I'm infuriated.
With the coyness of a viper, she advances."But I have the rest of our lives to prove to you that we could be good for each other.You, however, are on a tight schedule. Are you not?"
My shoulders feel like heavy, craggy boulders as they roll back, chest heaving. I glance at Fox.All she does is shrug, seeming irritated and quite impatient about our many setbacks so far, and possibly, what it foreshadows for the rest of our endeavors.
Renee, however, waits with the patience of a high-noon sun.
She thinks she’s winning this ultimatum.
She has no clue how little she’s holding over me.
“Stand aside, Renee.” Snatching one of Fox's hands into my own, the nubs of her fingers crooked in my palm only fortifying my resolve, I press forward. My shoulder knocks into Renee and she staggers back.
"Hey!" she wails, catching herself on the doorknob and averting crashing to the floor completely. "Where are you going?"
"Do what you want, Renee," I call over my shoulder, not deigning to turn back toward her. "Tell my father, or don't. He'll find out soon enough and I'll receive whatever punishment he sees fit, or I won't. Regardless, you have bigger problems."
Outside the dingy dungeon, the first breath of fresh air aches in my lungs. I take a cautionary look around the courtyard. Still empty, thank the gods.
"What problem?" Renee asks, and I can hear her scrambling to her feet to stand tall, to pretend that my rejection wasn't a complete blow to her ever-growing ego.
"My father." Behind me, she falls silent. "He's rather observant, you know. Especially of the ones he keeps tabs on. By now, I'm sure he's noted my absence and he’s beginning to wonder where I am. It'll prompt questions, and once his mind begins, it won't stop until it has answers."
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Renee rolls her eyes. "I’m not really sure what you’re trying to imply, but—"
"I'm implying nothing. I speak factually. My father has already started looking for clues regarding my absence. He'll noticeyou'remissing too. And once he discovers my aunt has been freed, he'll put two and two together. He'll assume I was behind it and that you were involved, and whatever punishment he bestows upon me, I'm sure yours will be tenfold."
Finally, her porcelain mask cracks. Horrified eyes blink back at me as she tucks a strand of orange hair behind her ear.
With nothing left to say, Fox and I leave her. Before we’re even out of earshot, I hear her scurrying back to the frontlines to rejoin the others.
I just hope her delay won’t be held against her…but I can’t clutter my mind with that concern now.
Once we're back inside the castle, I feel the pressure of our dwindling seconds. The Hunt is about to begin. There is only a limited time before my father shifts his attention to me, and it won't take him long to figure out where to find me.
In the interest of avoiding running into any servants, we take the longest, most untraveled route. It was one thing to be spotted earlier when I was still alone, but now that I'm gallivanting around with a woman draped in burlap who reeks of her own urine, there would be no avoiding their questions. Half of them have likely already seen or heard of Fox. They'd know I'd broken free a prisoner.
Fortunately, thanks to the festivities taking place outside, most of the servants are preoccupied and therefore our journey through the narrow, twisting halls goes uninterrupted.
We reach the first room without incident. Using the secret compartment in the wall that I was told about to twist the lock on the hidden door handle and enter.
It's only been a few months since I last saw my…I’m not sure whether they’d be my nephews or my cousins, but the last time I saw them was the day they were brought into my father's possession.
They'd been thin, of course. Which human struggling to survive in this realm wasn't? But they'd also been bright-eyed and healthy, even as terrified as they were to be led through the castle in Neveridge, even after being taken away from their mother, I could see the life in both of them. They had felt true joy.
Until my father crumbled their world to pieces.
The blond boy we find inside the room, curled into a ball like a cat desperate to clutch onto what little body heat it can produce, can no longer be described as thin. He is barely more than bones. The joints of his body are gnarled, the skin stretched over them unnaturally taut, like someone took him apart, stole all of his meat, and then pieced him back together again.
He's so weak, he can hardly lift his head up to see us. But he's so frightened that he musters the strength.
How many times has my father come in here to bleed him? Or sent one of his other guards to have a taste? And to what gain? Just to torment him and their mother? With me as the exception, my father doesn’t allow anyone to keep humans around for habitual feeds. He doesn’t think it’s worth the risk of creating more ghouls, and doesn’t trust the Crimson Guard not to be careless.
So why change his rules to torture little boys?
Rage is a small flame compared to the hatred that roils within me. But I stand guard at the door as Fox races to the small boy’s side, arms spread wide.
It takes the child a moment to register us, eyes heavy-lidded, perception skewed by bloodloss.
