“Shall we go to breakfast, Essy?” I ask.
A little line forms between her brows as she looks at me, as if she’d forgotten I was there.
“I’m not hungry just now, dear. I’m feeling quite tired.”
I hide a wince as she drifts over to a chaise. It’s been impossible to deny over the last few years—Etusca is fading. Her once vibrant green skin has become pale and mottled, and she’s unfocused, distracted, as if she’s living half in a dream. Like all the best healers in Trova, she’s a dryad from the nation of Agathyre, and every dryad suffers when they spend too long away from the dense, enchanted forest that dominates their homeland.
It's my fault.
I’ve lived to see my twenty-first year thanks to Etusca’s skill with viatic magic. I rely on the complex potion she brews that makes sure my weak body doesn’t fail, but twenty-one years is a long time for a dryad to be away from the Miravow. In the last few years, my once warm, affectionate nursemaid has become a shadow of herself.
I give her hand a squeeze and mutter something about bringing breakfast back for her. I’m not sure she hears me because she barely shifts as I slip out into the hall. I try to calm the ache of guilt in my heart. Etusca may be suffering because of staying here in Trova for me, but that will all change soon.
Things have been different at Gallawing lately since the old head of guards, Will, left and was replaced by a man called Marlowe. I never liked feeling stuck here, but at least when Will was in charge, the confinement felt safe. It doesn’t anymore. Ihaveto get out of here, and it has to happen soon.
And once I leave, Etusca will be free too. Without a charge to look after, she can go home, and we’ll both get what we want.
My footsteps echo across the flagstones of the manor corridors, made up of checkered marble of black and ivory. Occasionally, I’ll pass the silent sentinels of the guards, and they’ll slip into the shadows. They’re trained to be neither seen nor heard, to act as if I don’t exist, though I’m the very reason fortheirexistence, here in this echoey mansion.
A splash makes me freeze mid-step. I look down to see I’ve stepped in a small puddle of water on the polished floors. I search for the source, rain blown in from an open window maybe, but they’re all closed. My muscles stiffen as the water in front of me starts to bubble and froth, large droplets of it skidding across the floor of their own accord.
“Good morning, Bede,” I say through gritted teeth.
A rasping chuckle carries toward me as he steps into the corridor.
Sometimes the guards break the rules about interacting with me.
I take a step back under the guise of shaking the water from my shoe, but I keep an eye on him—specifically the distance between me and those big, clutching hands of his.
“Your handiwork, I suppose,” I say, trying to sound bored while nodding at the still-bubbling water.
He releases his magic, letting the puddle grow still.
“I had to get your attention somehow.”
I’m taller than average, so Bede doesn’t have much height on me, but he’s twice as wide as me and burly as a bull. His dull brown hair is cut brutally short, giving his face a kind of tight, stretched look. It makes the whites of his eyes and the sheen on his teeth stand out as he grins at me.
I resist the urge to shudder; he only enjoys it more when he gets a reaction from me.
“Congratulations, you successfully got me wondering who’d had a little accident. Next time, clean up after yourself.”
I lift my skirts to sidestep the water, head held high, but the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end, and my heart is jittery in my chest. I’ll need to pass him—turning and walking away would only confirm I’m afraid, and he’d like that too much. I keep my features still as stone, striding down the corridor toward him, my eyes anywhere but on his hungry expression.
I hold my breath as I come level with him, and for a fleeting moment I think he’ll let me pass without another word. Then his hand shoots out, catching my wrist.
I don’t fight it, no matter how badly I want to. The urge is there to drive a fist into his side, finally putting to use the training Will gave me. With the element of surprise on my side, I could wipe that smirk off Bede’s face, at least for a little while—and that would beimmenselysatisfying. Reckless and ultimately pointless, but oh so satisfying.
Instead, I give him a look that should burn holes into his skull—and maybe it would, if I could will myself into being an incendi, able to summon fire at will. Instead, I’m me—the broken girl too weak to ever conjure so much as a gust of air.
I try to stay calm, but that reminder of how little I have in my arsenal ramps my panic up a few notches. I’m not strong enough to fight him without magic.
“I’m surprised you’re not on the twilight shift, Bede,” I say. In fact, I thought I had Bede’s schedule memorized; it’s been crucial in avoiding him. “Isn’t that when Saronson runs his card game? Surely, you’d want to be there to thrash them instead of working a boring shift like this.”
It turns my stomach to play to his ego, but I know it’s smarter than angering him. I hate the tightrope I have to walk between being nice and standing firm, the one that could so easily snap and send me plummeting downward.
“Oh, I’d win a game against those morons alright.” He smirks. “But why would I pass up the chance to see you? Especially when we’ve had so little time together lately.”
His hot breath grazes my cheek, and once again I clamp down on my instinct to flinch away but my breath comes out louder than I intended. His satisfied smile tells me he knows how much I loathe him.
