At the end, Casimir sits in his own blood. It runs down his back in deep rivers of crimson. Flesh is peeled back to expose muscle, and I swear, I even see bone. How he even sits upright is beyond me.
It’s a strength I don’t think I could ever have.
The guard rolls up the whip and goes back to his place at the side of the room. Casimir doesn’t move. His breathing is loud and labored.
I push my seat backward.
Jeriko stands abruptly on the other side of the table, her chair raking across the polished tile like she can’t take another mundane second of this lifestyle, at least not after her embarrassment.
“Darling, don’t go.” My mother’s deep red lips press together, and her regret-filled gaze swallows me alive.
King Melic’s magic stifles our own. The powers of the king hold us to the room, keeping me from letting the abilities of the Wild Hunt sweep me away. I flatten my palms to the table, pushing myself up. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes are glassy as I lower to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“My brothers.” My voice is strained. I don’t bother to let my gaze meet each and every one of theirs. My eyes lock onto the sad look in Trill’s eyes. I memorize the unhappiness in his features. With another shaking breath, I grip Cameron’s hand and pull her from her seat while she shoves another bread roll into her mouth.
“Casimir,” I say as I reach for the doors.
He looks up, his mouth pulled down in pain and sweat dripping down his face.
“Thank you.”
He looks away, and I fear my heart might shatter.
Within seconds, I’m running. When I’m outside of the dining hall, I kick out of my damn heels that pinch at my feet and move even faster. Cameron hisses at my side, complaining that she isn’t so good at running. I don’t care if Nollix, Carver, or Jeriko follow.
I have to get out of the Dark Palace before it suffocates me.
5
Merrick
Then she vanishes.
Dinner comes to a pause as stunned faces watch Violence retreat from the room, her small gang of misfits following not far behind. My heart aches like it had three years ago, and I find myself somewhere between anger and grief. I stare at the doors, hoping for a minute that it is some sort of cruel joke, and her face will appear again.
It doesn’t. I am a fool for hoping my sister would stay.
Not even Casimir’s sacrifice could keep her.
She isn’t the same little girl I remember. That fire that was always within her, the one that inspired me to be good, to be something different than our father, isn’t so bright anymore. Her cheeks are hollower, her skin sallow, and bones all jutting. Does the Wild Hunt not eat?
Even dressed in the fine clothing of our court with the dirt cleaned from her skin and her hair brushed back, she stuck out like a sore thumb at the table. Somewhere between royalty and those commoners in the Wild Hunt.
Mother is still twisted in her high-backed chair, gaping toward the door. All color had drained from her face, making anger rise up inside of me like a growing tide. Violence doesn’t have to see our mother mourn her absence. But I do. I was the one who held her overnight for nearly a year when she cried after Violence was sent away. After that, I still caught her staring at the portrait of her daughter with dampened cheeks.
My glass hits the table with a light tap. The noise reminds every one that there is still dinner to eat, and they all turn back to their meals and pick up their discussions right where they were left off. A hum builds around the table, our guests not at all missed.
“That girl needs to be put on a leash. I thought the Wild Hunt would be just that,” Father grumbles to the lettuce at the end of his fork.
I push away from the table, my appetite gone. Mother turns to watch me, as does Basilus. Not another soul cares.
“Where do you think you’re going? Off to join their merry crew of soul snatchers?” Basilus taunts.
“It would be wise of you to speak kindly about our sister.” I halt my chase long enough to pin him with my most broody stare.
He grins back. “Fine, waste your time.”
Then I am forgotten, as Violence was. There is no one to chase after me.
