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None of which is a good sign.
But without light, the army fades away into the darkness, and I’m left staring at nothing. Cold. Alone. Trapped in a pretty room.
Frustrated, I decide to tear the room apart to see if there’s anything I can use to get out. Yes, I’d done it before, but there’s nothing else I can do, so at least it keeps me busy. I check the bed, the mattress and under it… there’s nothing. I check in the nightstands, the empty closet, every crack of the bathroom. Nothing. Finally, I go to the wardrobe and stare.Come on, please. I need this.
I move the dresses out of the way to see if maybe there’s something inside this thing, a loose nail, a screw I could twist free, anything that can help me get out of here. Behind a ball gown, almost tangled in the skirt, is a small wooden box.
Yes!Maybe all it has is a finger, or some other creepy thing that will fit this dark castle, but there’s a small chance it’ll be something helpful. So, I pull it into my lap and take a deep breath.
Come on. Come on.
When I open the box, I find a torn piece of paper with words scribbled across it in black ink.Know your strength, find their weakness.It’s sound advice. Not particularly helpful, but I hope it gave whoever was stuck in here before me help.
I fold it and put it back. I’ll know where to find it if I need the reminder. I move it to the side and find an old coin. It’s American money from way back in the day, but, again, not helpful. The last item is a brooch. An ugly dragonfly with a yellow body and blue wings dotted with black. It’s gaudy. But I don’t care how it looks. I zero in on the pin on the back. Itlookslike it will fit into a door lock.
Yes!“So, now all I need to do is a pick a door lock. I’ve handled harder things.” My voice sounds more hopeful than I feel, but whatever, I can do this.
Setting down the box, I go to the door, carefully holding the broach. Straightening my shoulders, I shove the pin into the lock, jimmy it this way and that way, but that lock has to be made of some sort of super titanium unpickable metal alloy. Because nothing happens.
Or maybe lock picking isn’t as easy as I’d hoped.
But I’m not one to give up. I pull the pin out, take a deep breath, and try shoving it in from another angle. Twisting and shifting, I listen at the keyhole, hoping for some kind of sound to indicate I’m free. Again, nothing happens.
Frustrated, I sit back on my heel, glaring at the lock.This has to work. What am I doing wrong? Is this even possible?Suddenly, the lock clicks and I spring back in surprise.
Fuck! I didn’t do it. I’m not alone here.
Leaping to my feet, I drop the broach and assume a battle stance, hands fisted, feet spread apart, parallel, one to the front one slightly behind me. I’m prepared and ready to shift my weight to make my punch more lethal, just like Onyx taught me. Then, I’ll run. I’ll run as far and as fast as I can to reach my men before it’s too late.
But when the door swings open to a woman with long, white-blond hair, so pale it might as well be transparent, I don’t attack. Even though the woman screamswarriorthrough every inch of her leather-clad body. Because, frankly, I’m surprised. And because I’m not sure if she’s a friend or foe.
Not that I’m putting my hands down until I know who she is and why she’s here.
Her head tilts as she studies me, her hazel eyes strangely bright. “You must be Ann.”
I don’t want to tell her anything, but it’s clear she already knows this. So… there’s really no point in lying. “Yes.”
Her expression isn’t gentle, but it’s not cruel either as she says, “I’m Shenra.”
Oh.
Shenra. My men’s first love. The woman who their father took, thinking she was the one in the prophecy that would lead him to great power. The woman everyone thinks drowned in the moat, or died on the way to it, is standing in my room.
So, either she’s a ghost, or she’s still alive.
What this means… I don’t know.
She stands up straighter, so that I realize just how much taller she is than I am, and we just stare at each other for a minute. I can tell she’s assessing me, so I assess her too. She has a dagger at her waist on a silver belt, and she’s wearing… a leather, long, black dress-thing, although it’s not exactly a dress, because in front it cuts all the way up to her belly, revealing black pants underneath. Her face is dirty, as are her clothes, and she’s so thin it looks like she’s missed more meals than I thought possible.
And yet there’s no denying she looks strong. A warrior. That I’m sure of.
This ghost of a woman. This person who disappeared and let my men think she was dead.Where has she been? And is she a friend or foe?Part of me can imagine that she’s been a prisoner in this castle all this time, and the other part wonders if she’s just been quietly working for the Shadow King.
At last, those brilliant hazel eyes of hers meet mine again. “So, you’re the woman of prophecy?”
I stiffen. Once upon a time the king thought she was. “I don’t know.”
She smirks. “Yes, you do. It was never me, and for some reason I feel like this would be the Moon Goddess’s sense of humor… to bring some earthing, some fae, to save our world instead of me.”
