Chapter 10

O ver the next couple of days, we fall into a grim routine. Every morning I meet with Wilson and I'm taken to work in the underground room with Vaeril. After that, I get cleaned up and I'm escorted to another meal in the great hall where, inevitably, several ladies lose their lives. The second evening there were noticeably less people who attended, and the next morning those who were absent were executed along with their escorts. No one missed the meal after that.

After that first invitation, no one has refused to eat the chocolate and a sort of hierarchy has been established. There's a group of six women who seem to be favoured by the prince, plus their fathers are close with the king, or they provide the kingdom with some great service that keeps them in favour. Aileen and I stick close together and socialise with others as little as we can get away with, but I know her father is taking the prospect of his daughter dying hard, and he gets quieter each time we see him.

Once Wilson has escorted me back to my room, I lock myself in and pray to the Mother that I will make it through another day. Some evenings I escape to the courtyard, and I feel bad that I haven't told Wilson about this, but I don't want to get him dragged into trouble if it all goes wrong. Plus, I know he would want to come with me, and we are much more likely to be caught if there are two of us. I don't visit Tor every evening, since I don't want people to get suspicious, but those nights I don't visit him, I'm plagued with thoughts and visions of him being caught. I also haven't seen Jacob since the day he took me to the courtyard and warned me about his brother. I fear for the kind prince who made me feel special, and the longer I go without seeing him, the more I worry, my dreams insisting that he's in trouble, desperately calling my name for help.

"You look tired today," Vaeril comments from the forge, pulling my attention over to him. I've been down here for several hours now and he's been very quiet, hardly saying a word to me, but he's been watching me, his gaze heavy on my back as I scrub the floors. Looking up from my task, I raise my eyebrows, seeing that he's much closer than I expected.

"You're not supposed to say that to a lady, it's insulting," I quip, not in the mood for insults today. I'd been up most of the night pacing my room, worrying about Tor and the children he's helping escape. We haven't had a chance to talk about my past since that first evening, since more and more families have been coming to us for aid. Sooner or later we are going to have to stop. The missing servants will be noticed, and the guards and priests will start monitoring people's movements more.

Vaeril is silent for a few moments as he takes in what I just said, his brow furrowed. "But you're not a lady."

"Charming!" I bark out a laugh, shaking my head and returning to my work. I know he doesn't mean to insult me, he just took my statement literally—that I am, in fact, not a lady. Again, silence falls over us, just the sounds of the fire roaring in the forge and the scrape of my brush against the floor ringing in the large space.

"Did I offend you?" His voice is much closer this time, and when I look up, I find him only a few steps away. He's wearing a questioning expression as he watches me closely.

"No, not really," I reply with a shrug, and groan at the ache between my shoulders. Dropping my brush with a sigh, I roll my neck, trying to work out the tight muscles. "You're right, I am tired. I've been having nightmares."

Since I'm still looking up, I catch the pained expression that crosses his face, but it's gone in a minute and his usual blank mask is in place once again. For a moment, I don't think he's going to say anything, and instead shut down like he usually does when we have a conversation about anything even vaguely personal.

"I understand the horror of nightmares."

I pause in my stretching and look over at him in surprise. "You get them?"

"Every night," he replies with a slight nod, his face grave now. I feel bad for bringing it up, I hate seeing his face like that.

Wait, when did I start having feelings like that for an elf? I question, realising I would be upset if anything happened to him. Are we friends? That is a startling revelation. Sitting back on the hard floor, I frown as I try to work through my thoughts. Why is the prospect of being friends with the elf bad? Because he is supposed to be my enemy? Down here, when I am as much of a prisoner as he is, things like race don't seem to be important anymore. I'm very aware he is dangerous, but I'm not afraid of him anymore. Not to mention he could have left without you as soon as you broke the spell on those cuffs, but he didn't. He's waiting for you. I reach up and rub at the ache in my chest, blowing out a pent-up breath and wishing my life hadn't become so complicated.

"When are we leaving?" he queries, as if he can sense my thoughts. "It's getting harder for me to pretend that I don't have magic, it gets stronger every day."

Guilt rolls through me again. I know I can't keep making him wait, it's not fair, but something is holding me back, I just wish I knew what it was.

"Soon. Something big is coming, I can feel it." That is the only way I can think to explain it, and I don't expect him to understand—barely do. "I promise."

The heavy pause between us is thick with tension, and I expect him to put up a fight, but he just nods and goes back to his work. Letting out a deep breath, I return to cleaning the floors, looking up and watching him occasionally. I enjoy seeing him work, the way the light from the fire glistens off his muscled back. He's scarred in places, and his tattoos cover large swathes of skin.

I want to trace those tattoos with my tongue. I startle myself with that thought and drop my brush in surprise. I've never had thoughts like that before, especially not about Vaeril. Is that such a bad thing? A hot blush covers my cheeks and I duck my head, focusing on the spot of dirt I'm struggling to remove.

The next couple of hours pass in silence, and as the guards mete out my daily beating, our eyes meet and I see the heavy, knowing look Vaeril gives me.

Soon. We will escape soon.

"I don't know how much longer we can keep it up," Jayne tells me, as she helps me into my evening gown. I know what she's saying, that we won't be able to aid many more servants and their children.

"I know," is all I say in reply, feeling sick to my stomach that I can't do more.

The guards have already rounded up a few children to be slaves, and I've overheard ladies talking about some of their older friends who have the awful decision to make regarding which child will to go to the kingdom. I wish I could help them all, both the children of the servants and the nobility, but I just don't trust that the nobility wouldn't turn me in out of loyalty.

"I heard a rumour in the kitchens that several servants and their families have disappeared," Jayne says quietly. We are being more careful with our words, even in my own rooms, as there are ears everywhere. "They say they are just disappearing in the night, and that the guards are patrolling the hallways and security has been upped. For our own protection of course," she continues, brushing my magicked golden locks and pulling them back with a sapphire pin.

"Of course," I respond, watching her through the mirror, exchanging a look.

A knock at the door pulls her attention away and she goes to answer it. Taking in my reflection, I stand and straighten the skirts on my dark blue dress. The dress itself is quite plain, a simple style apart from the beautiful golden detailing on the band that cinches in my waist.

Hearing Wilson's voice, I leave my room and see that his usual bright smile is tight, and standing just behind him in the doorway is Aileen. She looks beautiful in her blue and green dress, her auburn hair tumbling down her back, but her gaze is weary and I don't miss the dark marks under her eyes that she's tried to hide with makeup.

"Aileen, I hadn't expected to see you here," I greet with a confused smile. I don't usually see her until we meet in the hall, so something must have happened for her to be here with Wilson.

"Yes, Wilson is going to escort both of us tonight. My father refused to come, we had a big fight." For a second, I think she's going to cry, but she shakes her head and takes a deep breath, smiling at me. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not!" Walking over to her, I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it in my own. I know how close she is with her father, and for him not to be here with her tonight must be hard. Giving me a grateful smile, she squeezes my hand back.

"Right, ladies, let's get this over with," Wilson announces, offering us each an arm, which we take before exiting the room with a quick goodbye to Jayne.

We walk in silence, and the closer we get to the hall, the tenser the atmosphere between us grows. As we leave the residential part of the castle, we come across a servant whose eyes widen when she sees me. Hurrying out of the way, she falls to her knees and bows her head.

"Beloved," she murmurs reverently as we pass. This has been happening more frequently, and I don't know where it has come from. What is Jayne telling them? They are treating me like royalty. I can feel the surprise of the others, but they hold their tongues until we pass the servant.

"What was that about?" Aileen asks quietly, her eyes wide.

"I did something to help a couple of servants, and now some of them do this," I answer vaguely. It makes me uncomfortable, both what the servants are doing and that I can't tell Wilson what's going on. He knows something is happening, but I need him to be safe.

The look she gives me tells me she knows I'm not telling the whole truth, but she nods and faces forward again as we continue onward.

Entering the hall, I note that it looks the same as it has the last few nights, but the atmosphere is different. Everyone seems to be on edge, sipping wine as they gaze around nervously. We get quite a few looks as Wilson guides the two of us in and leads us over to one of the corners where we will have more privacy. We must be later than usual, because just as we start to look around, the steward bangs his cane and announces the king and the princes, Rhydian and Michael. Still no Jacob. I've not seen him in over a week now and it's worrying me.

Once the royals are settled, the musicians start playing and couples drift into the centre of the room to dance.

The evening goes as all the others have, several lords I have met over the last few evenings come over to greet us, making small talk to fill the time. I'm sipping from my glass when Aileen's eyes go wide and Wilson steps closer to me as a shadow falls over us.

"Your Highness," Aileen says quickly, dipping into a curtsy. My breath catches in my chest as I turn to see who is behind me—Rhydian. Following Aileen's example, I quickly drop into a curtsy.

"Prince Rhydian," I greet, and as I stand, I keep my eyes low, but I can feel his amusement.

"Lady Clarissa, Lady Aileen," he replies, his smile wide, before he turns to the mage at our side. "Wilson."

Wilson stiffens, and I know he's been insulted by the greeting, but he can't say anything in return without putting us at risk. I've seen ladies being killed this week for smaller faux pas than that. I squeeze his hand in support, and he stands a little taller, squeezing my hand in return. Rhydian sees this and chuckles, knowing he's gotten under the mage's skin. Turning his attention to Aileen, he narrows his eyes.

"Lady Aileen, I'm surprised your father isn't here this evening." The words are innocent, but the threat is clear. They expect him to be here and they have noticed his absence, this will not be tolerated again.

"Yes, unfortunately my father is ill and unable to attend. Mage Wilson kindly offered to escort me," she says smoothly, and if I didn't know it was a lie, I would believe her. The prince slides his gaze to Wilson, his eyes travelling up and down before darting back at Aileen.

"How kind of him," he sneers. "I hope your father recovers quickly, we wouldn't want him to miss tomorrow's meal."

"Of course, Your Highness, I will pass on your well wishes," Aileen replies, dipping her head in agreement, ever the willing subject, but I can see her hands shaking with anger.

"Lady Clarissa, come dance with me." The prince turns his attention back onto me, his words more an order than a request.

My eyes widen and I instinctively take a step back. His body tenses like a predator stalking his prey, his grin widening as he gets ready to hunt. I can't dance, and from the way he's looking at me, he knows it. I feel sick. Is this his plan? Will he take me onto the dance floor, make me look like the fraud I am, and then kill me at dessert?

"No, I'm afraid that's not possible," Wilson interjects, and I have never been more grateful to have him as my friend. Rhydian makes a growling sound as he rounds on him.

"Mage Wilson, is there a problem?"

"Clarissa has an injury to her leg, so she's unable to dance," he lies, gesturing towards me, and I have to fight the insane urge to start hobbling around to ‘prove' my fake injury.

"What a shame." His tone implies he thinks the opposite, and I know he doesn't believe us. Taking a step closer, he holds out his hand to me. "I do happen to be a proficient dancer, however, so I can lead her into a simple dance without straining her…injury."

I know there is no way out of this, so with a quick smile at Wilson, I place my hand in the prince's, wincing as his tightens around mine. Wilson goes to take a step forward, but Aileen places her hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going any further. He turns to look at her and then back to me, the pain of having to decide between us clear on his face.

"I'll be okay, see you soon," I say quietly, hoping my smile stays in place as the prince begins to walk away, pulling me with him.

I follow behind the prince, trying to hurry so I can walk alongside him and not be practically dragged around the hall. When I reach his side, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye and grins. Coming to an abrupt halt, he pulls me to him, and I land against his chest with an ‘oomph' as the air is knocked out of me. His hands come up and steady me as I hurriedly take a step back, his smirk still in place.

"Everything okay?"

I'm aware of everyone watching, and I realise why he's picked to talk to me out here in the middle of the hall. He's showing me how much power he has, that he's in charge of all of these people who would kill me in a second if he ordered it.

"Yes, Your Highness, I was just startled is all," I reply, giving him a small smile and praying he can't see the disgust I feel at being this close to him. It feels… wrong, and I want to get as far away from him as I can.

Placing a hand on my waist, he takes my other hand and begins swaying to the music, holding me close.

"I know you can't dance," he says in a low voice, and as I stiffen in his arms, my heart in my throat, he simply chuckles and tightens his hold. "Don't panic, I'll take it easy on you."

He leads me into some simple steps, but we mostly staying in one place and the prince is true to his word. About halfway through the dance, I feel him looking at me, and when I glance up, I see his usual smirk has dropped, and it's been replaced by a serious expression.

"It's a shame. If I had gotten to you before Grayson had dug his claws into you, I could have moulded you into the perfect queen," he whispers, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "So beautiful." Sighing, he drops his hand back to my waist, and I work hard to stop a shudder of revulsion from his touch. "But now you're theirs ." Disgust lines his words, his lip curling up into a sneer as he speaks of the mages. "You would betray me in a second, wouldn't you?"

"No, Your Highness." Liar , my inner voice goads, and from the smile the prince gives me, he knows it too.

"Call me Rhydian."

I really don't want to call him by his first name, but I don't have a good excuse not to, and I don't want to start an argument with the person who is responsible for deciding if I live or die tonight. Fine, seeing as we are now on a first name basis…

"Rhydian, why don't you like the magicians?"

I can feel his assessing gaze. It's a bold thing to ask the prince, but as he considers me, I can tell he appreciates my directness.

"Because they lord their magic about like they are the most important people around. They have been blessed, yet they use their magic for trivial matters." He pulls at a curl of my magicked hair, and I realise from his expression that he knows this isn't my true hair.

"They fight in your war. They keep us safe."

He hums his agreement, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "You're right, and that is the only reason we allow them to live," he states casually, like he's discussing the weather.

My blood runs cold at the statement, a thought coming to me… "So, if we were to win the war…"

"We would no longer need the magicians. We could finally be rid of two enemies in one go." Glee lights up his face, and he's so lost in his own fantasy world, he doesn't see my look of horror before I can school my expression.

"The magicians aren't your enemy. They love the Great Mother, they serve her, they protect us," I tell him, needing him to understand. "They are good people."

Smiling at me like I'm a child, he simply shakes his head. "Some sacrifices need to be made in war," he reasons, like I couldn't possibly understand. But I understand perfectly.

"You are talking about mass genocide." Pulling away from the prince, I take a step back, not wanting his hands on me for a moment longer.

The music has stopped, as the musicians are changing their sheet music, and my voice is louder than I had planned, but in my horror, I don't seem to care. The people around us gasp and step back, watching us with shocked glances.

"Lady Clarissa, I think you must be confused," the prince replies loudly in a soothing tone, but I've had enough.

Turning, I stalk over to Wilson and Aileen, the latter of which is watching me with an impressed but stunned expression. Reaching their sides, I just shake my head, not wanting to talk about it and trying to quell the feeling of his hands on me.

The meal is exquisite, as usual, but I don't have much of an appetite, so I push most of the food around my plate. There's a part of me that's disgusted with myself for wasting food when, as a slave, I would have been lucky to even receive a scrap of bread to get me through the day. My friends try to make conversation with me, as well as a kindly lord who's sitting opposite us for the week, but I just can't focus on anything. I'm jittery, and adrenaline runs through my body in a fight or flight response, although I'm not quite sure what has triggered it. When the dessert plates have been taken away and the servants file in with the gilded boxes, I'm suddenly filled with calm. This is it, this is why I can't focus. I made a scene in front of the crown prince, of course it will be me who has the poisoned chocolate.

A servant places a box in front of me, whispering, "Beloved," before scurrying away. Flipping open the lid, I stare down at the innocent-looking chocolate. I feel a heavy gaze and I look up, seeing Rhydian watching me with a smile. He lifts his wine glass, as if in toast, and my hands start to shake.

Another servant comes up to the table and places a box in front of Aileen, but she's looking at me.

"Beloved," she whispers, but she says it urgently, and as I frown at her, she tilts her head ever so slightly towards the box, and if I hadn't been looking directly at her, I wouldn't have seen. My Goddess mark on my wrist bursts to life, glowing brightly as my body is filled with power, and I realise I was wrong—Aileen's got a poisoned chocolate.

The servant hurries off just as the king stands, gazing around and seeing everyone has their box, he nods. "Eat," he commands, and all the ladies reach for their chocolates. All except me. I don't have time to think, to plan a more conspicuous way of doing this, but there is no question in my mind. I won't let my friend die.

"No!" I shout, knocking Aileen's hand away from the box. She looks at me, shocked, and I feel everyone else in the room doing the same. The king is still standing, his eyes narrowed on me, and a shiver goes down my spine. I've just lost my usefulness to him.

"I said, eat." He doesn't raise his voice, but somehow it carries through the hall as if he's standing right in front of me.

"Clarissa, what are you doing?" Wilson hisses, his skin pale. I hate that I'm putting him through this.

Reaching across the table, I switch my box with Aileen's, making sure she sees my glowing Goddess mark in the process. I don't try to hide what I'm doing, and a low mumbling fills the hall.

"Eat the chocolate from my box," I tell Aileen in a low voice. It's important that she's seen eating one of them, obeying the king, but she won't be safe for long. For whatever reason, she has a target on her back now. "Then, when this is over, find your father, tell him what happened here, and then go to the Queen's Courtyard. There will be someone waiting there, hidden. He will help you escape."

"What?" She's looking at me in surprise, and I know she understands the consequences of my little rebellion as tears gather in the corner of her eyes.

"Clarissa, what are you saying?" Wilson leans across Aileen, placing his hand on my arm. He looks confused, but hurt lines his face. He might not understand what just happened, but he knows I've been hiding something from him.

"Switch those boxes back. That is an order," the king bellows. I don't look up from Wilson or Aileen, but out the corner of my eye, I can see guards making their way towards us. Ignoring them, I just smile at my friends, hoping they don't see past it and notice how frightened I am.

"Come on, Wilson, you know what was going to happen here tonight. You're going to lose one of us either way, at least this way it's me."

He shakes his head as if the action could negate what I'm saying. He wants to fight for me, but I know he would have to choose between me and Aileen. I won't make him do that. His hand tightens on my arm. "Clarissa—"

Removing his hand, I push from my chair and smile at the king.

"Your Majesty, is there a problem?" My comment sends another ripple of muttering through the guests. I feel sick to my stomach, and my hands are trembling, so I ball them into fists which I hide under the table.

"You will eat from the box you were given." The king stares at me, his voice settling back to his normal volume as he expects me to jump to follow his order. Rhydian sits forward on his throne, watching me with cruel glee as if all his wishes have come true. I've seen looks like that before, and it reminds me of children who torture small animals for fun. Fighting a shudder, I turn back to the king and tilt my head to one side as if I don't understand. The king knows what I'm doing. If I outright defy him, he could have me killed on the spot, and when he doesn't, that will raise suspicions. There's a reason they are keeping me alive—I just don't know why—or they would have killed me by now. So, instead, I pretend to be dense, and let the watching lords and ladies think I'm just stupid.

"So are you saying that one of these is different? Are you going to poison myself or Lady Aileen?"

Rhydian laughs, realising what I'm doing and enjoying my act. The king scowls further.

"I'm saying that—"

"If that's the case, then you won't mind me eating from Lady Aileen's box." Cutting off the king, I reach down and lift the chocolate to my mouth. My body fills with a sharp, bone racking pain as soon as I touch it, the agony intensifying the closer I bring it to my mouth. My wrist glows, and I know I was right. Aileen was going to die tonight.

"Aileen, it's okay." I look down at her with a gentle smile. She slowly nods and lifts the chocolate from my box, placing it in her mouth.

"How dare—" The king is turning a shade of red that can't be healthy, but I don't give him the chance to say anything further. Parting my lips, I lift the chocolate higher, about to place it on my tongue, and I wonder if I've taken the wrong gamble. Is he going to make me eat it anyway?

"Okay, stop. Stop!" the king shouts amid gasps from those around us. I was right. Turning, I face Wilson and lean over, placing a hand against his cheek.

"Thank you for everything, you can't imagine how much you have changed my life just by being in it." My chest tightens and my voice goes high.

I will not cry. I will not cry, I chant, hoping that if I think it enough, it will come true. He opens his mouth to say something, and I can see the fight in his eyes, so I cut him off. "Protect Aileen until she can return to her father."

With that, I pull away and stand up straight, looking towards the king as I smile and drop into a curtsy. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Your Majesty."

Stepping away from the table, I adjust my skirts and stroll up the hall towards the large double doors which, mercifully, are still open. I keep my steps steady and unhurried, which is my hardest task when all I want to do is run as fast as I can. The guards are watching me with a mixture of anger and confusion, and I know they are just waiting for the order to capture me, to kill me. But I have leverage, and I know the king won't kill me, at least not here.

Reaching the door, I don't look back as I pass it, no matter how much I want to. Finally out of sight, I lift my skirts and I run. I sprint through the blessedly deserted hallways, my body protesting. Tears finally escape from my eyes, tracking down my cheeks. The shoes are tight on my feet and keep trying to slip off, and as I round a corner they slide again and trip me. With a cry, I sprawl across the floor, quickly pushing myself up and kicking off the shoes with a sob. Picking up my skirts once again, I run towards the staircase that will take me down to the underground chamber. I want to go back to my rooms, pack some things to take with me, and say goodbye to Jayne, but I know I don't have time, that's the first place they would look for me.

Reaching the hidden alcove, I slip in and hurry down the stairs, my breath coming in sharp pants. I'm about halfway down when I remember the guards at the bottom of the stairs. How am I going to get past them? There are always at least four guards watching Vaeril at any one time. I am wholly unprepared. How is one skinny ex-slave going to overpower four trained soldiers?

A strange sound reaches me, and I frown and lean against the wall as I try to figure out what it is. Another ‘oomph' makes its way up the staircase and I realise it's people fighting.

Vaeril.

Panic unlike anything I've ever known fills me, and without thinking, I dash down the rest of the stairs.

They're hurting him. The thought just keeps floating around my head, drowning out all other reason, and it's what gives me the strength to make it the rest of the way down. Reaching the bottom, I gape at what I see before me.

A crossbow is aimed at Vaeril's chest as he fights with another guard. With teeth bared, he places his hands on either side of the guard's head and twists. There is a loud snap and he drops the guard's body as the light leaves his eyes.

Hearing my gasp, he turns towards me. "Clarissa."

"Watch out!" I scream, running towards the remaining guard who moves his crossbow from the elf to me. I don't think, I just keep running. An inhuman sound fills the room, and in a flash, Vaeril barrels into the guard, knocking the crossbow away as it fires so the arrow misses me by inches as I drop to the ground, arms up to protect my head. Gurgling makes me look up, and I see that Vaeril has his hand around the guard's throat, lifting him off the ground as he squeezes.

That's what the gurgling noise is, I think dumbly, as I try to process what's happening. The guard is struggling, clawing at the elf's hand, but it's useless against his supernatural strength. He's gaping now, panic entering his eyes as he realises he's going to die.

"Vaeril," I call, flinching at how quickly his head turns toward me. In this moment, I'm reminded exactly what he is—with his full power restored, thanks to me. "This is cruel."

"He tried to kill you," he counters while staring at me, his body completely still other than the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm okay," I assure him, pushing upright so he can see that I tell the truth. "Please." The words are tight as the reality of what happened tonight hits me.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

A low growling noise emits from his chest and he looks away, only to reach up with his other hand and snap the guard's neck. Throwing the now limp body to the ground, he turns to face me.

I look around the room and see the bodies of all five guards. The space is a mess, with broken furniture scattered about and arrows lodged into the wall where they tried to fire at Vaeril. Glancing back at him, I see a couple of cuts on his bare chest and arms.

I give in to that tight pull in my chest and move towards him. As if we're attached, he takes a staggering step closer to me at the same time.

"You're bleeding."

"You've been crying."

We speak at the same time, coming to a stop when we are just an arm's length apart. He looks down at his chest and shrugs as I reach up and wipe at my cheeks.

"We need to leave. Now." My urgency returns and I glance at the staircase as if guards are going to come streaming down at any moment.

"I know." He turns away and hurries back inside the room with the forge. Going straight to one of the workbenches, he opens a drawer, and pulls out a bag and a loose white shirt which he pulls on over his head. Reaching across the top, he grabs the hammer and several other tools which he slides into the bag. He picks up the pack, puts it on, and then pulls a cloak from the drawer and wraps it around his shoulders. Jogging back over, he comes to a stop in front of me, his breathing accelerated and eyes alight.

"I've been preparing," he says with a feline grin, baring his teeth in a way that makes him look every inch the predator. "Taking things the guards leave lying around," he clarifies, before looking me up and down with a frown. "You're not wearing shoes."

Glancing down, I see my toes poking out from under the fabric of my dress. "I ran from the banquet with the king. He was going to kill my friend, so I refused to let her eat the chocolate and then ran away. I came straight here," I blurt out, knowing from his confused look that I'm not explaining myself very well. "We have to go."

"It's early spring, you will freeze without any shoes," he retorts, and looks around the room, hunting for something as he walks up to each guard.

"I'm used to it." Shrugging, I watch him numbly. I've survived the harsh Arhaven winters with nothing more than some rags and an old blanket I managed to steal from the trash.

He turns sombre at the reminder of my past, looking up at me. I expected to see a sympathetic expression, I'm used to being pitied, but instead he appears thoughtful. "Still, we have a long way to go."

Turning back to his task, he starts removing shoes from one of the guards. "These will probably be a little big for you, but it's better than nothing." He tosses the shoes towards me, and I stare at them for a moment before putting them on. He's right. They're simple black leather boots that lace up the front, so I'm able to tie them tightly so they won't fall off. They are a little big, but not too bad a fit. As I look back up, I see he's walking towards me with a fur-lined cloak. He drapes it over my shoulders, and I hum how warm it is.

"Where did you get this?"

"It belongs to one of the guards, but you'll need it once we leave the castle."

It feels strange to be wearing the clothing of someone who died, someone who was killed in front of me, but I don't have time to think about it. I know it will upset me once all this is over, but we're in survival mode at the moment.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and fear suddenly hits me.

Are we really going to do this? Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and touch my Goddess mark for strength. I smile as her love fills me like a fresh, reassuring breeze.

"You are ready, my beloved," the Great Mother whispers into my mind, and I know we are doing the right thing. Opening my eyes, I see Vaeril watching me calmly. We're both aware of what's at stake here and that we don't have time to waste, yet he doesn't rush me, just simply waits for me.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Too late now, I think to myself, but I appreciate him asking. He could have left days ago, but he stayed, he waited for me because he knew I wouldn't have a chance of escaping without him. That's not strictly true, Tor would have helped you escape. My gut clenches painfully at the reminder of Tor and Grayson. I wish I could have said goodbye and explained everything. When Grayson finds out I escaped with an elf…

"Yes, there are no other options now."

He stares at me for a few moments before nodding and gesturing towards the staircase. It's time to go. We hurry up the many stairs, him leading the way, and a thought comes to me.

"How did you know I was coming?"

He almost misses a step at my question, but brushes it off as he continues upward. "We must stay silent now," is his only response. Biting my lip, I nod my understanding, even though I know he can't see it. After a few seconds of silence, I hear him sigh. "I felt your fear, I knew something had happened."

I want to ask so many more questions about what he said, about how he plans to get us out of here, but when I hear the pounding of many sets of feet, I know I need to stay silent. Reaching the top of the stairs, he pauses before turning to face me as he places a finger over his lips, reminding me to stay quiet. I nod my head, and he turns back and presses his ear to the door, his eyes closing as he listens, his face tense with concentration.

After a minute or so I start to fidget, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from asking questions. Suddenly, his eyes open and he pushes the door outward slightly, slipping through and gesturing for me to follow. Entering the hidden alcove, I see him peering around to check that the coast is clear before holding his arms out to me.

"Come here," he murmurs, expecting me to just jump into his arms without any questions. Raising an eyebrow, I give him a look.

"What?"

Sighing as if I'm causing a fuss for no reason, he takes a step closer to me and gestures with his arms again. "I'm going to carry you out. It will be faster, we don't have time to waste."

I want to argue, this is not how I imagined escaping the castle with the elf. I thought of suggesting we ask Tor for help, but I know the mountain tribes don't trust the elves much more than we do, and I don't have time to explain everything to him. Uncertainty and discomfort fill me, but that pull within me tells me I can trust him. Taking a deep breath, I nod and take the final step into his arms. Before I can change my mind, he's scooped me up and I'm pressed against his chest.

The elf checks the corridor once more before slipping out into the darkness with me in his arms. I can only pray that we are doing the right thing as my doubts swirl through me. The only thing I am certain of is that my life will never be the same again.