She’d be wrong, but it wouldn’t be hard.
Rough bark from the tree scratched the back of my neck.Leena.The weight of her absence smothered my lungs. At some point, Winnow left my palm. The wetness of her touch faded, but the door to the realm never groaned. Peeling open my eyes, I watched her gliding across the forest floor, cutting through the mist and heading straight for the barrier.
The barrier.
“Winnow, stay back!”
My heart slammed into my throat. My last tie to Leena, burnt to a crisp. I could already imagine the tracks of tears that would mar her beautiful cheeks when I told her.
But Winnow wasn’t burnt—she was floating above mist-free dirt with a surprised smile on her face.Look, Noc!Twirling in place, she floated back and forth across the barrier, each time her smile growing broader.I’m a beast. Charmers would never want to hurt me.
Hope splintered through my heart.Winnow, how long can you stay outside the beast realm?
Her eyes lit up.A long time. I don’t require as much recovery as other beasts, and I have a powerful master.
Long enough to get to Hireath? To find Leena and give her a message?
That depends on where they’re keeping her. I don’t know Hireath. But I’ll try, Noc. I promise.
My pulse raced.Promise me: If it’s too risky, if they find out you’re not one of theirs, you’ll go back to the beast realm. Leena or not.
Winnow paused.After everything, you’d care for me?
Of course.
A wide smile stretched across her face.What’s the message?
Tell her I’m coming, and I won’t stop trying to reach her.I only prayed she’d believe me.
With a nod, Winnow turned her back to the barrier and sped away from the darkness of the Kitska Forest in the direction of Hireath.
All I could do now was wait.
Thirty
Leena
Sleep died with the scent of honey, and the sudden, throbbing ache in my chest had me bolting upright. Head swimming, I white-knuckled the sides of the steel cot and steadied my nerves. Dull pain simmered along my legs, and I released the bed frame to peel back the sheets. Countless faint-white scars crisscrossed skin. Lightly, I ran my fingers along the network of ridges. And then I vomited off the side of the bed. The saliva of the Poi hadn’t been enough to permanently eradicate the signs of Wynn’s torture. Not with him ripping each wound open over and over again.
I stared at the clear mixture of bile seeping across the floor. Hunger had finally made me cave, but I’d barely managed to keep anything other than soup down. Wynn had put me to bed without the shackles on—no doubt thinking me too weak to attempt escape—and I rotated my ankles in tiny circles. Cracks and pops ricocheted off the walls. My knees protested when I stood, but I couldn’t dally any longer. Wynn would return. I’d recognized that fleeting glimmer of warmth at the end of our last session, and I didn’t want to welcome it back.
Running my hands along the smooth walls, I searched for hidden seams. Cracks. Secret passages. Anything. The drowning static buzz from the bird beast followed me as I worked, and my already fried nerves threatened to short-circuit entirely.
Between the bed, toilet, and silver anchors along the walls and floors, Wynn had created an inescapable prison. Slumping to the floor in the middle of the room, I fingered the hem of my shift dress. Speckles of dried-on blood dotted the edge, courtesy of Wynn’s wandering blade.
I needed to fight back. I couldn’t let him win. But between his beasts and his knife, I was sorely outmatched. If I wanted out, I had to catch him off guard. Knock him unconscious, and drag his hand to the magical wall to unlock the door.
I’m too weak.I’d already tried a physical assault, to no avail. He’d always been strong, but now, with my muscles racked by fatigue, he was an immovable force. I needed a weapon. Something to defend myself.
My gaze drifted to the shackle attached to the floor. One screw stood a few inches taller than the rest, thanks to the hours I’d spent loosening it.
Better than nothing.I scooted toward it and started twisting again. Getting more movement out of it the farther it pulled from the floor. Finally, it gave. I tugged it out of its hold and studied the pointed tip. It would have to do.
The cell door scraped along the floor, and I hid the screw in my hand. Wynn stood at the threshold. Beige linen pants. Faded blue tunic bordering on white. Shoeless this time. A reminder I was indeed in his home. He tried so hard to be light. To convince me this was for the greater good—no matter that he wouldn’t tell me about the cause.
Reaching for the door behind him, he paused when he noticed the puddle of vomit near the bed. “Not feeling well today?”
When I didn’t respond, he poked his head out the crack and called his Havra. She snaked between his legs, tattered rags in hand, and mopped up my mess. Rather than inspect his beast’s work, he studied me, as if searching for signs of weakening resolve.
