His grin only deepened at my promise as Aldric led me away.
With each step that took me away from my betrothed, the voices grew louder, burrowing themselves into my mind.
Save yourself. Run. Kill.
Torches flickered along the stone walls, their flames casting long shadows that danced like ghosts just out of reach against the tapestries.
“Why can’t you just behave, Lyra?” Aldric’s voice was soft, as though he feared the walls might listen. “Just for once, not get yourself in trouble with Father.”
I exhaled, weary to my bones. “I do try, Al.” My words trailed off like a dying breath. He didn’t reply. Just walked beside me with tense shoulders and hands that curled into fists then loosened again. The only sound between us was the hush of my ball gown against the floor.
“Are you still hearing them?” he asked eventually, barely louder than a whisper. “The voices. The songs.” He slid his hands into his pockets, a motion so casual it stung. As if my mind, my madness, were an inconvenience to be politely tucked away.
“No,” I lied, too quickly.
“You can trust me, Lyra.”
A bitter laugh slipped past my lips, my heart aching. My gaze flicked to the iron bars across the nearest window, as if blaming him for their existence. They’d been added after I’d shattered the glass to sit on the ledge.
He had seen his haunted sister singing into the darkness in a nightgown, dangerously close to a fall that would have been fatal.
They had thought I was trying to jump. But no. I’d only wanted to feel closer to the sea. Its song had woken me from sleep, luring me there.
“Like last year?” I hissed. “You told Father about the window, who increased my blood lettings to every second day. The priest gets even more time with me locked in the dungeon as his little plaything thanks tometrustingyou.”
He flinched as if my words had hurt him. Regret flickered across his face, but he said nothing. Just looked away like he always did. “You could have died Lyra. I worry about you,” he muttered.
“Don’t.” My voice was sharper than I intended. “The bloodlettings hurt, but they are helping,” I lied.
The truth was it barely dulled the whispers and melodies that plagued my mind, but at least I didn’t see the dead anymore.
We walked through the dimly lit corridors in silence. I ignored the artwork and revolting displays of riches. My father loved collecting rare things while our Kingdom starved. But I did notice the lack of guards pacing the hallways. I stopped at the threshold of my chambers, fingers resting on the carved wood of the door.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, summoning the ghost of a smile, “I need to rest. I’ve got an early morning lashing to prepare for.” I didn’t wait for his reply, closing the door in his face and pressing my back against it as the latch clicked into place. For a moment, I simply stood there, alone in the quiet, where no one could see the cracks beneath the surface.
I gathered my skirts and rushed to the barred window, gripping the cold iron. A fire flickered in the darkness atop the jutting cliffs where Ascension would be held in mere hours.
Not one part of me believed I’d survive, but I was already drowning slowly, in a life that didn’t feel like mine. I sang absently, smirking down at the dark waves below.
Tonight is Ascension night, and I will change my fate, or I will die trying.
Two
Escaping the Gilded Cage
Asmile tugged at my mouth at the distant bonfire flickering like a beacon in the night. A beacon of danger but my only hope at freedom. It was too dark to see the sea beyond it, but I knew it was there, looming like a giant pit in the moonless night waiting for the sacrifices to begin.
I ripped off my ball gown and rushed to open my armoire. Rifling through the dresses, looking for something light, something that wouldn’t weigh me down in the water. No, they were all too heavy and would drag me to my death faster.
I glanced at my pile of slips, each nothing more than a thin piece of silk to wear beneath a dress. I couldn’t help but smile as I slid one of the silver undergarments over my head. It skimmed my thighs and exposed far too much skin.
How improper indeed. I wrapped a thick black cloak around me to keep the never-ending winter from biting into my exposed flesh. I expected to die tonight but, if I survived, my soul would belong to the Gods, and I would be given a gift strong enough to kill a Fae. I wouldn’t just be free of myfather, I would bestrongerthan him, and that blow to his pride may very well kill him for me.
I wove my long, silver hair into a tight braid, hiding it beneath my hood to not give me away.
By dawn, I would either rise as something more, or drown, forgotten, like the countless others who had offered themselves for judgment. Either way, I would no longer be my father’s possession or a plaything for the priest.
Wrapped tightly in my cloak, I eased open the heavy wooden door to my bedchamber. Seeing there were no guards, I slipped quietly into the torchlit corridor beyond.
