Rion stepped in first, the shock on his face convincing. But was it honest? I could not say for sure. Calix’s eyes widened, and he stepped back into Rion’s shadow.
“Neirin.” Rion’s tone was level as he moved toward me. It was a technique I learned from him to subdue a dangerous threat with calm, rather than rash violence, whenever possible.
I retreated a step but the backs of my legs hit the chaise. No one could be trusted, certainly not Rion, so I held my tongue.
“Father?”
No, Harlan.
He stepped into the room, and his gaze fell to the body of the fallen King. Every instinct told me to defend my case. However, doing so could pose further danger toHarlan, should Rion be to blame for this. With only the three of us in the room—aside from the messenger boy whose word, or very life, should it come to it, was unimportant enough to be noted—the situation could get messy much too quickly if Rion believed that Harlan was aware of his treason. It was better to leave Harlan in ignorance for the time being, though I hated the conclusion he would come to when I fled. If Rion were at the head of this, he would keep Harlan on his side for some time, until another opportunity arose. The commander was not a man to rush. He was a strategist. He would play the long game. He was clever enough to see that the death of both the King and the prince at once would be too much for the kingdom. Beyond that, Harlan was his only alibi for Kaius’s murder.
“That is the dagger of a guard,” Rion stated. “Turn.”
Releasing a breath, I turned, revealing my back and the empty scabbard there.
I’m so sorry, Harlan. I will make this right.But the only way to do that was to run. To flee like a coward. It went against my training, against my every belief, but the need to protect my brother, even at the cost of my own shame, prevailed.
Without turning back to see the hurt and betrayal in my brother’s eyes, I fled through the corridor. The air in my lungs burned as my feet pounded the hard ground, not from the short burst of speed but from the choking in my throat, as I pressed down my emotions.
I passed the unlit sconce and nearly slid at the corner just beyond. Behind me, Rion’s voice boomed out as he called for soldiers.
Heart thundering, blood pounding in my ears, I took to the shadows, regaining speed.
Lost to the moment, I forgot about the fallen soldiers. When my boot landed too high, and ribs cracked beneath my foot, I fell forward. The stench of foul breath rushed my senses as I braced myself just above the second soldier. A shudder shook my body, and I stood, rasping.
Bracing myself against the wall, I placed a palm to my chest. Breathing became difficult, but I pushed off the wall regardless, forcing my legs to move even as they burned with the foretelling of a shift. Not here. Not now.I had to get to the woods.
Shouts came from ahead, and the zing of drawn swords. Soldiers, possibly guards as well, in the tower. Stopping, I brought my hand to the pommel of my sword. The faint light from the tower illuminated the side of one of the men’s faces—Cyan. He spoke to the soldiers, his voice raised, commanding silence and order.
I stepped back, keeping to the darkness. Raising a hand above my head, I felt for a ceiling but didn’t find one. I drew a steadying breath and braced a hand on one side of the hallway, the stone cold and rough beneath my palms. Gritting my teeth to hold off the monster inside of me, I positioned a boot on the opposite wall and found a grip, then repeated with my other foot. Cyan stepped from the tower. Sweat beaded on my brow and dampened the back of my neck as I strained my muscles and scaled the space, walking up the corridor walls with feet on one side and hands on the opposite, until my shoulder blades pressed against the ceiling, my head craned to the side.
Closing my eyes, I focused my attention on each of my feet. The left cramped terribly, and the right was at an uncomfortable angle. To adjust myself, though, I risked falling, so I breathed through the sensations.
I counted four men along with Cyan as they entered the corridor. Each passed under me, unaware. My body trembled with the strain of my position and the press of my monster’surgency. It wasn’t until the steps faded that I let myself descend, each movement sending a shot of pain through my right ankle. Twisted, likely.
Exhaustion and the urge to surrender to it weighed each step as I continued into the endless darkness. I needed to escape, needed to get word to Harlan of the treachery somehow. I brushed wetness from my cheeks, unsure if it was due to the sweat that dripped from my brow or from silent tears.
The scent of dirt washed over me as the corridor opened up to the castle’s old storerooms. Somewhere above me, Nyana worked in the kitchen, oblivious for the time being. Though dizziness hazed my movements.
Swallowing, I pushed on until I reached the ladder that led up to the woods. I climbed, the pain in my ankle no longer notable over the searing heat that burned within me. The bones in my fingers stiffened, and I snarled. With my last moments of control, I pushed at the hatch, forcing it open, even as the pressure shattered the bones of two of my fingers, fragile as they fought to reform, reshape.
Shuddering, I dragged myself over the edge, raking at leaves and dirt.
Unbridled fear choked out everything leaving the impending shift to exist. An inhuman sound escaped my lips. A cry, a keen. The monster within took control. The heat within became all-consuming, and in the next desperate breath, my ribs snapped, putting pointed pressure on my lungs.
We all have monsters. I’m not afraid of yours.If the masked woman knew of my monster, saw me in this state, would she remain true to her words? No. She’d fear me or hate me—the only logical reactions to flee … or to fight.
My skull fractured, shattered, elongated. The ringing in my ears was deafening.
Flesh tore and reformed, and my body took on a new shape. I tried to stand, but the fit of my boots was all wrong, and I stumbled forward, falling on my face. The partially remodeled bones, weakened, shattered again at the impact. Pain flared as my body tried to put itself back together. I cried out, the sound a yelp, not wholly my own.
The leather of my uniform consumed me, drawing memories of the dark cellar of my youth, and of my cage, too small to even turn around in.
My breath quickened to a pant. And then with suddenness, the pain stopped and the fire within my muscles ebbed. I needed to free myself from the dark confines that constricted me, but I couldn’t move.
My body was his now.
11
