As usual, his vindictive scowl could darken the skies in sunny Astreona. I wonder if that’s his secret weapon on the battlefield: snarling at all the Siphons like the feral creature he is.
I lift my chin at him, challenging. We both know my success today means I’m a lot less likely to get murdered by one of the other Rawbonds.
I hope.
When I get backto my room this evening, I notice a note sitting on my small table. The room was locked, which means that this can only be from one person.
Killian.
I approach the note warily and Anassa’s curiosity perks up at the back of my mind.
“From the man I used to… see,” I tell her.
“I’ve gathered,” she responds tersely. She’s probably annoyed that I’ve spent so much mental energy on Killian when I’m meant to be training and strengthening our bond.
She agrees.
Sighing, I unfold the note. I’m not sure what I want from him. After seeing him at the Voice Trial, all I wanted was to seek him out, mend what was broken between us, and find a way to move forward. But can I truly trust him again?
The note stills all my thoughts of trust.
“Come to my quarters when you receive this. I have an update on the Nabbers. Straight through the servant’s tunnel, ignore all turns. It ends at my rooms. —K.”
If he’s found something out about the Nabbers, about Saela, I need to go to him. I grab my oil lamp and open the wardrobe, pushing my clothes to the side. Then I feel for the panel and eventually my finger snags on a button.
I push it and the wooden panel swings open to reveal a darkened stone tunnel. Take the straight path, Killian said. Easy enough.
But as the stone walls twist deeper and deeper into the heart of the castle, my hair starts to raise on the back of my neck, like something is wrong.
Just like in the halls that night after Presentation, the shadows seem to move with a will of their own. Faint whispers echo off the walls, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. They’re too faint to make out words, but they carry an unnerving thrum of energy that settles behind my eyes and leaves me dizzy.
Head swimming, I pause in the dim glow of the oil lamp, bracing my hand against the wall to steady myself.
What the fuck is this?
The voices grow stronger.
Pressing my palm against the cool stone to steady myself, horror spirals down into my gut.This is just like one of Mother’s episodes.
I shake my head, whether to refute the thought or to dislodge the voices, I don’t even know.
A vision hits me of my mother sitting at the kitchen table in a daze, staring at nothing. Speaking to ghosts.
Is this what it was like for her? Am I descending into madness now, too?
I lurch forward, determined not to give in to whatever this is. If I can just get to Killian’s rooms, maybe the voices will stop. Reality will reassert itself and I’ll feel normal again.
The path continues winding deeper into the bowels of the castle, but I reach what looks like a fork. I’m turned around and I suddenly can’t tell which path I’m supposed to take next. Pressing onward, I realize minutes later that I’ve started to descend instead of ascend to rooms. The air is stiff down here, musty with damp and age.
I stumble in the dark and my shoulder catches on something soft.
Heavy, dusty fabric collapses over me—a tapestry, ancient and faded. The whispers peak in a wild crescendo as the fabric slithers off me onto the floor.
My gasp echoes eerily against the cold stone walls.
Where the tapestry hung is a huge, intricate image carved directly into the stones—a woman astride a massive wolf, her face serene. Her head is adorned in an intricate crown composed of two direwolves leaping toward each other.
Vaguely, I recognize the style of the art is ancient. Very different from the other carvings and statues around the castle.It’s rougher, bearing subtle marks from the carver’s tools, yet no less elegant for it.
