Three days later, the carriage pulled up to Erst’s manor.A day of packing.A day of weeping over her mother’s still form.A day of lonely travel.The silence of the carriage felt like an extension of her own emptiness.
Erst and his mother, Lady Anit, waited on the front steps as the carriage came to a stop.In that moment, Ren’wyn’s last fragile hope was snuffed out like a candle in the night.
The crack that had been forming in her soul since Bier’s banishment widened, and a jolt of pain pierced her chest.It pressed against her ribs, her heart, her lungs, stealing her breath.
The footman handed her down, directing the servants as they unloaded the luggage.Lady Anit greeted her warmly, oblivious—or unwilling to believe—the truth of her son’s cruelty.
“You’ll make a lovely wife for my Erst,” Anit said, patting Ren’wyn’s hips.“I’m sure you’ll bear him plenty ofboys.”
Ren’wyn’s stomach recoiled at the implication.She would never truly be Erst’s.Part of her had already been given to Esrin.That piece, too, was gone now, stolen along with her hope.She swallowed down a wave of nausea.
In the solitude of her room, Ren’wyn locked the door and collapsed onto the bed, still in her riding clothes.Alone.Completely alone.The creeping darkness slithered over her, a cold, coiling thing made of icy hatred.Esrin had abandoned her.Her mother had abandonedher.
For a week, Erst prowled after her, seeking her out whenever she was alone.Ren’wyn buried herself in wedding preparations with Anit, spending time in the kitchen overseeing the cake and feast.When alone, she asked the maids to alter her clothing or took long tours of the estate with the steward.
On the eighth night, Erst tried to enter her room.She had braced the door with a chair, and though he had a key, the knob stuck on the furniture.Trembling beneath her covers, Ren’wyn felt something shift insideher.
He will never take me without a fight.
The darkness within her hardened, forming a jagged, writhing snake of anger.Hatred, bitterness, and defiance coiled together, writhing and hissing in her soul, a sharp contrast to her former blank despair.
Run,the snake hissed.
And so she began toplan.
Ren’wyn learned the names and routines of the servants, listening attentively as they spoke of their duties.She observed the guards, noting their rotations and the timing of their meals.During a tour of the estate, she discovered a crumbling section of the outer wall hidden from view during the guard changes.
One night, she tested her plan.Keeping to the shadows, she reached for the Void for the first time since school.Her will was weak, her power diminished from neglect, but she summoned the shadows to cloak her movements.They came reluctantly, sluggish and faint, but enough to mask her as she crept along the edge of the estate.
Ren’wyn reached the corner of the crumbling wall before releasing the shadows and walking casually back to the house, her pulse racing.No alarm sounded, and no one noticed her absence.
The next night, she prepared to escape.
After supper, while Erst smoked and checked on his hunting dogs, Ren’wyn returned to her room.She changed into a dark blue dress suitable for travel and packed a stolen satchel with bread, cheese, hair ties, and a thin blanket.The River Farro was a mile away through the woods.If she could cross it, she would seek refuge with her great-uncle, Lord Allwen.
Allwen had a history of taking in Erst’s cast-offs—maids discarded after bearing bastards and servants driven out by cruelty.If she could reach him, she might find sanctuary.
Ren’wyn descended the front steps as though she had not a care in the world, though her heart thundered like a drum.Sweat beaded on her brow despite the cool nightair.
The estate was quiet, the windows dark.The guards’ footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, but their rhythm gave her confidence.She reached the crumbling corner of the wall without incident and crouched low, pressing her hand to the cool stone.
Summoning every ounce of hatred and defiance within her, Ren’wyn reached for her magic.The Void answered slowly, reluctant at first, but her desperation fueled its pull.Shadows curled around her, thin and flickering, shrouding her movements as she climbed.
The rough stone scraped her hands, and she gasped sharply, but she didn’t stop.At the top, she swung her legs over and landed on the other side in a heap, dirt staining her dress.
For a heartbeat, she froze, listening for shouts or the sound of pursuit.Nothing.
Without looking back, Ren’wyn ran into the forest, the snake of anger hissing triumphantly in her chest.
5
The foreign terrain and suffocating darkness of night filled Ren’wyn with dread as she stumbled through the woods.The fragile shadows she’d summoned dissolved the moment she tripped, leaving her exposed.Rocks, half-hidden branches, and trailing brambles clawed at her legs, but she didn’t stop.Wild roses reached out with dark arms, tearing her sleeves, pants, and skin.As she faltered up a small rise, a hidden branch caught her right cheek, the sting of it followed by the slow, warm trickle of blood.
Ren’wyn knew enough to turn north toward the Farro River.The land sloped steadily upward, ending in a steep bank that dropped to the river’s edge.The Farro had a dangerous current—cold and unyielding no matter the season—but hope burned within her.Freedom beckoned from the other shore.
The mile had never stretched so endlessly in the dark, but rage kept her moving.The thought of Erst’s hands on her, the certainty of being violated, fed the raw, wounded thing inside her.Esrin’s abandonment stoked her burning anger to an inferno.She would not stay trapped.She would make her own freedom—or die trying.
Her legs trembled with fatigue, her lungs burned, and her power, weakened by months of neglect, remained feeble and distant.Her desperate plea to the heavens was that Erst and his men would be distracted long enough for her to gain a head start.
