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Chapter 15
Now
I stared up at Castemont, the man who had become the closest thing I’d ever have to a father again. His face was sober as he glared down at me. I said nothing as he pinned me in place with that look.
“What, pray tell, are you doing, Petra?” he started, and a warm relief flooded into my fingertips at the notion of him caving first. The sweetness of his voice didn’t match the disdain that was now fastened to his face. He sounded the part of loving, concerned step-father but the face he wore belonged to an executioner. My lips hardened into a line as I visualized my eyes like daggers to his shoulders, pinning him in place as he had done to me.I am in control. I am okay.“I assumethisis who you’ve been receiving your information from?” I felt Wrena shrink even smaller beside me.
“Aye, but I threatened to harm her if she didn’t tell me all she knew.” The lie fell from my lips easily. He raised an eyebrow and I felt Wrena straighten slightly.
“Is that so?” he purred. The tone of his voice was maddening. I nodded, my eyes still locked on his. “And what were you doing in the kitchens?”
He probably thought I was up to something nefarious. I was too embarrassed to tell him I had risked my life,Wrena’slife, for a handful of fucking biscuits. I stayed silent. He gave a slight nod. “Back to your quarters. Immediately. Take the servants’ halls so no one sees you.” Still I stood, still I stared, imagining myself towering above him. He was nothing. “You,” he pointed to Wrena. “With me.”
“No,” I said.
He turned his attention back to me, a brow lifting. “No?”
“No. She had nothing to do with this.” I stepped toward him, staring up at his face. “She is not to be punished.”
“Petra, darling, you have no authority in this castle until you complete Initiation.” His tone was patronizing. But he was right. I stared him down with every ounce of resolve I had.
I turned to Wrena. “Thank you for your kindness,” I said flatly, trying to convey the panic and the apologies through my eyes. All I could see in hers was fear, and I was afraid that if I looked too long, my eyes would mirror hers. I turned away, blinking tears from my eyes, praying to the Saints I could keep them at bay until I was in my own bedroom. I heard the echo of the wooden door to the kitchens slam shut, the noise reverberating through the halls and straight to my bones.
Alone in my room, the night sky closed in. The stars burned holes in my head and the moonlight filled me with nausea. A light breeze blew through, moving the billowy curtains like ghosts. No one came knocking.
???
The sunlight assaulted my eyes as they opened, and I had a half second until the dread pooled into my stomach.
Initiation Day.
I rose, hearing footsteps in the hall come and go. I sat on the edge of my bed wondering if Wrena had been reassigned early, if she was okay, if the head mistress would punish her. If Castemont would punish her. I pushed the thought from my mind, the nausea from last night returning in an instant. The marble floor was cool beneath my feet, and I reminded myself that this was real, that I was real.
A soft knock on the door of my bedroom. “Yes?” My mother floated in, eyes downcast. My face immediately hardened, emotionally shielding myself from whatever she was going to say.
“Let’s get you ready.” It was barely above a whisper. I nodded, my jaw still clenched, and stood.
???
She said nothing of the night before. If Castemont had told her, she at least had the sense to keep quiet.
I didn’t have the stomach to look at myself in the mirror right now, the way the gown skimmed my curves, the way my mother had pinned up my brown hair. I did, however, stare at the delicate gold diadem on the bureau, the only thing that had felt…like comfort. Like strength. Like it was mine. Even if it had come from Castemont.
“It suits you,” my mother murmured, following my gaze to the diadem as she fastened my corset. Each tug pushed more and more air out of my lungs. I better get used to it considering my lungs would most likely be airless by nightfall. Maybe punctured, too. “You know it was created in the image of the crown that sits on the head of Katia.”
Katia, Keeper of the Benevolent Saints. From what I knew, the legends said that she was the one who led the Benevolent Saints in battles against the Blood Saints and their Keeper, Rhedros. She commanded an army of monsters; kelpies rose from the sea at her call, soulhags emerged from the dirt, scaled drivas descended from the heavens, breathing fire on all those in their path. She was the one who had the final say on blessings granted, mercies denied. They called her the Heart of the Eleven Saints.
“I didn’t receive a formal education, if you remember.” It was true. That had little to do with her and more to do with our family’s lack of funds. Most of what I learned of the Saints had been since moving into the castle. I had known their names and what they presided over, maybe a story here and there. But Larka and I learned what we knew about the Saints from the little our parents told us, and they weren’t the most devout followers. We took their names in vain simply because everyone else did. Like I told Wrena, if the Benevolent Saints were real, they didn’t smile upon me. No word on the Blood Saints, yet.
My mother huffed. “I did my best.” I wasn’t sure if I believed her. She hadn’t done her best in a long, long time, and definitely not since moving into the Low Royal Castle.
She finished tying the corset, giving it a final tug that almost pulled me off the pedestal. My hands fell to my sides and the texture of the ruffles caused bile to rise in my throat. This was it.
My mother picked up the diadem from the bureau, motioning for me to kneel. She nestled it among the braided coronet that framed my face, and something about the action struck a bolt of melancholy through my heart. I stood and stepped down from the pedestal, meeting her gaze. The silence was strained, and every word that came to mind dissolved like sugar in water. I could tell she was wrestling with her next words as well.
I simply lowered my head and bent into a low curtsy. She nodded back, ushering me out the door of my wardrobe and toward the hall. “Excuse me, Ma,” I said curtly, motioning to the restroom. She nodded and headed for the drawing room.
I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, savoring the slightly cool wood beneath my bare shoulders. I just needed one last second, one final moment to breathe. Then I saw it.
