Mariel’s hand finds mine again. We turn away as the last sparks fade, two sisters bound by loss.
***
The castle feels colder in the days that follow, as though it’s mourning with us. I keep to my chamber, leaving only to check on Mariel and Vivian—making sure they still eat, still speak, still breathe.
Keiren comes every day, sometimes with food, sometimes with flowers or tea, but I don’t let him in. I know it isn’t his fault, not truly, but I can’t bear to meet his gaze or allow myself the mercy of comfort.
I finishThe Tale of the Fire Spirit and the Snow Fairy, but sleep refuses to come.
All traces of warmth and goodness feel stripped away, replaced by ghosts and guilt. I lie awake staring into the darkness, and this time it isn’t fear that keeps me restless; it’s fury. It seethes beneath my skin like molten metal, too hot to cry out, too wild to contain.
My fists clench. My chest aches.
I want to scream. To strike. To burn something down.
But the castle is built of stone and silence, and there is nowhere to release the fire rattling in my bones.
So I walk.
Barefoot and breathless, I storm through the empty halls, down to the training chamber. It feels like it’s been waiting for me.
I reach for a sword instead of my usual daggers. It’s heavier than it looks, but the hilt fits my hand perfectly, as if it were made for me.
And then I move.
Slash. Parry. Strike.
Again.
Again.
Steel sings against the dummy’s fabric, a cruel rhythm echoing off the walls. I move faster, harder, striking until the seams split, until stuffing pours out like entrails, until the sword slips from my fingers and hits the floor with a deafening clatter.
I drop to my knees and let out a primal scream until the fury burns itself hollow. Then I sob.
The castle watches in silence. And doesn’t close the door.
By the time I stumble back to my room, sweat slicks my skin. I collapse into bed without washing, too spent to care what Marb will say about “unladylike habits.”
I’ve never been a lady, and I’m not starting now.
Chapter 35
Flame & Shadow
Dawn bleeds pale through the curtains. I saddle Brimstone before anyone can stop me. I need space, air, something that doesn’t reek of rotting stone and invincible curses.
I need to outrun the echo of Cassy’s scream.
So, I ride. Past the gates. Down through the orchard. Into the wild fields below the cliffs, where the trees twist and the wind whispers secrets to the grass.
At the stream, I dismount. Brimstone drinks, breath misting in the cool morning air. For a moment, the world is still.
Then the sky darkens. Wind coils around me, alerting me to the shadow overhead.
Black scales. Crimson-veined wings. The dragon descends.
He lands before the tree line, shaking off rain before folding himself into silence. Two thunderous steps, and he’s before me—head high, golden eyes burning like twin infernos.
