Page 35 of Down from the Tower

I killed a man who should be an ally.

And when I thought I understood all my powers, I took life as much as I saved it. Zarev’s unnatural weapon wields power I don’t understand, but I could feel the handle pulsing when I held on, like the weapon didn’t know if it should aid me or fight me for daring to touch it.

All my muddled thoughts help to drown out the pain, but it’s causing distractions too. I’m not sharp footed, I’m a little dizzy and my mind is scattered. At this rate I could be a liability to him. If I knew the castle better we could be out by now.

Unfortunately, Zarev only knows the castle a bit better than I do. We make poor company, rushing down the halls looking for an exit. More than once I stare to see if his powers have returned, but he makes no move to use his gift of shadows and zip us out of here. He seems to be adamantly avoiding it.

Soon, the halls will swarm with guards. It’ll be almost impossible to get out when news gets around about what happened in the dining room. Even worse to try and get out of Tressa.

That’s what Zarev hinted at. Modred is dead, Midas is enraged, and we both took a stance against the Golden King. We’re enemies of the crown.

A lump forms in my throat. I’m now my father’s enemy.

“Here,” Zarev gasps, grabbing my arm to lead me down another turn. We’ve continued to climb down, away from the main halls, and behind the sleek hallways in the servants' wings the castle isn’t so grand. No one stops us when we do pass by, and I imagine seeing the crown princess and a shadow man running together is a bit peculiar.

The rumors will be abundant after tonight.

Zarev turns us down a narrow hall, and I feel the air change. There’s a draft, and halfway down a short hall we find a door with a french window to look out.

There’s the gardens outside it, and I vaguely recognize a path I used to run through when I was young. It’s largely overgrown now as we push open the door, Zarev gasping as we stumble into the night.

My dress makes it hard to breathe, and I tug at the bodice again. I don’t know what the purpose of wearing this was, but it makes running away that much harder.

Zarev doesn’t stop, dragging me down the path. I see some guards in the distance but they don’t see us in the shadows. Their forms suddenly turn and rush at the sound of cries, and news about the failed dinner has to be getting out. Why else would guards leave their posts?

“Will this take us close to the wall?” Zarev gasps, his orange-red eyes practically glowing in the night. He’s held onto my arm most of the way, but if it’s for my benefit or his I’m not sure. I’ve noticed his nails seem quite sharp for a man of shadows, and he’s definitely struggling the longer we run.

I know Midas struck him with gold. Anyone else would be dead already. The fact that he’s still standing with the gold embedded in his chest is amazing. I’ve never once seen my father’s magic fail to take down an enemy.

But Zarev claims to be Death, so maybe the Golden Touch isn’t powerful enough to end him.

“Close enough. Through here.” I duck down, nearly smacking my head into a branch that’s grown in the years since I was a kid, dragging him behind me. His scythe catches before it cuts through the thinner parts of the branch and we trudge on. “I don’t know how we’re going to get over the wall. Or under. It’s impossible to breach.”

I’m rambling, and my hands shake as we walk. This is the closest I’ve ever come to freedom, and it feels just as much like destruction.

“I made it through once, Princess,” he gasps, his voice hard and stubborn as we move. “I have just enough magic to do it again.”

I’m not so sure. Zarev is doing that creepy black-blood bleeding, and he’s taking labored breaths and getting slower as we run. I might be afraid of the unknown, but right now I’m more afraid of Midas catching us.

And he will if Zarev gets any slower. I reach out to hold his hand, forcing him to keep going. I’m beginning to feel winded too, ready to use his blade to tear open the corset and let my ribs be free, but there isn’t time. He’s too hurt and if there’s any chance we don’t get thrown in the dungeons, we have to escape from Tressa.

My heart aches at the thought. This is the only place I’ve ever known.

“Come on,” I grunt, “it’s not much farther.”

Not much farther is at least another ten minutes of trudging through the thick of the underbrush, the wall barely glowing golden in the night. My hands aren’t shimmering anymore, but they are still warm to the touch and I’ve had a headache since before the fight started. Now I’m gasping along with Zarev, trying to keep from sitting down to catch my breath. My feet are bleeding inside my shoes, and if I had any sense about me, I’d kick them off.

But what will I do if I don’t have shoes? Keeping ones that don’t fit isn’t reasonable either, but I can’t will myself to part with them. I will stick out even more if I’m not wearing my shoes, or I cut my dress, or I don’t clean the blood from my sleeves.

I’ve done my best to blend in my whole life. Even when guests visit, I’m not looking for extra attention. The less curious I seem to outsiders, the less questions they will ask.

Behind us, screams erupt. People are either looking for us or learning about what happened in the hall. Maybe the dead are being assessed. Modred…

I force that thought away before I spiral. I don’t know what to think about what happened with Modred, but it wasn’t natural. It didn’t feel like me. I’m not a killer, even if my magic is.

“H-here,” I grunt, falling to my knees when we reach the wall. I don’t know what to do now that we’re here, but I do know I got us this far and if I run any more my lungs might burst inside this dress. I press my hands to the cool earth, trying to calm myself.

Zarev is nearby but I don’t hear him crashing to the ground. His breathing is labored too, and if I listen hard enough I can still hear the screams behind us.

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