by Amy Miles
I open the door to my room the following day before Fane has a chance to knock. His expression of surprise swiftly melds into admiration. “You were listening. Good. I wondered if you would be able to hear my approach.”
“I heard you the moment you entered through the courtyard on your horse. It has one shoe that is loose. You really should see to that.”
“I shall.” Fane’s smile deepens, and I blush beneath his obvious approval. “Care to join me for a walk?”
He steps forward to offer me his arm, waiting to see if I will extend him the trust he requires. “The sun is shining today and I thought we might begin our lessons in the meadow.”
My breath catches at the thought of being beyond the inner castle walls. How I have longed to explore the forests. “Truly? I am permitted to leave?”
Fane laughs and dips his head. “Vladimir requires that you are properly trained and to do so we will need space. He will allow you leisure to leave the castle temporarily.”
A thought rises up that strangles any joy I previously felt at the thought of escaping this stone prison. “Will my husband be there to watch my progress?”
“No.” Fane lays his hand atop mine as I accept his arm and he leads me out into the hall. I step with hardly a sound, evidence that my time spent alone in my room has not been in vain. I have learned a few things about being an immortal. I am fast, agile, and cunning when I put my mind to it. In mere seconds, I could race to the steps and leap down the grand staircase, though I restrain myself. “Vladimir has gone to welcome some new guests. I believe they have traveled here from Clus.”
“For what purpose?”
There have been many new faces coming and going beneath my tower window. Some have lifted their gaze to spy me in the window, though many do not seem to care.
“The gathering has begun,” he says with a frown, and I am instantly reminded that my time has grown short. What was once months now feels like only a few short weeks before the hunt. Fane has informed me that many will come, some sooner than others if they have a greater distance to travel. “It is safe to assume that Vladimir will be gone for several days so you can rest easy.”
“And the others?” I whisper as we pass several closed doors along the second-floor hall.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye and notice his grin. “No one will bother us.”
As if to uphold his statement, I begin to decipher halting snores and labored breathing, mingled with other sounds that make my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Fane appears to take no notice as he confidently leads me toward the stairs and out into the uncovered courtyard.
The clouds passing lazily across the sky cast dappled sunlight onto the open space before me. I stare at the uneven stone paving, marveling at how large they are up close. My bird’s eye view from above is incapable of giving justice to the brilliant colors that swirl through the stones. Pebbles weave between them, creating a patchwork of earthen tones. The stones rise nearly six inches above the ground, providing a suitable path to walk unhindered by the muck. I hardly had the mind to take notice when I walked with Vladimir to the grave. I was far too nervous, though now, on Fane’s arm, I feel a sense of wonder.
He leads me past a well in the center of the courtyard. Its wrought iron arch is beautifully crafted. I try to peer into its depths as we pass, though I cannot see the bottom. Fane points to several details about the castle as we make our way to the far end. Carved holes in the shape of crosses line the battlements to protect from a siege. Archers could take aim with diminished risk to their own person as a battle raged on. Multiple staircases lead up to balconies and beautiful awnings.
In the light of day, Castle Bran’s fearsome appearance fades away. I stare wide-eyed at the splendid architecture all about me as Fane pushes open the towering double doors that Vladimir brought our wagon through upon our first arrival to the castle.
“Are you coming?” he asks as I tug back on his hand, standing with my head craned back to see the tall arches atop the gates. I smile as I begin to feel the tightness in my chest fade with each step that takes me away from the confinement of the castle walls. The cobbled path leading away from the entrance spills over into sweeping stone steps, both steep and amazingly liberating.
“I feel as if I can breathe out here,” I whisper as I stare at the beautiful spring colors beginning to emerge all around. Vivid reds, fiery oranges, and brilliant yellows dapple the path ahead as flowers begin to open their petals. Tall pines boast heavy-laden green boughs, dipping toward the ground.
The air is crisp and the winds cool against my skin. I breathe deep and savor the smell of fresh, untainted air.
“It is all so wonderful.” I twirl in place, desperate to take in every detail at once. Fane laughs and motions for me to follow him. I do so, eager to escape farther into the woods.
I see a bench up ahead, made of hewn trees that are stripped of their bark and fashioned into a seat large enough to fit four people. “It is so beautiful here,” I praise as I duck my head to look at a bird’s nest in the tree overhead. I can hear them twittering back and forth among the branches, though the leaves conceal them.
A grove of trees lies just beyond where I lower myself onto the bench, low hanging and secluded. I long to go there and hide for hours on end, yet I know Fane has a plan. I clasp my hands in my lap and release the breath I have been holding.
All around me I see vibrant life. Small woodland animals scamper about, collecting nuts to replenish their food stores after the winter months. Birds swoop down and collect pine needles and return to the treetops to weave their nests. Butterflies float on the breeze, their colors vibrant.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I whisper. I cannot help but wonder if he will linger after the hunt, no matter the outcome. A part of me knows he will leave again. He is a ranger. They never stay in one place for long.
Perhaps this is the life Fane chose so he is not forced to be around Vladimir or perhaps it was a life chosen for him.
Fane leans back with his fingers wrapped around the back ledge of the bench. His long legs stretch out before him, crossed at the ankles. He looks at peace here. I wish I knew his secret to finding it.
I smile at him as I curl my knees in toward my chest. My long skirts fall about my boots, draping in a perfect circle about me. “Thank you for showing me there is still beauty within this cage.”
Fane returns a smile of his own. “There is much beauty to be found here if you are willing to search for it.”
The tenderness of his words surprises me. A single glance in his direction reveals I am the object of his attention. I turn so my hair veils my rising blush. The gentle rolling hills before me fade from sight as I close my eyes and breathe in the rich scent of newly turned soil. I can smell the moss that clings to the trees nearby. The earth is waking.
“May I ask you a question?” I inquire, opening my eyes to look at him.
“Certainly.” Fane draws himself upright and turns slightly so he is facing me.
“Are you happy?” I almost feel foolish for asking such a thing after his admission over losing his wife, yet he is still a puzzle to me. How can someone find peace in a world filled with such cruelty?
Fane’s smile freezes into something stuck between shock and uncertainty. He clears his throat and looks beyond me, toward the pond just down from where we sit. It ripples with life as frogs leap from the bank and dive beneath its murky depths. Fish come to the surface, feasting on an array of bugs that skim along the glossy surface. I shudder, remembering my time spent in the cabin just beyond. Verity may be dead and buried, though she still haunts my dreams.
“No one has ever asked me that before.” He brushes back the hair that blows into his face, recently escaped from the leather thong at the nape of his neck. I cannot help admire the strength of his jaw and the stubble that grows there. I can see veins pressing against the skin of his hands and know there is great strength buried beneath, forged of granite instead of muscle.
“No. Not at all. It is just… unexpected.” He reaches out and gently places his hand upon mine, his gaze searching. A part of me screams to pull away from him, to flee before anyone spies us, yet I find his touch to be pleasant.
“I am content with my life.”
I frown. “How can this be?”
His hand feels warm and substantial upon mine. When I spread my fingers, his fall into place between mine. Not entirely clasped, yet far more intimate than we have ever been before. I watch as he lowers his gaze to stare at our entwined fingers. “I know who I am, what I have become, and I accept that.”
“That sounds truly depressing.”
Fane laughs and nods in agreement. “Perhaps, yet I know I cannot change my fate.”
I retrieve my hand from beneath his and clutch my calves, rocking back so I am balancing. “I can,” I whisper.
A single eyebrow lifts, though he does not speak. Instead, he waits. I purse my lips, wary of speaking the thoughts that plagued me all through the long night. “I have my own thoughts, my own desires. I cannot live a life where I am forced to endure pain and confinement. You tell me I am a survivor, strong enough to endure this hunt, yet I want more than that. I want to live.”
As I speak the words, I feel a greater sense of empowerment than any time before. I feel as if freedom might actually be an attainable thing, not just a fool’s dream.
“I have lost count of the bruises that have spread across my body since I arrived here. Countless broken bones, torn flesh, and branding irons thrust upon my skin. I have been humiliated, raped publically, and pillaged in more ways than should be humanly possible.”
My chest rises and falls rapidly as I surge to my feet, staring down at him with all the fury that I possess. “I cry for help and all I hear is laughter in return. Mockery and harassment follow my footsteps. I beg for mercy and my husband strikes me. I scream and he laughs. He has taken everything from me. You speak of avenging your wife and son and that is a noble cause indeed, yet I do this for me. For those who are incapable of saving themselves.”
Tears slip between my eyes as I feel my anger begin to abate. I hug my arms about myself as my trembling lessens. When I look at Fane, I am surprised to see revulsion marring his handsome features. “Do I disgust you?”
“Not at all.” His expression shifts, though he does not give me reason for his revulsion. “This life is a cruel one. Do not expect anyone to show you mercy. You must take what is yours. You will have no rights. Only strength and your anger will help you survive.”
He reaches out and lifts my chin, a smile rooted deeply on his face. It reaches to his eyes, brightening them. “Do you wish to know how I can be content with my life, such as it is?”
I nod and hold my breath, as if he might be about to reveal a secret that could change everything. “I fight.” That is not the answer I was expecting. Fane reaches beside him and clasps the hilt of his sword. “Hold out your hand please.”
My fingers hardly tremble as he draws his blade and places it across my open palm. It is lighter than I would have imagined, the silver edge sharp and deadly. I brush my thumb along the markings etched into the blade, marveling at them. “Is this a cross?”
“It is… or rather half of one. The other is in my chambers. These are gifts from Vladimir for your training.” Fane watches as I carefully inspect the sword, testing its weight, gripping it in hand as I raise it into the air before me. It feels good in my hand. “This was my task that I was sent to retrieve. It is why I was gone.”
My breath hitches as I turn the blade and catch a glint of blue. I blink, twisting the blade again, though I cannot make the color reappear. “It is beautiful.”
“Yes, and lethal.” He reaches out and gently takes the sword from me, replacing it into the scabbard at his side. “A sword can be your greatest weapon, though it can also become a crutch. I will teach you not to need a blade. To kill with your surroundings. I will teach you to think quicker, run faster, and leap higher.”
He places a finger over my heart. His touch feels warm against my bare skin. “I will teach you to feel. Death is never easy, no matter the cause for it. Learn to respect death and you will never been tainted by it.”
Next he presses his finger to my forehead and smiles. “A sword can strike fear in your opponent if you prove you are worthy of possessing it, though if you learn to wield your mind, no one will dare to touch you again. You captured their attention with Atticus’s death, now I will teach you to claim it.”
A slow smile stretches along my face as I raise my gaze to meet his. I sense a fire burning deep within him and feel our souls bind together. He understands me, I realize and flush with pleasure. Not just my fears and doubts, yet my desire for revenge.
“I want them to fear me,” I declare without any hesitation.
“Trust me,” Fane leans in close, capturing my attention. “In time, they will all cower before you.”
TWENTY-EIGHT