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Not with kisses and promises of Eden, but with his wit and charm, and with his reluctant, but good-natured willingness to play the same songs again and again on the pianoforte as Vicky learned the dances.
Sloane picked up her stride as she realized she wasn’t keeping up with Vicky’s spry steps, but still glanced over her shoulder to see if any more smoke was headed in her direction. From this angle of the castle, she could still see the far edge of the evergreen hedge lining the southern gardens. Her gaze swept the landscape, forest, landscape, garden, then back again. The smoke had moved off and Claude and Lawrence were nowhere in sight.
They hadn’t been anywhere near her in days. Not since Reiner had kissed her in the stable.
He hadn’t been lying. She was free to go. Free to point her toes to the left and walk directly into the woods and disappear. He wasn’t going to have her stopped. Wasn’t going to drag her back into the castle.
Freedom that made her want to stay all the more.
“Sloane, hurry—it’s just on the backside of the castle.” Vicky peeked her head back around the upcoming curve of stones. The girl had remembered a few minutes ago the thicket of raspberries growing along the edge of the forest at the rear of the castle and was now determined to get there with haste.
Sloane smiled and hurried her legs.
Raspberries did sound good. Maybe if she ate enough of them she would fall asleep in a berry-induced stupor that would tell her what to do next. Leave or stay?
Sloane rounded the corner and watched with a grin as Vicky darted across the long expanse of lawn to the far woods, her pail swinging wildly on her arm. If it was possible, the girl had more energy than she did.
Vicky had already picked half a pail full of the berries by the time Sloane made it to the thicket. She plucked one off the vine and popped it into her mouth. Perfectly ripe.
Her smile spread wide. “Why haven’t we been out here before?”
“They weren’t ripe three weeks ago, and I was checking them every day and was being disappointed every day, so I just gave up. Then you appeared here and I didn’t remember them until just now.” Red drops of the berries stained the outer edges of her mouth.
Sloane nodded. “Thank goodness you did. It would have been horrible to miss these.” She looked into Vicky’s pail. “Have you eaten as many as you’ve plucked?”
“Probably more.” Vicky laughed.
Sloane’s fingers went busy, plucking the berries from their stems. Following Vicky’s lead, half went into her mouth, the other half into the pail.
Her mouth full, she turned around and took in this area of the estate. Vicky had never brought her back here. The castle wasn’t as elaborate from this side, more form than function. If she transplanted in her mind what she knew of the interior of the castle, she had to be looking at the outside wall of the great hall. Three stories high, the hall was as grand as it had to have been when it was first constructed. There were several small, wide windows high in the stone wall that she recognized from inside the hall. To the right of them, a row of four tall vertical windows lined the rest of this span of the castle.
Just below the tall windows, a wide expanse of heavy vines grew up along the outside wall, curving between the windows when they reached to that height.
Vines that would be perfect for climbing.
Without a word to Vicky, she walked toward the vines, throbs of foreboding heartbeats thundering in her head.
This was it. This was the very spot where she had been found.
Why had she not made her way back here before?
Her steps quickened.
She slid to a stop in front of the base of the vines spurting upward from the ground—gnarled roots determined not to live underground, but to burst toward the sky.
Her neck craning, she looked straight up. Vines that were made for climbing. Her gaze moved across the vines and leaves, finding the sturdy spots amongst the weak. The zigzagging line upward. Upward and leading directly to an open window.
Her throat collapsing, she reached out with her gloved left hand and touched the thick vine in front of her, her fingers sliding along the bark. Her eyes closed.
Instant.
Devastating.
It took less than a breath for all of it to come to her.
The monstrosity of the last six months slammed into her chest. Taking her breath away. Crushing her soul.
She stumbled backward, falling onto her backside. But her feet kept moving, her hands clawing the dirt and pushing her away from the vines—away from the memories filling her head. One moment after another smashed into her skull, rattling about in ferocious mayhem.
