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“Walk. Do not stop or you will die,” he ordered.
Doing as she was told, she walked down the dimly lit room noticing a few figures sitting on either side of her. The notion of calling out to them died on her lips as she turned to see the guard staring menacingly at her. Swallowing hard, her heart beat rapidly as if it would come through her chest at any moment, but underneath it all was the violent current of grief.
When she got to the end of the room she saw two men standing in front of her. Long gray beard, pointy nose, eyes filled with murder met her. She was standing in front of Cara’s murderer. He smirked at her as if he had followed her thoughts. “Stand right here and face this way and remember our earlier discussion. You will say what I tell you to say.”
He gestured for her to stand and face the other man. It was dimly lit, but she could tell the man across from her wore black clothes that blended into the darkness around him. His pristine black hair fell to just above his shoulders, shadowing his face. His features were sharp, but the look of distaste curling his lips told her she didn’t have an ally in this man.
The man who pulled her out of the lake began speaking in a language she did not know, but the other man seemed to as he repeated the words. His voice was deep and he spoke each word as if it was a curse. When he finished, both men peered at her expectantly and she was painfully aware her ignorance might get her killed. It didn’t seem physically possible her heart could sustain this rapid beating for long. Her stomach rolled with anxiety and she considered what would happen if she was sick right then.
“You will repeat the words as I tell them to you, girl,” sneered the nasally man. The man in black only looked away from her, clearly annoyed with her ignorance.
She tried her best to repeat the words even as silent tears caressed her cheeks. When they were satisfied with her attempt, the man in black turned and walked from the room as if he detested being there a moment longer. Leonid, the guard, passed him and grabbed her arm, taking her back from the way they came.
“Welcome to Haradon court, Wren Hayden,” jeered the man with the nasally voice, and then she was being pulled down the room again by her arm.
The guard led her without another word to a smaller corridor where he opened the door and thrust her in before locking it behind her. Locking her in with her grief and fear to consume her as she tried to understand what had happened.
She sat curled in the dark for what could have been hours or minutes, the truth of the time didn’t matter. When the door opened once more Wren didn’t bother to move. She felt numb and lost to reality.
“The Bishop is prepared to make good on his word,” a deep voice said.
The memories she fought against bombarded her and it was as if she were drowning once more. She pushed herself off the hard ground and wiped at the tears that wouldn’t leave her be for more than a few minutes. As her eyes fought to adjust to the new light she realized the man before her was the one that had carried Cara’s body. She threw herself towards him. “Where is she? I need to see her!”
He grunted in response and held out a hand for Wren to move forward. Even amidst the fear strangling her she knew she would do whatever it took to help her friend. The steps that led her to outside of the massive castle were long and infinite. Judging from the lack of light peeking out the stained glass lining the castle walls it was still night, or perhaps a new night. Time felt foreign. Following the lit torches and the solemn guard in front of her she felt the wind press against her as they came to an open door. The grass beneath her feet gave slightly as if it were damp with morning dew.
When the light of the torch the guard carried finally cast light of their destination a choked sound escaped Wren. It was a suffocating and consuming sound as if it could encompass the grief swirling inside her tainting everything. Ten feet ahead of her lay a hole, freshly dug, and just to the side of it lay a white sheet with the distinct shape of a body underneath it. All at once her feet were rooted to the ground and yet she felt the need to be at her friend’s side.
“Bishop says you get ten minutes.” The guard huffed as if this were a casual meeting.
She had thought it a hundred times and would think it a hundred more, but all of this seemed like one terrible dream. The tragedy of it was she could have convinced herself it was if it wasn’t for the savage pain that pummeled her spirit leaving no doubt of its existence. As Wren came to kneel next to the white sheet she sucked in a breath as if it could give her the courage to do what needed to be done.
Once she pulled back the sheet, the last of the hope and denial she had been harboring left her. Eyes closed as if in sleep, Cara peacefully rested atop the moist ground. Wren’s eyes drifted to the perfect thin line across her throat and the sobs she fought broke loose from her chest. Her grief would not be denied.
Lifting her hand to her friend's face, she caressed her cool cheek. “I’m so sorry, my friend.”
There were no words that could encompass the responsibility Wren felt for her friend’s loss. She had come back for her. She was dead because she had had the courage to jump in the water after her. Her mother would never know how her daughter had died with the bravery of an army. Cara. Her friend since she was a young girl. Cara, who’s infectious laugh and bold personality left others wishing they had more of her time.
The guard cleared his throat and Wren fought the urge to throw something at him. This was the last time she would see Cara even though her loss would be a constant presence no matter what her uncertain future held.
“May you find the peace you deserve, my beautiful friend,” Wren whispered as she placed a kiss on Cara’s too cold forehead. She replaced the sheet and sat in defeated silence as her friend was lowered into the makeshift grave and dirt thrown over her as if her life could be buried in its depths.
Chapter 3
Twodayspassedinthe empty room with the only interaction with other people being when guards would slide in some food. Grief gave way to numbness. When the door opened and a guard ordered her to come with him, she didn't even fight. The energy it would have taken to even question him was more than she could give. She followed him down stone hallways with red carpet lining them until they stopped at an oak door. He opened it and unceremoniously shoved her in, shutting the door behind her.
The room consisted of a massive oak bed with white bedding atop it, a small table with chairs across from it, a beast of a wardrobe, and an expansive fireplace in the corner. Her eyes wandered to a window that took up an entire wall, a chaise lounge placed underneath it.
It was too dark for Wren to see what lay outside the window making her feel even more trapped than she already did. Somehow her dark and empty room had been less oppressive than being surrounded by basic comforts. Greedily drawing in air, Wren blew it out slowly and purposefully. Her mind tried to grasp onto what was happening, but the fibers of knowledge slipped between her fingers.
She moved to the fireplace, easily distracted by its size and commanding presence. Intricate carvings wove throughout it, a series of vines and greenery that seemed to tell a story of creation. Running her fingers over the cool wood she saw five figures standing together, holding hands. The vines connected the images led to a cliff where four of the figures seemed to be throwing the smallest off. Bile rose in Wren’s throat and she jerked away.
The sound of a door opening made her twist around. Her anxiety was only minimally placated by the form of a small woman with blonde hair in a tight bun above her neck wearing a dull gray dress. The woman dropped into a slight curtsy before moving towards the fireplace.
The fireplace was at least six feet high and four feet wide so the small woman could have stood inside it, but she merely crouched in front of it and started pushing the wood before a small fire lit, consuming the logs until the heat of the flames warmed Wren’s skin. With the flames, Wren could admire the intricate details of the engravings more closely.
Where the figure had been tossed over the cliff led into delicate leaves intertwined with branches that held blossoming flowers flowing in cascades from the center. She had not realized she had moved closer to the fire until a woman gently grabbed her arm, and Wren jumped as if attacked.
The woman wore a small frown, but her eyes softened with what Wren dare not hope to call kindness. Wren’s eyes began to sting, but she willed the tears to recede. She wouldn’t shed any tears in front of her captors, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. They had ripped her from everything she knew and taken everything from her. Everyone.
