No one had told me I had to stay in the spire. Maybe a little walk at night would ease my spirit and I could look at the castle, get a feel for the layout.
The night air blew into the room, the tapestry doing a poor job of keeping the cold out. The candlestick on the night table flickered as the pitter-patter of rain hit the castle walls.
A chill ran through me as a low whistle from the howling window entered the bedroom, making the tapestry flap. In the day when the sunlight beamed through the stained-glass windows, the spire didn’t seem as frightening, but at night, in the cold and the darkness, all warmth seemed to seep out.
The red on the large area rug had faded, the edges worn. Candlelight danced across the stone walls, making the cobwebs high in the corner glitter.
Hugging the blanket tighter around me, I watched the shadows, waiting for Kane or some other fae to appear out of them.
Deirdre.
“Hello? Who said that?”
Wrapping the blanket around me, I walked over to the broken window, peering outside, half expecting a pair of amber eyes to appear.
Thunder boomed, making me jump, and I held the blanket tighter.
I didn’t think I could ever get used to this room. There was nothing warm about it. Not even the small fireplace seemed to remove the chill from my bones.
A fierce wind blew in the room, making the tapestry blocking the broken window flap loudly. I stepped away from the window and back toward the bed.
Deirdre.
Again, my name whistled on the wind. A slight murmur so low I thought my grief had made me mad.
Grabbing the candlestick off the nightstand, I crept toward the door. “Is someone there?”
I thought of ringing the bell and calling for Liora, but it was late in the night and I didn't want to bother her more than I needed to. She had done enough just by bringing Boots here.
“It’s just nerves. I’m hungry, which makes me more irritable and—”
Deirdre.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. A wave of cold washed over me and I froze. Someone said my name, but who?
Slowly, I turned the knob and the wooden door creaked open.
Holding the candlestick, I searched the stairwell.
“Hello?” I whispered into the night, hoping nothing answered back.
One at a time, I took the winding stone steps to the bottom of the spire stairwell. The light cast shadows across the walls as I glanced around at the quiet sleeping palace.
The two guards at the spire entryway, who were always stationed there, were slumped over on the floor.
Are they dead?
Snores came out of the one on the right.
Asleep?
Not wanting to question my good fortune, I quickly trotted past the sleeping guards, moving as quietly as possible.
If I could escape, maybe I could make my way to King Henry and ask for his protection. Surely, he would be furious with Kane for slaughtering one of his people.
But then he may also be angry with me for running away.
It’s a chance I’m willing to take.
