“That makes sense. I think it’s just the terminology that throws me. I didn’t know about the Returned until I got here,” I say, forcing lightness into my voice.
Cora smacks a hand to her head. “Of course. You’re from the city, so you’re more familiar with the old term. You probably call them Deathless.”
The Returned are Deathless. She means all the people Evangeline Havenwood brought back to life are like the people from the story I heard at the Raining Star Bar.
My heart is pounding so hard, I’m worried she’ll hear it.
“Of course.” I smile brightly. “So this room will keep out Henry and Carter and Bryce.”
She nods and lowers her hands. “And lots more of them.”
I grip the poker in my hands tighter, fighting the urge to ask just how many blood thirsty predators I have been casually interacting with since coming to the fort. “Well, I apologize again for frightening you, Cora. I think I’ll treat myself to a stroll through the gallery, so I’ll leave you to your cleaning.”
She smiles. “Of course. You’ve had so much to learn in your new role married to the heir. I’m always happy to answer any questions.” She turns to her bucket of water and starts to wipe down the door handle.
I walk back into my bedroom with my heartbeat swooshing in my ears.
Run. The instinct is so strong, I can think of nothing but that.Run. But I can’t just sprint. It will attract too much attention. I need to go slowly and be smart.
I reach for my coat, then realize that wearing it will tip off anyonewho sees me that I’m planning to go outside. It’s best to just go as I am. I take a moment to swap my silk slippers for boots and tuck my blade into my right boot.
When I poke my head out of my room, Gaven is still not back from his snooping. I don’t want to leave him behind, but if I start poking around the recovery room looking for him, I know I’ll at least run into the guards there. Now that I know what goes on in there, I’m less inclined to explore.
I hustle down the hallway and descend the back stairwell to the first floor. If I go out the doors in the art wing, I’ll be closest to the cave entrance, but I’ll still have to sprint a couple of miles. With this much adrenaline pumping through my blood, that won’t be a problem.
The Kennymyra sculptures loom in the shadows. Their veils are back tonight, and they rustle as I walk briskly down the hall toward freedom. Just as the courtyard exit comes into sight, I hear voices from around the corner.
The gallery is the only door between me and my escape. I press my finger to the lock, and it clicks open. I duck inside and close the door, glimpsing the shifting painting across from the doorway in the second before it closes.
Backing into the room, I listen to the voices grow louder. Footsteps echo on the stone floor. Immediately, I recognize Henry’s voice. I hold my breath, watching as the shadows pass in the crack beneath the door.
I don’t allow myself to breathe again until a full minute after the hall has fallen silent.
The gallery is almost fully dark. The only light comes from pillar candles on a table a few feet in front of the gallery wall. In the dim light, the shifting paintings feel menacing. I turn and walk back to the door, pressing an ear against the wood to listen.
The second my ear presses flush, the wooden door draws away.
I nearly fall into the hallway, but Henry catches my arm.
He’s changed into sleek black pants and a dark red button-down. His hair is damp, hanging over his forehead. What was he doing that he needed to bathe after? Did he participate in the hunt?
I search for some sign of the monster within. When he grins, there’s no flash of sharp teeth, just the handsome, easy smile of the best liar I’ve ever met.
He looks at me and then over my shoulder into the gallery. “What are you doing here?”
My mouth goes so dry, and my brain bounces between explanations, all of them sounding too stiff in my head. “You told me to entertain myself until you came back. I stayed inside. What areyoudoing here?”
He steps into the room, ushering me inside with him. “I smelled you.”
“Smelled me?” My blood. He smelled my blood on the lock because I’m an idiot who didn’t wipe it clean.
Now I’m stuck. I have to stay. I have to pretend.
A cold sweat breaks out on my skin. I just need to calm down and it will be fine. He doesn’t know anything.
“It’s very dark for looking at art,” Henry says.
“That’s why I was leaving. I couldn’t find any more candles.”
