I’m here, mikros.
I winced as pain lanced across the underside of my foot, and I blinked.
Unfamiliar forests surrounded me. When had I stood? When had I left the tree or the creekside?
I lifted my foot to find blood rolling down the underside before dripping to the stone I’d sliced it on. A branch snapped in the darkness, and my heart lurched in my throat as I looked around.
“Ma—” I grimaced, clutching my throat as pain shot through me, erupting into a coughing fit.
Mama?
Hands grabbed me from the darkness, muffling the scream that tore from my throat.
5
BARRETT
Ibraced myself against the edge of the basin, water rolling down my face to drip into the pool. Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sting of the cut above my brow had nearly vanished with the help of Lucia’s salve, but the dull headache from the hangover still lingered, pulsing behind my eyes. I desperately needed to feed.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and it was the first time in Gods knew how long that I’d looked upon myself, upon the eyes I hated so much.Hiseyes.
A spark ignited within me at the sight of them, of the painful reminder. The flame pressed against its confinement in my body, and I tightened my grip on the basin to keep from smashing my fist into the glass.
I ran my fingers through my wet blond hair, far too long for my liking after my imprisonment. Daily baths weren’t exactly a privilege where I had been kept, and I might have spent a bit longer than I should have in the baths of the barracks. Grabbing a freshly sharpened blade, I began cuttingaway at the unwanted growth. It wasn’t perfect when I finished, the sides and back shaved close with the top longer and swept back, but for the first time in decades, I almost felt like myself. I ran my hand over my freshly shaven jaw, finally clear of the faint beard that had grown back from the last time I’d burned the hairs away, when I’d had a chance to expel some magic during my imprisonment.
The gold chain bracelet clinked against the porcelain water basin, and I lifted my hand to see it better. A message in the old language was engraved in fine handwriting on the thin gold pendant. The mere sight of it brought forth memories of her. It had been far too long since I’d last heard her voice. I missed the sound of it, of her laughter.
“Cali...” I whispered, running my fingers over the delicate chain.
“Sneaking off again?” I called from where I sat on the window seat as she tiptoed down the stairs.
She stiffened and turned toward me hesitantly. A guilty smile crawled across her face, and she fiddled with one of her blonde curls, something she always did when she was up to no good. “Not at all. I was going for a walk through the gardens.”
“At night?” I said, arching a brow as I set my book to the side.
She sidestepped, and the way she chewed her lip was all I needed to know she was full of it. “The jasmine should be blooming. I wanted to see them.”
“Uh huh. It didn’t seem that was where you snuck off to last night.” I rose from the bench, my book forgotten. “That aside, I have something for you. I wanted to give it to you, but I got in late from training and didn’t want to wake you up. Since you’re awake, though...”
Her blonde brows rose as I pulled a box from my pocket. “My birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“Yeah, and we both know Mother has plans to whisk you away to be presented to the aristocracy. I’m afraid I won’t get to see you.”
Something akin to uncertainty flitted across her face, and I didn’t blame her for it. We weren’t their beloved children, weren’t prized for the reasons we should be. We were tools, objects for our parents’ benefit, our sole purpose being to strengthen their influence and power.
“You’re probably right. It’s all she’s talked about for months,” she said, her voice smaller than it should ever be, not like the child I once watched run through flower fields, singing at the top of her lungs. “Uncle Atticus and Aunt Jissena have helped with the planning as well. I don’t like how Jissena fawns over me like some pet.”
Atticus. I had never liked him. He was entirely too involved in Father’s dealings, and I feared he knew the truth of what happened behind closed doors—feared he didn’t care.
“I wanted to gift you this,” I said, extending the box to her again. “Because there’s no telling if we’ll get any alone time tomorrow.”
A soft smile tugged at her lips. “You’ve never been fond of audiences.” She took the box and lifted the lid to reveal a delicate gold chain bracelet.
“Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful,” she whispered and lifted it from the satin bedding to inspect it closer. Etched into a delicate gold plate was a message written in the old language.
Tears welled in her eyes as she read it. “I love it.”
