For a moment, I don’t feel his absence. My fingers remain curled, like they’re still wrapped around him. Then he hits the stone. I stare as the blood seeps from his skull, spreading across the floor like an encroaching army. His eyes look no different now. They’re still vacant and wide, as dark as any night.
And I’m still here. Still breathing.
“You’re hurt,” Taliesin says roughly, pressing a cloth against my neck.
I look up at him. He’s so close I can smell the woodsmoke clinging to his clothes. “What?”
“His blade nicked you.” His eyes rake across my face before settling on my eyes. “Are you all right? What was he saying to you?”
I swallow. And that’s when I feel the bite of pain in my throat. The rogue’s dagger must have cut me when Taliesin struck, but I didn’t notice it. I was too distracted by his ominous words and what they could possibly mean. Maybe nothing. Maybe it was only the nonsensical ramblings of a fanatic.
But deep down…I know there must be some truth to it.
“He said we must die because we carry what remains. And that killing us means the light will return.” I laugh bitterly. “I’m assuming he meant the stars.”
I expect shock or dismay or even skepticism. Instead, he looks ready to tear down the sky. “Two others tried to distract me while he got in here. Someone must have told the rogues about you.”
I frown. “All right, but didn’t you hear what I said? These people believe the stars will return if they kill us.”
“I heard you. I just didn’t think it warranted a response.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, still damp from the storm. “I think I know how they got inside. There’s a lower section of the cliff that connects to the mainland through a tunnel in aroundabout way. I didn’t think anyone knew about it. Or that they’d use it if they did.”
“Why not?” I ask warily.
“It floods. Sometimes.”
A knot of dread coils in my chest. “Right. And when you said we’d assess our options in the morning…”
“I had the tunnel in mind if the bridge is completely gone,” he says.
I rub my eyes as a wave of weariness rolls through me. I feel like I should be afraid, or at least alarmed, but a strange numbness has settled over me, muting every emotion. I don’t even flinch when Taliesin gently steers me to the hearth and eases me into the chair I didn’t use as a barricade.
“Rest here for now. Bryn will keep you company.”
A soft, warm weight lands on my lap. Absentmindedly, I stroke her fur with my unbound hand and stare into the flames. It isn’t long before the exhaustion claims me, dragging at my eyelids and seeping into my bones. I find myself drifting away, and this time, I don’t resist.
I wake with every muscle as stiff as timber, my neck bent at a painful angle. When I pry open my swollen eyes and take in the cold hearth, it takes me a moment to remember where I am and why someone else’s gray woollen socks are on my feet.
Then it all comes rushing back. I groan, thunking my head against the back of the chair. I didn’t leave the nightmare behind in sleep. It followed me here.
The socks, however, remain a mystery. They aren’t mine. I fought the rogue barefoot last night. I can still see the way hisblood crept across the floor toward my toes. Did Taliesin put them on me while I slept?
A flicker of warmth heats my chest, but I quickly smother it. Even if he covered my feet, he’s kept me chained. Frowning, I follow the line of the links to where they’ve been fastened to the chair, tethering me in place…so he wouldn’t have to watch me. And if he isn’t watching me, is he sleeping?
Is he still?
My heart pounds. If he’s dead to the world, maybe I can escape, even chained. I hold my breath and lean sideways, peering around the edge of the chair. The tapestry blocks my view of the bed, but there’s nowhere else he could be. I search the room for Bryn but see no other sign of life. If she’s here, she’s with Taliesin, but hopefully she’s out hunting for mice, or whatever it is pine martens eat.
I eye the chain fastened to the chair. He’s only looped it once in a crude knot that’s more of a hindrance than a real trap. A note of hope sings in my chest. Maybe escape isn’t impossible after all.
My fingers tremble as I ease the chain loose, inch by inch, careful to keep the links from clinking. Each tiny shift sounds deafening in my ears, though the room remains mercifully still. It falls free at last, pooling in my hands until I clutch it to my chest like something sacred.
I pause, scarcely daring to breathe, listening.
Nothing.
Slowly, I stand, my eyes locked on the tapestry. Still no movement.
I don’t dare wait any longer. Time to get out of here.
