Page 22 of Lured By the Dus
What if Oren’s protection didn’t work, and the sorcerers caught me? Would they strip me down, tie me to the altar, and bleed me? Knowing my uncle, he’d do nothing to stop them, and with his appetite for violence, might even participate. After all, he’d let me marry the Devil of Dowler. I shivered as I remembered the way Oren had hurled the glass into the fireplace, shattering on the stone. Unlike my uncle, Oren didn’t use his strength for abuse. I recalled his arm around my waist, the way his fingers had brushed my thigh when he’d discovered the knife, and the way he’d kissed me on our wedding night. My skin flushed hot and threads of desire coursed through me. It was all too much, too fast.
After bathing, I awoke Pip to keep me company for the rest of the day, aware of the absurdity of relying on a hideous stone statue for comfort. In actuality, I just wanted a hug. Rubbing my nose, I thought of my parents and our home full of love and laughter. My mother’s soothing hugs, my father’s infectious laughter. That was where I belonged, but ever since the carriage accident, nothing had been the same.
Mother had passed quickly, but father had lingered in unimaginable pain. On his deathbed, he had me send a letter to his brother, and now I wondered if father had known the dark history of Dowler. As soon as he was of age, he’d run away from home and left his brother, ten years his elder, to rule the city. My father made a name for himself in Solynn, and the first I’d heard of Dowler was when he’d asked for help, unwilling to leave me alone. It was no use feeling sorry for myself, but grief had clouded my judgement. If I’d been thinking clearly then, I would have rejected the invitation to Dowler, stayed in Solynn, and figured out my finances for myself.
Oren did not return that evening. Slightly irritated with him for leaving me alone, I shut myself in my room, both disconcerted and relieved when I discovered it had no lock. While it was easy for me to escape, it would also be simple for someone to enter my room. Even with the knife under my pillow and Pip resting at the foot of the bed, I did not feel safe.
Eventually, I drifted off to sleep and a nightmare full of blood, smoke, and sacrifice filled my mind. I woke with a start, sweating, pulse racing, and sat up, pulling the covers up to my chin. “Pip,” I whispered. “I need light.”
I heard his obedient thump as he hopped off the bed and trotted to the fireplace. A tiny flicker appeared, gaining strength, and I relaxed. Funny how light made everything seem okay, while the darkness was terrifying. “Thank you,” I told him, patting the bed. “You can come back up here now.”
He joined me, nose nuzzling against my hand. I petted him to soothe my nerves, still unused to the coolness of his stone body.
A thud came from above me and I stiffened, my eyes drawn to the ceiling. It came again, followed by a cry—more like a squeak of terror, quickly snuffed out. Heart pounding, I snatched my dagger and held it in both hands, pulling my knees up to my chest. Eyes wild, I waited, wondering if Oren was back and sneaking around the castle, causing chaos at night. But the sound did not come again, and finally, I went back to sleep.
Oren did not return the next day, and I found myself unable to focus on anything but the idea of escape. Once again, my attempt to leave by walking out was thwarted by the staircases that only led up, leaving me to my last resort. Back in the room, Pip, my guard, didn’t stop me from yanking off the bedcovers and tying the sheets into knots. First, I stripped Oren’s bed, because I was angry with him, and then my bed. Although I knew little about knots, I made them as tight as possible, creating a makeshift rope before taking it out to the balcony. I tied one end around the railings, tugging on it to ensure it would hold my weight. The rope only went halfway down, but I’d used all the sheets, and when I asked Pip for rope, he stared at me blankly. Likely not allowed to help me escape.
I packed the satchel with clothes, put my cloak around my shoulders, and wrapped the remains of my lunch in a napkin. There was a trail through the woods, and if I followed it during daylight, I’d be fine. There was still the matter of money, but I could sell my clothes, trade, or barter. My first step was escaping the castle. When at last I was ready, I tossed the satchel over the balcony, watching it fall to the ground with a bang. There. One step done.
Taking a deep breath, I swung my legs over the balcony, holding tight to the railings, hoping my makeshift rope would work. If it didn’t, I was dead, but it was better than wasting away in the castle, waiting for Oren to return. Two days wasn’t long, but I was impatient and after what I’d seen in the vault, I didn’t want to be caught in a battle of magic between Oren and Lord Faren.
Fisting the sheet in my hand, I tugged on it, testing my weight. It held, so I slowly lowered myself down. Instead of looking at the ground, I kept my gaze on the balcony, and Pip wagging his tail, as though he was happy I was escaping. It was hard to read his expression since only his eyes changed, but I liked to think he was pleased with my cleverness.
Halfway down, the sheets started to rip, and I froze, arms straining, feet dangling. I searched the railing and immediately saw that while my knots held, my weight was tearing my rope ladder. Swallowing hard, I moved, but the sheet ripped further and I dropped fast. I came to a sudden stop, swaying dangerously in the wind, the ground still two stories below me.
If I didn’t catch hold of something, I’d fall to my death. Suppressing a moan, I brought one hand down, my entire body straining with effort. Sweat dripped off my neck as the sun beat down, hot and relentless. I moved another hand, holding my breath. It was working. I was moving.
Lowering myself hand over hand, I forced myself to think positive thoughts. The tear had made my rope ladder longer. Soon I’d reach the ground and dash off into the forest. The tales of people being lost in the woods were just that, a fable. All I needed to do was follow the trail, and I’d reach the city before nightfall. I took a slow breath, unable to keep my hands from trembling. The knot holding the sheet to the railing gave way with a gentle whooshing sound, and I fell.
I stretched out my arms, too surprised to cry out as wind rushed by, tugging at me like fingers, as if it could stop the pull of gravity. A sweet sound rushed to my ears, the call of a flute. What a pleasant sound to listen to as I plummeted to my death. Still, my body went rigid as I braced myself for impact, and the world around me slowed—the stones of the castle, the foliage of the trees, the beams of sunlight, and fat, lazy clouds. Maybe this was what death was like, knowing it would be over soon and finding a sudden appreciation for life. I waited for a sob to break. Instead, I landed on something hard and sprawled on the ground.
My first thought was that the fall didn’t hurt nearly as much as I expected it to. My second was that I was alive, and nothing was broken. Hands clamped around my arms and dragged me to my feet. I looked up into Oren’s scowling face and my heart sank. No, no, no. I hadn’t come this far to be recaptured by my jailer. I’d just felt proud of myself for escaping.
“What madness possessed you to do such a thing?” he snapped, his eyes going from me to the balcony, to the rope of sheets, which lay like a dead snake on the ground.
“You were gone for two days,” I retorted. “I didn’t think you were coming back, so I decided to leave. And your enchanted castle won’t let me out.”
He glowered at me, eyes dark. “That was idiotic. You forced me to save you with my flute.”
Ah, the music. Of course it had been him, but I wasn’t ready to forgive or forget, and his anger made me bristle. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t left me alone.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t tried to escape. I made a deal with you, but somehow it’s not good enough. Is it?”
“It’s too much,” I protested as he snatched up my bag and ushered me around the castle. “Your plan is impossible. I’m only human, not meant to get in the middle of a magical war.”
“That’s not what this is about,” he said tightly, pausing as his foot hit something that lay on the ground.
He bent to pick it up, and my heart sank as I realized it was the leather journal my aunt had given me. Dropping the satchel, he picked it up, frowning as it fell open.
My heart raced, and I was grateful I’d burned the note from my aunt but unsure how he’d react.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “This is yours, isn’t it?”
What else could I say? “Yes.”
His amber eyes blazed as they went from me to the book, to the satchel, and I watched as he put the pieces together. “Your aunt gave you this, and the knife, and what else? Did she ask you to find out all my secrets? Learn about magic so you could turn me over to them?”
Each word cut like a knife, as if I were betraying him. I didn’t know what to think or say. Mutely, I allowed him to take me back to the castle, feeling his wrath simmer. It was only when we were inside that he released me, jaw working as he glared at me.
