Chapter 8

8

Ella

Once the last of the manor chores were sorted, I rushed to bathe and throw myself together. Belle's absence stung as I dressed. For those few times a year when we visited the fair or festivals, she'd always helped with my makeup and hair. She would've known how to make me look pleasing to the eye but not draw too much attention. As it was, I'd have to make do on my own. Fates knew my stepmother wouldn't help.

With dusk drawing near, I put on the finishing touches and followed the old wagon road into town with Pip riding on my shoulder for confidence. He might gain me a few odd stares from the villagers, but I was used to it. Each stride I took toward the castle brought me one step closer to peril, and one step closer to Belle.

Our path took me through the outskirts of Lower Town with its humble and run-down houses. Many of the castle staff came from here, where there weren't enough jobs to go around. I followed the old stone bridge across the river to Upper Town. The difference was night and day. The nicely cobbled streets were flanked by pristine townhouses, flowered squares, and bustling markets. Pip sat up and chittered longingly as we passed a delicatessen with enormous wheels of cheese in the window.

"Sorry, buddy. Not today."

The stone and plaster homes grew larger and more resplendent as I drew nearer to the castle, and I quickly realized how small and insignificant our little manor was—barely a manor at all.

I'd only been on this side of the river a handful of times before and felt entirely out of place. The gentlemen of the town wore conservative suits, while the ladies dressed in flowing modern styles tailored to follow their curves with scandalous precision.

My dress felt dull and plain and more common than it ever had. Good , I told myself. The last thing I wanted to do was stand out or draw attention, especially after last night. The immortals needed to see me as competent and reliable, but also forgettable.

I touched the light blue silk scarf I'd wrapped around my head to conceal my silver hair, making sure it was still in place. I hated the idea of having to hide a part of me away, but it was always the first thing people saw—that and my lavender eyes, which I could do nothing about.

I muttered a little prayer beneath my breath, begging the Fates that the dark rider wouldn't be there. He'd recognize me on the spot, and I didn't need any trouble.

I headed up the wide, winding carriageway that led up the hill to the castle gates, my gaze fixed on the white towers and crenelated walls looming above the rooftops. Castle Silverthorn had always seemed enormous from far away, but now it was oppressive. I shuddered. The people in Upper Town must have felt like the immortals were always watching.

As I rounded the corner of the last switchback, I stopped short in surprise. A line of at least a hundred milling people wrapped around the base of the castle, leading up to the gate. I'd never seen so many people anywhere except at the fair.

Were they all here to apply? Of course they were—times had been hard lately, with poor weather for the crops influencing the lives of those less fortunate.

My chances of getting hired were slimming by the second.

It doesn't matter , I said to myself. They'll hire you because you'll work harder than any of them. You just have to find a way to show it.

The castle was far more intimidating up close. The walls had been constructed of carefully hewn and fitted limestone blocks that probably weighed ten times as much as I did. A half dozen spires pierced the ruddy sky. Who inhabited the rooms behind the glittering balconies?

I plucked Pip off my shoulder and slipped him into my shoulder bag. "You might want to keep a low profile for a moment. I'm not sure they have any openings for rats."

I fell in at the back of the line and glanced up at the sun. It was low, minutes away from setting, and I cursed myself for not getting there sooner. Other applicants were still arriving, so at least I wasn't going to completely bring up the rear. I leaned against the stones and eavesdropped on the conversations of a cluster of three girls next to me. Some spoke eagerly of work in the castle, others of gossip from the town.

A blonde with an expensive dress and Upper Town accent leaned in close to her friends. "I've heard they're going to demand a blood tithe from each successful applicant this year."

My blood went cold. Could it be true? Would I be forced to pay it if I worked there?

The blood tithe was an ancient tradition. The immortals protected our village and lands, and in return, they could drink from any human they wished, whenever they wished. The only rules were that they were not allowed to drink one of us to death, and we couldn't be made to pay the tithe twice in a week.

It was little protection or comfort. Some of the girls from town had said that the immortals would drink from you until you went weak in the knees.

I dug my fingers into my palm. If paying the tithe was what it took to get Belle back, I'd pay it a hundred times over. She was all that mattered.

"I heard it's not so bad," another girl said, brushing ringlets of auburn hair from her shoulders. "Enjoyable, even."

I raised my brows skeptically. The way I saw it, chickens didn't like to get eaten, so there was no way getting bitten by one of those monsters was going to be anything but pain.

"So, you'd let them feed on you if they demanded it, then?" the blonde asked.

"Probably." The girl with auburn hair glanced at a trio of bloodsuckers exiting the main gate on horseback. "I mean, if it was one of those lords, could you blame me?"

I followed her gaze, and to my relief, the dark rider wasn't among them. Was one of them the blond-haired man from the night before? They didn't even spare us a glance…but then they wouldn't. They were handsome, ageless, and poised, and infinitely above our station.

Yet none of the three came even close to the flawless beauty of the dark rider. I could almost feel those pale eyes burning through me again, and shivers prickled my skin. What would it be like to pay the tithe to him?

Cruel, cold pain.

He was a predator. A heartless, frigid statue. Not a man. Not a creature capable of giving pleasure.

Yet my dream had been so, so different…

"What are you gawking at, peasant?" the blonde snorted. "You think one of those lords would even look at you?"

I started, jolted from my thoughts, and glanced back at her.

Her lips curled in a disdainful smirk. "What are you even doing here? I don't think there are any open positions for pig farmers in the castle."

Her friends laughed, and my neck heated. Their condescending expressions were all too familiar.

I raised my chin. "I'm from a manor."

"How quaint," the girl with auburn hair said, then turned to her friend. "She's from the country. I doubt she's ever seen one of the lords before, let alone running water."

"You'd better hope you don't get a job," the blonde said, not taking her eyes off me. "You wouldn't last a week."

I opened my mouth to retort, but someone touched my arm and pulled me away. "Don't mind those three. They're just bitter because they keep getting rejected every year." I looked over in surprise, and a brunette about my age smiled back at me. "Why don't you join us?" She nodded toward a broad-shouldered man just a little further back in line.

As I let her lead me away, the blonde called after, "They're going to eat you both alive!"

"Is this your first time to the castle?" the brunette asked.

I forced a sheepish grin. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just a bit. The big eyes gave it away, not to mention that far-off look, like you might be imagining what it would be like to have one of those lords for yourself." She winked as we fell in line beside her male friend.

Heat rushed over my face. "It's not that. I just don't have much experience with immortals, let alone the castle or court. Have you ever been inside?"

"Once, when I applied last year. I was rejected, obviously—but if at first you don't succeed, sign up to be humiliated a second time. Or a third, like those Upper Town girls."

I looked over my shoulder. "I'm used to their type, but thanks for stepping in."

"Of course." She gestured to herself, then to the man beside her. "I'm Cara, and this is Teagan."

The man tipped his head forward. "This is my first time applying, so you're not the only one." He had strong features, curly black hair, and looked like he could lift a wine barrel over his head.

"I'm Ella," I said. "And I'm relieved I'm not the only one who has no idea what I'm in for. Do you both live here in town?"

"Lower Town," Cara said with a little pride—like being from Upper Town was something to be ashamed of, even though they were the ones with all the money. She gave Teagan a coy look. "I've known this ox since we were kids. He's the best blacksmith around."

Despite the teasing, there was admiration in her tone.

Teagan's cheeks reddened. "I'm ordinary. Cara, on the other hand, is the most promising dressmaker's apprentice in town. There'll be many disappointed ladies from Upper Town when she gets selected today."

She rolled her eyes. "I wish. If the mistress had more clients, I wouldn't be in this line. But I can't lie—I do like the idea of better pay. Or any pay, really."

" Hazard pay," Teagan said. "There's a reason they have new openings every year."

Cara shrugged. "It's worth the risk. I need the money for my family, and with the ball coming up in a few weeks, this might be my best shot. They'll need someone who can work on dresses and do last-minute alterations." Cara turned to me. "What's your skill?"

"My skill?" I faltered, looking around. Many of the applicants held evidence of their work. Cara had a green silk dress folded in her arms, while others had baskets of baked goods, clothing, and a wide variety of items that they'd probably made to show off their skills. It began to sink in how immensely inadequate I was, and a knot of worry twisted in my stomach. I had no expertise at anything and was woefully unprepared for the application. If I'd had more time, maybe I could have come up with something, but as it was, it had been a scramble to even get to the castle on time.

I licked my parched lips. "I'm not sure, really. I've taken care of my father's manor since he…left when I was a girl. I take care of the livestock, tend the horses, clean the house, mend the clothes, cook, and bake and even brew beer. It's a little of everything, so I guess my skill is…multitasking?"

Instead of giving me a pitying look, as I'd expected, Cara's face brightened. "I'm jealous. I just sew and mend dresses all day. I could never run a manor or manage all those things. I'm sure they'll be able to use you."

I wasn't so sure.

"I didn't realize how many people were going to apply," I said as we neared the main gate. "Or how stiff the competition would be."

I should have realized, though, given the poverty of Lower Town.

Cara squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry. There's no knowing who they'll select. I'm sure with your experience, you've got a fair shot."

More like a long shot. And if I failed, I'd prove my stepmother's doubts right, and there'd be no one to help Belle.

I took a deep, determined breath and set my intentions. They will hire me. They'll see my value.

The line began moving more quickly as it disappeared through the gateway. A pair of sentries flanked the entrance, their halberds raised, while others roughly shoved the applicants into a single-file line as they passed through.

I clutched my shoulder bag close to me and followed the stream of apprehensive applicants beneath the entrance, praying that no one would want to inspect its contents.

A bloodsucker with a dark uniform tallied us as we stepped into the noisy courtyard, regarding us with a mixture of suspicion and disdain. He sneered at me and licked his bottom lip.

Hurrying my pace, I adjusted the scarf I'd wrapped over my hair. This was definitely not the day to draw that kind of attention.

More than a hundred people filled the vast courtyard. Soldiers with bayonetted muskets patrolled the perimeter. Did they expect a riot?

Outside of the castle guard, it was illegal for humans to own firearms—not that they would be effective against the immortals, who reportedly could heal from nearly any kind of wound. The ban was just another symbol of who was in control here.

Dozens of courtiers had gathered on an open gallery above to watch the spectacle like a row of colorful statues.

"I've never seen so many lords and ladies before," Cara whispered nervously. "It must be because of the upcoming ball."

My stomach swam in a wave of nausea. "Does it remind you of something?"

"A theater show?" she mused.

"I was thinking a meat market."

Shock tightened Cara's soft features, while Teagan cleared his throat and stepped closer. "What a strange analogy, Ella. Perhaps you might keep those to yourself, as I'm sure you're aware of how keen of hearing our masters are."

I blinked at him twice, then my chest constricted.

Of course. The immortals were supposed to have razor-sharp senses. A whisper was probably like shouting.

Teagan and Cara lived in Lower Town and brushed shoulders with the bloodsuckers from time to time, so they'd probably learned at an early age that survival meant keeping a low profile and blending into the background.

And keeping your stupid mouth shut.

I kept my eyes fixed on the ground as we shuffled into the courtyard, praying none of the courtiers had heard—at least not those making the decisions.

Cara touched my arm and whispered, "Look at the wall."

I followed her gaze, and my blood turned to ice.

The battered corpse of a male dangled from the castle wall. A wooden spike with a rope had been rammed through his chest and out the other side, like a toggle popped through a buttonhole. His hands were missing, and his body looked like it had been mauled by a wild animal.

A knot blossomed in my throat. It was my attacker from last night.

"Do you think he was a thief?" Cara asked, her voice vibrating with suppressed horror.

"He was an immortal."

She glanced at me in surprise. "Are you certain?"

Although he was bloody and tattered, I'd never forget the face of my attacker. His head drooped down, his expression frozen in horror, his eyes wide and lifeless.

Teagan nodded. "That explains why they didn't hang him on the outer walls. I doubt they'd want to advertise they can be killed to the general public."

"But why would they do that to one of their own kind?" she asked.

Teagan leaned in, pitching his voice even lower. "There've been rumors. A half dozen people have gone missing in the last week. One of the other apprentices told me that a farmer out west even had his limbs torn off, but that could be a wild rumor. Still, something has been happening, and it's been hushed by the royals. Perhaps it was this fellow."

And I'd been alone with him in the woods last night, one moment away from being ripped apart.

My corset suddenly felt like it was crushing my ribs.

Cara watched me with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It's just—I've never seen anything like that," I said, keeping my voice low to hide my rising panic.

"There's no way a man did that to him," Teagan said. "It had to be something from the woods. A monster."

My heart felt like it was going to break through my chest. Had I met that monster? Had he ridden a black stallion and looked through me with those relentlessly cruel eyes?

Did that monster know my name?

I shuddered. The fact that I was still alive was proof that the Fates were looking out for me—or at least they had been last night.

Today was an entirely different matter.