Page 20 of Anorthic Anarchy

Even his nice moments are wrought with terror. Like with that searing first kiss, after which he so dismissively tossed me aside. Despite his seductive magic, I can’t give in. He may hurt me if I get too close. Things seem pleasant here, but I need to find my brother. This could be my only shot.

Gazing through the tall, arched windows while standing on my green velvet desk chair, I peer out over the manor grounds. Throughout the day, I’ve studied the paths surrounding the house. That’s one benefit to living in a tower, I suppose. If I can leave through the front and scale the iron fence, then I could weave through the trees and into the city below.

Then find Wyatt.

But how do I even get to the entry of this place? That’s the problem. This castle has so many turns and doors, I’d get lost, and I don’t remember the way I came in. The hallways and back rooms they’ve led me through don’t provide me with many clues about how to navigate my way around.

I may try the attack thing again, but the issue with this room is there aren’t many places to hide. The walls are round, and a single candle sconce lights up the entirety of it, though a huge iron chandelier floats above me from the turreted ceiling. There’re no shadows to hide within.

In my mind, I imagine giving Nari a flying kick to the face when she brings my next tray, then making a run for it. But it’s already past dinnertime, so morning may be my best bet. It’s when the light is at its lowest. If I had curtains in here to cover the surrounding windows, then I could make it dark enough to hide.

Maybe I could take a book and hit her in the head. That would work. I don’t want to kill anyone. Just knock her to the ground so I can run out and find my way to the front door.

That’s it. As soon as morning light breaks, I’ll prepare myself. Once I hear her unlocking the heavy door, I’ll spring into action and rush her while she holds the tray, then swing at her head with a heavy book, run down the stairs and out of a bottom door.

Excitement pours through me at the possibility of getting out. The only negative I can see is that I don’t have shoes and, after they took my wedding dress, the only item of clothing I have is this see-through red shift. It’s chilly outside, or it was during the wedding, but hopefully I can make it to someone on the streets below before I succumb to the cold.

Leaning over to the low bookcase, I findMoby Dickand hug it to my chest, slip into bed, then eventually fall asleep, dreaming of being on a ship underneath the stars.

A brushing sound alerts me awake. I sit up straight, waiting to hear it again. Taking a few deep, slow inhales, I pause. But it doesn’t come.

Lying back against my pillows, I turn my head to stare at the door. All the windows are pitch black, so it’s probably the middle of the night. Just when I think I hallucinated the sound, it happens again, and I freeze.

Through a streak of bright moonlight, I catch the reflection of the brass doorknob turning ever-so-slowly. My chest tightens with fear. Should I pretend to be asleep or jump out and attack whoever is on the other side?

Opting for the first, I close my eyes tight, but peek when the door creaks as it opens. A small woman with pink hair enters. Oh, it’s Chloe!

With a harsh whisper, she asks, “Hey. Are you awake?”

Sitting up, I whisper back, “Yeah.”

She creeps closer, but waves with her arm out toward the wide-open passageway. “Come on! Let’s go! We’ll get you out.”

My heart thuds harder, and I take the opportunity to leap from the bed and glance around for anything to take with me. It’s so dark and my mind so muddled, I can’t think of what I need to grab.

“No, leave it all. Drop that book. Let’s go. Hurry!”

As soon as I enter the landing at the top of the staircase, she shuts the door behind me and locks it. “Just so it takes them longer to find you.” She shuffles with me to the steps, then stops. “You have to go by yourself. I’m not getting whipped for you.”

Shaking my head, I whisper, “But where do I go?”

“It’s, like, six stories down, and then the door on your right leads to the first floor, then just run. This place is a maze.” Grasping my shoulders, she turns me to face her. “Good luck.”

Sprinting down the narrow steps, my chilled feet tingle with numbness, the skin on the bottoms scraping against the stones. My panting breaths echo loudly off the walls, bouncing back to my ears until I feel disoriented. To maintain my balance, I keep a palm raking along the outer wall, following it around the twists and turns. Occasionally, a candle lights the way, but it’s near impossible to tell how many floors I’ve gone. I try to count, but I think I’m scared stupid.

Four…

Five…

As if giving me another warning of danger ahead, my stomach groans loudly and twists on itself. I’m so out of shape with not being able to eat as much as I want, but I press on.

Six.

Okay… Three doors lead in different directions. But I choose the door on the right.

Grasping the iron handle, I twist it and press it open slowly.

A gasp crosses my lips as I pass into a two-story living room with deep red patterned carpeting. The plushness feels amazing on my sore feet. An oversized fireplace looms to my right, lit with a warm blaze that heats the entire area and shoots red light in rays across the center. Above the mantel is a large portrait of Consort Strauss, standing with his hand tucked into his coat pocket like a dignitary of the eighteenth century.

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