom of the correspondences.
I set the book on the desk, digging into the drawers for pen and paper. I hastily circled the capitalized letters, stringing them into a coherent name, ringing alarm bells inside of my head.
In the garden.
In the gardenglared up at me, the dawning realization of what it referred to thrummed through me.Vi et animo. With heart and soul. The shadow’s riddles.
I worked quickly, unfolding the anagram before me until the conclusion reflected in the moonlit room on crumbling sheets. I sat in disbelief at the two little words, my own stomach dropping, connecting piece after piece of what I had to do—what needed to be done.
I shifted the empty vial in my hand, a plan forming as I stitched together the shadow’s riddle. I needed more time—time I no longer had. Squeezing my eyes shut, a knot forming as I sent up a prayer to anyone that’ll listen.
