“And we will deal with him then,” Conquest adds. “But for now, we wait out the remaining cold weeks here, locked inside. When the first white bud of baneberry blooms near the Wishing Tree below your terrace, you will know that it’s safe to venture out.”
A fuzzy warmth fills me at the vision of dancing under sunlight while the leaves crunch underneath my bare feet. I take deep breaths, focusing on the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. I am ready to let go of the past. Lucy is alive. We both made it. That is more than I could hope for.
I pray she finds love someday and has a family of her own, far away from here. Perhaps we’ll meet again, or perhaps we won’t. But it’s enough knowing that my sweet sister was spared by the gods. I can live with that.
“I’m here,” I murmur into Death’s ear. “And I’m happy.”
He kisses my cheek. “Good.”
Famine tugs at my coat. “Now, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”
My belly flips as the four of them circle me, eyeing me hungrily. Death unties my corset, sending my gown rustling to the floor. I stand in the middle of them, naked and vulnerable.
Conquest holds up his hunting sack. “I have a gift for you.”
I take shallow breaths as War and Famine have already begun to play with my nipples. Death strokes the small of my back, his fingers inching dangerously lower. “You spoil me,” I murmur. “What have you brought me?”
He reaches into the sack and pulls out antlers from a white deer. “Your new crown.”
Those distant drums hum in my ears like a mating call. I feel the pull, the dizziness. Like a fever.
He places them on my head. “The stag gifted me with it. The gods should kneel toyou.”
This is sacred. A true blessing. I run my fingers along the smooth bone. “You honor me.”
The four of them kneel at my feet.My horsemen. I hold my head high with grace, embracing who I’ve become with dignity.
I used to believe that there were only two outcomes for girls—death or servitude. But they’ve proved me wrong. Girls become women who are worthy of love and loyalty, protected by ancient rites and vows made in blood, carved in symbols of moon and stars that can never be erased.
They can also become queens. But Lucy and I have done what no other girls from our village ever have.We’ve lived.
The Wild Hunt belongs to me now. And someday, after they’ve loved me until my last breath, they will etch my words into the headstone of my grave so that I may find my way back and reemerge from it again.
For I am Imogen Bishop.
And I survived.
Everyone is dead.
Imogen… Does this mean she lives? I peer out from my hiding spot. The front door to our cottage still singes with smoke. It was the iron cauldron that saved me. Fortunately, I’m tiny enough to fit inside. I climb out, covered in soot. My stomach knots as I gaze upon the charred corpses of Mama and Papa.
It all happened so fast…
First, there was a loud explosion. Papa bolted and barricaded the door before grabbing his knife. He stood in front of me and Mama. But the first fireball set the thatched roof ablaze.
The screams of my village came next. It was chaos.
“We are under attack,” someone screamed. “Imogen has cursed us,” another one shouted.
No, my sister would never do that. Not on purpose. The screams grew louder. The stench of burned flesh and feces filled the air, suffocating me with its foul odor.
Mama wrapped my face in a wet rag just before another fireball leaped into the cottage, landing in between us. “Get inside the cauldron,” Mama yelled. “Save yourself!”
I couldn’t reach them. We were surrounded by flames on all sides. I did as she told and cried myself to sleep inside the vessel that Mama cooked her stews in. I cried and cried and prayed for the gods to spare me.
But I don’t want to be alone. So then I prayed for death to take me too… And yet here I stand.
Outside, the smell of rotting flesh is palpable; it twists the bile in my gut. I have to swallow hard to keep it down.Be strong, Lucy.
