Chapter 26

The abandoned halls of the castle I'd once called home shook me. I'd met no resistance at the gates. In fact, there was no one at all. Not a guard, not even a vagrant who'd gotten brave enough to try to climb the wall. The echoes of my footsteps were my only companion as I walked the familiar steps and stood outside my old bedroom. In another life, another reality, I was a princess, too. Royalty. Revered. Now? I wasn't sure what I was.

I'd climbed the clock tower and sold off valuable jewels, convinced my father's castle was full of traitors, yet every treasure so far remained. Each painting untouched.

My room hadn't changed since that veil had fallen over my face. Not a pillow out of line. But someone had been here. Orin had stolen clothes at some point. Or had it been Paesha or Thea? Surely, not Hollis.

As I walked around my room, I considered the old man and the hope he'd placed in me. As if I could make right the wrongs of his sister, Dahlia. Maybe he hadn't trusted me, and that was wise, but he'd been kind and warm. He'd been more than most. And when he was near, there was a sense of calm unlike anything I'd ever known. Unlike anything I'd ever gotten between these walls.

I changed from the outfit I'd borrowed from Hollis, covered in the blood of the castle guards no matter how hard I'd tried to clean it. I preferred my own leathers. Black as night, perfectly fitted, with tall leather boots, straps for weapons, and my beloved hood and mask.

Sitting on the edge of my bed in every bit of clothing that marked me as Death's Maiden, I considered ripping it off. I considered wandering the castle in search of a woman's gown, with delicate lace and layers of skirts and corsets and giant bustles to distort my figure into something that stroked a man's desire. I wondered for a fraction of a second if Orin would prefer that before cringing and shoving that thought into the trash.

But still, his words lingered in this fateful room.

"Marry me, Princess Deyanira Sariah Hark…. You could have been anyone. Any age, any beauty. And yet, it was as if the heavens conspired, and fate itself intervened to grant me this privilege."

We'd been standing in front of Ro's mirror. He was so handsome, with dark hair and a perfectly pressed suit. The flawless emulation of the part he played. And he'd looked at me without the darkness that I'd known him to harbor. As if that light-hearted man I'd married was actually in there somewhere, hiding behind his hatred and the black veins surrounding his heart.

The deep patterns of the rug were worn thin before Ro's mirror. I moved to dig my boots into the fibers, remembering how many times I'd stood there and been denied access to her. When I was young, I'd never wanted to leave her sanctuary. The home of a woman who showed me kindness and genuine smiles when no one else dared look me in the eye.

Something in my reflection was different, though it took me several minutes to figure out what it was. Not the pout of my lips, nor the light dusting of freckles along my cheeks. I stepped closer, blinking several times until I realized a few clusters of my lashes had turned white. Drained of color entirely.

The residual power in the temple had left a permanent mark on me. Nothing glaring, but a warning to stay away, all the same. I should have burned it to the sodden ground out of spite.

I slid my hands over the filigree, watching the silver reflection, waiting for Ro to welcome me into that space that'd saved me from so many nightmares. From myself, just as Orin had said. Nothing. I was unwelcome.

I wondered if I could stay. How long would it be before the new king's men came to claim this castle as a second stronghold in this world? On that thought alone, I packed a bag, mostly with my prized weapons, plucking a few to replace the ones of Thea's I'd lost. I snagged a handful of jewelry for security and a couple of changes of clothes before heading to the single room in this castle I'd never been allowed.

My father's. And it'd been plundered. The only space in the castle they'd cared about.

Torn, deep-red curtains hung askew off a broken rod, letting only trace amounts of blue, stormy light in to showcase the ransacked bedroom. I moved my fingers into the fresh gashes ripped down the surface of the large, ornate wooden desk, stepping on the shattered glass from the broken lamp on the floor. Broken quills and spilled ink pots were the lasting sign of my father's devotion to his work. He'd kept a small bed in the corner of the cavernous room, and I wondered what it had looked like when my mother had been alive. Had the bed been massive then? Had it been warm, the fireplace always burning? A sanctuary that was strictly theirs, or had it always been a cluster of rooms that were mostly for work and sleep only when their bodies grew so tired they begged for reprieve?

He'd been hunting for the Life Maiden for so long—since my birth, it'd seemed. Surely, there was something here. But when I approached the stack of papers sitting in the corner, rather than finding pieces of relevant information, I found a list of names. Familiar names. He'd kept a tally of each of my victims, just as I had, though the most recent deaths were not yet etched into my back.

I flipped through the pages. Sometimes his handwriting was carefully scripted and sometimes a blur of names nearly illegible. I felt each of them on my back, each flower, and again thought of Ro. My heart ached. My father had been cruel. But he was my only family, even in his hatred. Still, I was broken because of him. I wanted what the others at the Syndicate house had.

I shuffled the bag on my shoulder and turned away, scanning the vacant room for signs of anything else that might be useful. It hadn't taken long for a spider to weave his web over the bookcase along the wall adjacent to the vandalized desk. Swiping it away, no spider in sight, I pulled the books that weren't already thrown to the floor, studying each title. Though none seemed significant, mostly lists of ancestry and battles long since won, when I slid the final book from the shelf, all the pages fell to the floor. As if they'd been ripped from the binding or hidden within.

Curious, I thought for sure there must be something here, but as I read through the papers, it was only a ledger of births, similar to the ledger of deaths I'd found. I frowned, scanning the names. Most were those of my father's court, here in the castle and some scattered through the city, but not as many. Of course, he hadn't kept track of every child. His courtiers were far more important to him. More than I was.

I shoved the papers back into the book and tossed it into my bag, regretting destroying the spider's new home for nothing. Everything had been for nothing. And a bit of me sympathized with Regulas in that moment. If my father had charged him with finding the Life Maiden and he'd come up as empty-handed as I had, he'd likely been on the receiving end of Demir Hark's wrath. Mostly he'd deserved it, though. If not for lack of trying, then because he was an asshole.

I didn't spend any more time dwelling. Instead, I stood at the door of my father's castle and wondered if I had the strength to use the threats and force he'd wanted me to. Could I hold a blade to an innocent man's throat and demand information? Yes. Yes, I could. But I really didn't want to have to do that.

Drops of rainfell onto my cheeks in a scattered pattern of defeat and sadness. I could no longer define what my life was, beyond waiting for Death to wrench me into his dark court and deliver a name. I thought I could find her. I was wrong. And I was nothing.

Spiraling through my despair, it wasn't until two giant brown eyes stared down at me, floppy ears covering half of Boo's face before I realized I wasn't alone on the rooftop of the only place I'd thought to come back to. Despite my feelings, I smiled, sitting up to scratch him behind those golden ears as I glanced at Quill, standing in the doorframe, a halo of warm light from the house illuminating her wild, curly hair. She held a worn blanket in her arm, but her eyes were red and full of tears as she stared at me.

I peeled myself from my perch, soaking wet, and carried Boo to the door.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, looking between me and her pup.

"Hungry?"

"No," she whispered, bottom lip beginning to quiver.

Kneeling before the child, I kept a safe distance so I wouldn't scare her. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong. You have to be brave enough to speak it."

She nodded, her little pink nose sniffling. "You're scary."

"I am," I agreed, though I hated to always be seen as the embodiment of fear. "Does it bother you to be near me? Shall I leave?"

"No," she said quickly. "You're scary to the bad men. But you're my friend. And if you stay with me, then they won't come and take me again."

"Ah. So, I am not your villain."

She forced a smile. "You're theirs."

I stood, reaching a hand down for the child to take it before leading her back to her bedroom.

Only when I'd avoided entering her room did she tug on my hand. "Will you stay with me? Please. If they come and they see you here, they will leave."

"I can't stay forever, Quill."

She pointed her face to the ground, eyes falling. "Will you for just this one night?"

"Okay, kid. Just this one night. But let me change out of these soaking wet clothes."

"Will you wear your fight clothes… just in case?"

"If it makes you feel safer, I can. I'll be right back."

"I'll come with you," she said, practically clinging to my leg. Poor thing.

That night, she lay in her small bed, cream-colored blankets pulled all the way up to her pointed chin. Boo leapt from my arms, circling a spot that was likely his no fewer than fifteen times before finally plopping down. She patted the bed beside her, and I crawled in, lying on top of the blankets, holding my breath as she snuggled next to me. I could have cried at the contact. At the pure soul of a child who seemed to see me more clearly than anyone else, as if her mind wasn't fogged over by the stories of past Maidens.

I swirled my hands through her brown hair, smoothing the tangles as the full moonlight finally broke through the clouds and filled her small room with its silvery light. I thought she was asleep until she drew in a heavy breath.

"One day, when I get to dance on the stage, will you come and watch me and Boo? He's getting pretty good."

I chuckled. "Of course, I will, kid."

"You can bring me flowers," she said quietly, the sleep heavy in her voice.

"I promise I will. But why do you stay with the Maestro? Truly?"

Her eyes fell shut on a giant yawn. "Because he is my friend. And he's supposed to keep me safe. He promised."

"But he didn't?"

"It must have been an accident," she said, so sleepy the words came out as one.

"Take it from me, Quill. It's far better to learn to protect and rely on yourself in this world. You can't trust anyone."

Perhaps it was the fresh wound of standing in his bedroom, but I'd heard my father in those words, and I didn't regret them at all.

"Okay," she said several moments later, likely from within her dream.

I lay for hours in that bed, nodding off several times, but I grew so afraid she'd wake to my face and scream, realizing the bad guy was actually the one she'd invited into her room, I eventually rolled carefully to the side and stood. Boo poked his little white head up, peeking at me with one eye open and a small growl in his throat.

"Good boy," I whispered, patting his head as he yawned and lay back down. "You are a big, ferocious beast."

I turned to walk away when a hint of movement outside Quill's window caught my eye. And though I couldn't see his handsome face, I'd know that silhouette anywhere now. The question was, where was he headed so late at night? And how quickly could I catch up?

I stayed as far away as I could, stalking Orin as he snuck through Silbath, crossed the bridge to Perth, and stood under a streetlamp, the mist of the dreary weather bathing him. As he watched the road, adjusting the leather gloves on his hands and then the brim of the hat on his head, I waited, wondering why he'd dressed so fine.

He paced for a moment before slipping into the shadowed alleyway nearby. The moon had been a blessing thus far, but it made the darkness darker, and he knew that. I'd been born to hunt, though, and the rooftops had never let me down.

He watched over his shoulder enough, and I wondered if he felt me nearby. The beggars in the alleyways paid him no mind, and, aside from the occasional lady of the night he'd kept a wide berth from, no one else seemed to notice him. Eventually, he leaned against a wall near the Badger Hole, checking his watch several times. A rat got too close, and he stomped his foot to scare it away, drawing the attention of birds that hoped he had food.

The wretched cough of a man that sounded as if he'd been sick for most of his life, the kind that weak lungs attacked, could be heard in the far distance. Over the whimpers and pants of those half-naked and frantic a few blocks down, he began to whistle. His perfect pitch carried a tune as haunting as his cello and as dark as his heart.

The sharp jaw of his silhouette was unmistakable. For everything there was to absolutely loathe about the man, Orin was truly beautiful. He kept a clean shave, his hair always combed. He wore suits as if he were a man of stature, and even his gloves were never without their own shine.

And he was mine. Something in that thought caused the band around my wrist to pulse, and when he paused his tune to whip around, as if his marriage bond had also pulsed, I sucked in a sharp breath and ducked low. Just in case. When I peeked back up, I had just caught the coattails of his jacket as he entered the Badger Hole. Two seconds later, I would have missed him.

I leaped over the railing and climbed down the old apartment building I'd been squatting on and casually strolled across the cobblestone street to peer in the window. He'd settled into a booth in the far corner of the old room, his back to the door. Making sure my hood was up, I debated the mask before deciding to forgo it and just walk in.

No one seemed to notice me as I slipped into a high-top table closer to the door. When he ordered two drinks and slid his gloves off, I held my breath, searching the bare skin of his palms. I was sure there would be a name there. But his palms were blank. And I'd been so distracted that I'd nearly missed the woman who swept across the room minutes after the drinks had been delivered.

With chin-length hair and slanted eyes, donning the most beautiful feminine face I'd ever seen, I smothered my gasp with the back of my hand, wondering what the fuck Ro was doing with Orin.