by Emma Hamm
Perhaps, for a few moments, she was safe. They might not have thought she would come here. What peasant woman would? Only the daughter of a tinker who had taught his beloved child how to read.
The desire to touch and feel the leather bindings under her fingers got the better of her. She threw caution to the wind and stepped forward to the nearest bookcase. Reverently, she drew her fingertip down the first embellished spine.
History of the Seven Kingdoms. The gold letters seemed to glimmer underneath her gentle touch. But that wasn’t possible. It was simply embellished, in gold, yes, but it didn’t have its own light.
Books were just books.
Moving away from the strange bookcase, she followed the shelves and read as many of the spines as she could. Most were books she had never heard of, and a large amount of them were written in a language she couldn’t decipher. The few that were written in her own language seemed to be historical.
Amicia’s gaze ate up whatever words she could find. All the stories that languished here were far more important than she could have guessed. One held the accountings of Little Marsh, another told a story of a neighboring kingdom’s crop records. These were far too important to be in a chateau lost in the middle of the forest.
But why were they here? Her questions were piling up higher and higher.
Perhaps the most frustrating thing was no one could explain things to her. She was locked in here by herself. Somehow, she didn’t think the Dread would tell her which books were the best ones to devour.
Sighing, she pulled one of the heavier books down from the shelf. A History of Little Marsh. She stroked a hand over the cover and tried hard to not let the squeezing in her chest distract her.
She missed everything about her home. Every little detail, from the laundry hanging from the windows and the mouthwatering scent of pies wafting through the street to the sound of people shouting for attention from a neighbor who had been ignoring them. She missed waking her father up in the morning with fresh bread and cheese.
It had only been a couple nights, but it felt like a lifetime. And worst of all, she could never go back. She would never experience these memories again. Someday, she might even forget the beloved tiny details.
Sniffing, she carried the book over to a small desk at the wall of windows on the other side of the room. She placed it down onto the glossy surface and opened the pages with the utmost care.
The first thing was a giant sketch of her town. It was done from outside the city walls, but that was Little Marsh in all its glory. The walls with their braziers and ever-burning fires. The Light of Ember they had kept burning for hundreds of years. The words blurred.
Dashing the tears from her eyes, she then swept her dirtied skirts to the side and sat down on the cushioned stool.
Her eyes devoured the words within the book. Little Marsh, the capital of Ember was long known for its eternal light. But perhaps first to be forgotten was its original intent. Little Marsh was first created as the watchtower for Château Doré.
She paused. The Gilded Chateau? She’d never heard of such a place, although this must be it. The chateau was beautiful, certainly, but it had never appeared in any of the history books she’d read.
Amicia leaned forward. She licked her finger clean of dirt and smudge, then pressed it against the lines to follow the words.
Surrounded by walls no army could ever conquer, Little Marsh was the first defense against any attack. Their history books were wiped of this information when the Great Fall occurred.
Then, the book continued on to talk about Little Marsh’s ability to grow crops within the walls and therefore had no need for outside farmland.
That’s well and good, she thought, but what about the Great Fall? What about Chateau Doré?
Amicia flipped a few pages, scanning to see if there was any more information about what the author had stated. Nothing at all. Instead, there were more pages filled with details of what made Little Marsh unique.
Slumping, she closed the book and stared down at the cover. Andre Bernard, you have been useless. Now I must find another book to explain what you were talking about.
What was the Great Fall? It sounded like something she should have known about. Such a title wasn’t given unless it had affected the kingdom remarkably. And yet, she’d never even heard the words uttered.
The author had said the information was wiped from the history books of Little Marsh. But why? Why would anyone want to take away the history of an entire kingdom?
Hope burned a hole in her chest, far worse than guilt or fear. Within these books may be a way to save her people. To change them back from the Dread and to the men and women they once were. And this hope was infinitely worse because she had to stay alive now. For them.
She spun around and stared at the bookcases. There had to be some more information about that in this place. Somewhere between the covers were the answers she sought; all she had to do was find the right book.
Claws scraped the ground outside.
Amicia froze for a few moments until the doorknob turned.
She bolted from her seat and ran to the other side of the room just as the door opened.
Ducking into the secret passageway, she thought to run, but there were no sounds of destruction. The Dread were always trying to destroy everything in their path when they chased her.
Heart thundering in her chest, she turned to stare back at the small opening in the wall. No eye stared back at her. No sounds of the hunt echoed through the room. Instead, there was only the quiet sound of tapping.
What was it doing?
She should run. She should slip back through the walls and not tempt fate. This was just exhaustion telling her that curiosity was worth being satisfied, even if it put her in danger.
Her mind couldn’t convince her body to run. Instead, she turned back to the opening, placed a hand on the edge of the wall, and leaned around it to glimpse the creature beyond.
It stood at the back corner of the library. No, not it. He.
The largest of the Dread, the one who had been seated on the throne and who was to blame for losing poor Remy. He stood staring out into the storm with his back to her. He clasped his hands behind his back, a feat she hadn’t thought possible considering the breadth of his leathery wings. Feet spread wide, talons digging into the stone floor with those strange legs bent at the wrong angle.
Amicia might have been more afraid if he had seemed to be searching for her, like the others. Instead, he stood there. There was something almost sad in the way his shoulders curved forward, the way he stood frozen. But his gaze remained locked on the storm that raged outside the windows.
Who was this Dread? The question popped up in her mind like a scream. She needed to know the answer to this.
He released his hands at his back and reached for the book she’d left on the table. The Dread lifted it in his hands, turned it back and forth, then smiled. The wicked points of his fangs gleamed.
When he traced a claw over the letters, she had the strangest impression he wasn’t like the others. This creature could read, or at least knew these were words on a page. Which only made her wonder just how much she didn’t know about them.
Were they all like him? Were they all capable of learning?
A deep growl rumbled through his chest, the sound like thunder and a reminder she shouldn’t linger in the corridors where he could see her. She needed to hide again, because the creatures weren’t people who needed help.
She turned deeper into the passages and fled from the monster in the library.
These were the Dread. Monsters in the middle of the night who, though they may have thoughts of their own, were still beasts hunting her. Whether the change would take the human parts away from her or not, she wanted to remain the woman she was.
Her adventure had only given her more questions.
Who were these creatures? Why were they here? She could find the answer to these questions if only she looke
d a little harder.
At least she had a reason to continue hiding. A reason to keep fighting.
Chapter 8
Amicia tucked her newfound blanket tight around her shoulders. She’d come across the ragged fabric in the tunnels, an old cloak that had seen better days. Rats had chewed through much of it, using the bits and pieces to build their nests. But once she’d shaken the dust and droppings out, it had made a good blanket.
She’d survived another night. One more sunrise and sunset, although it was hard to tell through the raging snow outside. When had a storm ever lasted this long? They usually passed quickly. And yet, the strange chateau always seemed to be blanketed in powdery white.
As she watched the snow fall outside the windows of her now home, a rat ran across the sill. It’s fat fluffy body nearly rolled to the hole in the wall. Her stomach growled and pinched in on itself, reminding her she hadn’t eaten for two days now. What little water she gathered from the snow at broken windows could keep her going for a while, but not long enough to survive.
She had to find food. Something more than just snow.
Jerking the edges of the blanket underneath her armpits, she left the stained glass room and descended back into the secret passageway where she might find the kitchens once more. She’d already seen them. There was no food she could eat other than ancient smudges of rot. But she had to try.
The Dread had to eat something. The townsfolk had always claimed they devoured human flesh, ripping it from the bone, raw. If they’d changed Remy into a monster like them, and they’d once been humans themselves, would they really consume human flesh?
The Dread were not mythical creatures living off of air and fear. They had to eat something, which meant there had to be some kind of storeroom. She’d take anything, even rat meat.
She was too weak to keep up with the dastardly beasts. Her father had taught her how to make a rat trap once, but she hadn’t paid attention at the time. When would she ever have needed to know how to make a trap! She’d believed she’d always have Father to get rid of vermin.
She touched a hand to the wall, steadying herself as a wave of nausea and dizziness made her sway. Perhaps she should have listened to her father a little more.
Such trinkets were her father’s favorite projects. He liked to make things other people might not have found useful until they realized he was right.
She remembered watching him at his desk, glasses on his face that made his eyes overly large. Her father would glance over his shoulder and laugh at her, blinking his eyes so she would burst into laughter.
Now, her stomach rolled for something other than hunger. Her heart clenched and she desperately wanted her father.
Dashing away the tears, she continued forward. As he would have wished.
It seemed like hours she wandered through the walls of the chateau. Hours she couldn’t get back because she couldn’t focus on direction or time.
Her feet carried her when her mind could not, however, and soon she stood in front of a small hole from where the most wondrous of smells wafted. It was another small place for the servants to watch what was going on, although she couldn’t imagine why they would spy on other servants.
Such trivial things didn’t matter. She could hardly focus over the scent making both her mouth water and her stomach clench.
Meat pies, she thought. She’d know the smell anywhere because so many people in Little Marsh had made them regularly. They would be seated on windowsills throughout the city in the early morning.
Amicia pressed a hand against her belly and then peered through the small hole. She had thought to find some kind of human servant, although that felt silly to imagine. Instead, a very thin, tiny Dread bustled around the kitchen with an apron around its waist. There were pots and pans all set atop stoves that stretched across the back wall. Ovens were at full blast, and dough had been rolled out over the tables in the center of the room.
A Dread. One of the monsters that terrified her, haunted her waking nightmares, was in the middle of a rather beautiful kitchen while cooking meat pies. This wasn’t the same kitchen as before. It was too golden, too clean, and there was fresh food on the table.
Most likely the kitchens she’d entered the chateau through had been the servants quarters, nothing more and nothing less. This kitchen was far more glamorous and clearly had been maintained, even though the Dread had taken over the chateau.
Amicia’s mind went blank. She didn’t have any idea how to process this information. They were afraid of fire, and little more than mindless beasts. The vision in front of her didn’t fit the Dread she knew.
They could cook?
The Dread in the kitchen picked up a small knife and started chopping what looked like carrots. Its claws made holding the knife awkward, but it still managed to chop the carrots into even slices. Then, it swiped the knife across the table, caught the carrot pieces in its large hand, and carried them over to a boiling pot.
The creature paused in the middle of the kitchen. In her surprise, had she made some kind of sound? Or perhaps when she’d shifted closer to the wall, had her weight made it creak?
Its shoulders tensed. It closed its fist tighter, and the wings on its back spread wider.
She was caught. If the beast made any kind of sound or called for its friends, then she would need to run through the walls. And then they could hear her sprinting.
That meant whatever escape plan she had would have to be done quietly. If she took enough corners, then maybe they wouldn’t be able to punch through the plaster and wallpapered walls to grasp her.
Just as tense as the creature, she held her breath and sent a prayer to whatever deity might listen to her. She needed one thing to go right. One moment when she didn’t make a foolish mistake and forget all the things her father had taught her.
Instead of sounding an alarm, the creature put down the knife in its hand. It moved away from the boiling pots of water and made its way toward the back of the kitchen.
What was it doing? Perhaps there was something in the back that would help it catch her. She should sneak away, like a mouse who knew the cat had found its hiding hole. And yet, she couldn’t convince her feet to move when there was so much food here just waiting for her to eat it.
The Dread picked up a small basket in the corner and made its way closer to the wall where she hid. It was out of her sight now, although maybe it was setting a trap.
A banging echoed through the secret passage, a fist striking the wall. Amicia flinched, drawing her arms closer and her body away from the small hole where she could have seen what the beast did.
She had to run. Food be damned, she could survive a few more moments without.
Light flooded through a hole in the wall from the direction she’d come. Not at head height like she would have expected, but the puncture was as close to the ground as possible. And within the hole, the Dread had placed a basket full of food.
Bread rolls, a few apples, and a steaming meat pie taunted her. She watched the coils of heat rising into the air with so much pain she almost couldn’t handle it. Her stomach seemed to chew on itself and her hands shook at the possibility of something more than the dust and cobwebs that had gathered at her lips.
This had to be a trick. Hadn’t the king of the beasts been in the library, tracing words with his fingertips? They weren’t the mindless beasts all the townsfolk had thought them to be. That meant this one was likely laying a trap for her, just like one would trap a mouse with a bit of cheese.
Going toward the food would be dangerous. She could wait until the beast left the room, then she could sneak out and grab a few rolls…
Another wave of nausea had her gagging. Nothing would come up but a thin thread of water and bile if she let herself vomit, but she refused to allow even that to happen. She couldn’t.
She moved toward the hole in the wall again, then peered through it, expecting to see the creature waiting with outstretched claws. Instead, the Dread a
ppeared to have gone back to its work. It was back at the table, now chopping what looked like potatoes, and not even looking at the basket it had laid in the wall.
What was the creature’s plan?
She had to walk by the basket to get back to the tunnels she knew. Spending another day wandering through the walls on an empty stomach, weak and exhausted, would be fatal.
Carefully, she took a few steps toward the basket. If the creature was waiting for the sound of her footsteps, then it would have to listen hard. She’d already taken off her shoes, so every movement was silent. At least to her human ears.
The savory scent of food was divine, far better than anything she’d ever inhaled before. She wanted to drop to her knees and shove the food into her mouth like an animal. She didn’t think she would even chew if she was given the chance to eat this.
One more step, and the basket was within her reach. She could lean forward and grab it. If only this weren’t a trap and the creature wouldn’t reach through the hole and drag her out into the light where it would turn her into one of its own…
A pang of hunger doubled her over, shooting bolts of agony through her abdomen. And bread--gods, food--was just within reach...
She snatched a loaf out of the basket.
She danced backward, hoping to escape an attack of the creature’s claws. But it never came.
The loaf of bread in her hands was warm and soft. It split apart easily in her fingers, and when she pulled the two halves away from each other, steam rose from the center. The smell was divine. Certainly this was the scent the gods would pick if they could choose one smell.
She didn’t care what the creature’s game was. She stuffed her mouth and stared through the hole, trying to chew quietly while knowing she couldn’t stay here forever. The beast could succumb to its desires.
Or would it?
At the moment, neither option mattered. Amicia crammed her mouth full of bread and tried not to moan at the instant pleasure. It tasted like the food of gods. Warm. Soft. Mouthwatering until she nearly drooled over every rushed bite.