A quiet shuffling sounds off in my room. Enough of a distraction that I lift my heavy head and make out something lying on the floor.
A letter.
I snag it a few tiles away from my door. Opening the wax seal on the back stamped with an A, I find a familiar handwriting.
Lyra,
It’s only for twenty-four hours. I am so sorry. I promise you it is outside of my control. Do not drink whatever Lady Bethany gives you.
Folding the letter closed, I tuck it underneath my mattress. Then turn my attention back to the bathroom. From this angle, I can see the vial on the counter and a sliver of mirror.
I take a seat on the window bench and lean against the windowpane, the sunlight heating my cheek.
Twenty-four hours.
I suppose under any other circumstance I should be delighted with sitting by myself in the quiet. Staring out at the endless landscape beyond the castle grounds. But as I stare, I follow the tops of the Serahaven mountains down to the waterfalls, then the lake collected below Vitalis. The pristine shine to the bridges, the courtyard pavers.
Odd, considering…
The pain in my skull flashes again into a steady beat.
Pound.
Pound.
I pull my head back from the window, staring at one paver in particular set into a pathway. Different from all the others that it sticks out like a sore thumb.
It’s colorless. Rugged and misshapen.
Flashes of yesterday’s trials course through me. Of crawling through red-stained dirt. Of women’s bodies collapsing on the ground, arrows protruding from their bodies.
I try to think of something else.Of flowers.
Bursts of blue roses and rolling black hills. Beauty and serenity. A song drifts up from my subconscious again, and I hum it aloud to try and pin it down. Once I’ve caught the melody, my heartbeat picks up pace. Because as I stare at that imperfect paver, humming the distant song, I remember.
Vitalis was destroyed a long time ago.
King Aaric had utterly ruined the castle grounds once he took the throne. And yet…every which way I look, it’s a breathtaking view. Pristine. Perfection. Just like the old paintings I had seen back in Kilamber.
As the pounding in my head lightens, I tap against the window, waiting for the landscape beyond to change. Closing my eyes, I continue humming, and when I open them, I expect a new panorama. But instead, all is as I saw it before.
Except…the one paver is gone. Replaced by a perfectly uniform one, that I can no longer tell where I had seen it in the pattern prior.
Gods above.
What if I am truly sick?
A tapping snaps my eyes open. I lift off the cold windowpane. My room is drowning in shadow, and a chill settles over my skin.
It’s night. And yet…I don’t remember falling asleep. But the pain in my head is gone.
Another tap, and I jump as I find a silhouette at the window. On the other side.
My eyes meet dark ones, and my mouth drops open.
Marcella?
Her eyes narrow, and she motions to the bottom of the window frame impatiently. Scrambling up from the window seat, I slide my fingers along the bottom of the frame. Knowing well that when I first woke here weeks ago, I searched for a latch but found nothing. She points down at a specific spot. Following her direction, I run my hands up and to the left side of the window to where there’s a hidden latch. I open it.
