Page 91 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

I shut the window, unable to listen to the screams. But they were lodged in my brain, echoing through my mind.

They said if a promise was broken, nothing would save a fae from the fate of the cursed. Releasing them wouldn’t have helped them. They were doomed to die. But why weren’t they killed? Wouldn’t a quick death be better than whatever torture they were going through?

It had been seven days since the cursed were brought to Elaros. Had they been suffering all this time?

I hadn’t heard their howls from Voron’s terrace. But Voron’s apartments were located on a much higher floor than my room and on the opposite side of the palace. And I hadn’t opened my window until now.

Pacing around my bed, I couldn’t rest. The echo of the tortured screams in my head tormented me, urging me to do something to relieve the poor souls’ pain. Maybe I could at least bring them some water? What was the point in making these people suffer?

I grabbed a shawl from my dressing room and the pitcher of drinking water left for me by the maids in case I got thirsty at night. Then I headed out.

Wrapped into the shawl, I sneaked down the many staircases to the ground floor. No one stopped me. The king and his court remained busy with their after-dinner entertainment. I hadn’t encountered that many servants on my way, either. Most of them must’ve retired to their rooms already, getting some rest before another busy day of fulfilling the king’s every wish tomorrow.

I left the palace through the door that led to the gardens. It wasn’t guarded like the main gates. The dark silhouettes of the night guards soared high above me, scanning the walls and the towers of the palace. But down under the flower arches in the gardens, the chances of someone spotting me in the dark were slim.

My silk slippers padded softly along the cobblestones of the garden path. It was quiet here. Only the breeze rustled in the vines of the arches. But as I rounded the curve of the palace wall, the howling of the cursed cut my hearing, curdling the blood in my veins.

A forest of tall spikes rose in front of me as I got closer. Spikes, twice as high as people, stood from the ground. Every single one held a body. Impaled through their pelvis and along their spines, they were held upright. It was a grotesque, morbid sight. Like a field of undead marionettes, waiting for the fingers of their puppeteer to get them moving.

Horror crawled up my back like a myriad of spider legs, chilling and paralyzing. Bile rose in my throat. My stomach spasmed at the stench of blood.

The bodies appeared partially destroyed. Huge chunks of flesh seemed to be missing, even around the spikes that held them in place.

“Water…”

The croak made me jump, my heart beating faster, as if trying to leap out of my throat.

At least one of the cursed wasn’t dead yet. I searched the forest of spikes. Unlike the rest, a body at the very edge of it was positioned horizontally, the spike piercing through the chest. Stepping closer, I recognized the slim shape and the mangled remnants of the sole wing. It was the girl whose execution I couldn’t stomach to watch.

She was the only one impaled through her chest. Such was the “mercy” the king had granted her.

Her fingers appeared to be missing, as well as her toes and most of her one remaining wing. Upon a closer look, however, I realized they weren’t missing. They had turned transparent. The edges of her wounds and scratches frayed as if disappearing into the air, moonlight piercing right through them.

The girl writhed on the spike, her screams and growls garbled and choked.

“Water…”

She was thirsty. I had to give her some water. I could at least show her that little mercy. I lurched forward with my pitcher when something grabbed me around my waist, stopping me in my tracks.

Panic surged through me. My fingers spasmed, letting go of the handle. The pitcher fell to the ground, the delicate porcelain smashing to pieces on the cobblestones. The water splashed my slippers, chilling my toes.

I whipped around, shaking with fear.

The darkness in front of me solidified in textures of velvet and fine brocade. The familiar fresh scent of rain enveloped me.

“Voron?”

I cursed his uncanny ability to be everywhere at once. Wasn’t he supposed to be in the dining room right now? Making sure nothing threatened the safety of their precious King Tiane?

“I need to go.” I tried to sidestep him. “I have to get more water now—”

He gripped my shoulders, hissing into my face, “You can’t be here, Sparrow.”

“Oh yeah? And you can?” Terror turned to anger inside me. “Did you know they were here? Suffering all this time? Of course you did. Nothing happens in this palace without you knowing. Without youorganizingit.” My voice rose. Compassion for the poor woman burned so hot inside me, it hurt.

“Quiet.” He slammed his hand over my mouth.

Flexing his arm around my middle, he dragged me away from the garden of horrors. I kicked my feet, clawing at his hand over my mouth.

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