Think of Rose.
Wormwart paused in the door and turned around. “All right, yeh good-fer-nothin’ mongrels! Let’s go! There’s work to be done, and the sun is rising. Come on, we’re already behind schedule!” The sky outside was lightening, turning from deep gray to the color of dirty snow. The air coming through the door was cool but fresh, smelling sharper thanks to the metallic undertone lacing the wind.
Twix, the jittery dwarf who wanted to keep her as a pet, was the quickest. He shot out the door before the others had completely registered what Wormwart had said. Avalanche, who resembled a large boulder, stomped by, nearly squishing Midnight. Luckily, he managed to wriggle out of the way as the other dwarf turned his monstrous body sideways to shuffle outside. Midnight stumbled after Avalanche, followed by Slither, who dragged his feet with a stormy look on his face. The muscular dwarf with leaves for hair stood in the corner, humming while taking his time gathering his things.
“Leaf, hurry up!” Wormwart snapped. “Yeh too, Yer Highness,” he added, gesturing to Goldentongue, who promptly turned up his chin with a “hmph.” Leaf tripped over his feet because they were moving too quickly, while Goldentongue glided past with the grace of a court lord. The silence after the dwarves’ departure was loud. Wormwart loomed in the door. The growing light stretched his shadow across the floor, making it look taller than hers.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, but she didn’t bat a lash. “Are you my guard for the day?” she asked, raising her brows.
“Guard? Ha! I have better things to do than guard yeh.”
“But aren’t you worried I’ll run away?”
“Go ahead. Yeh wouldn’t last half a day in the forest. And if the wildlife doesn’t finish you off, yeh’ll be begging to come back when the effects of the binding contract kick in.”
Natalia glanced at the intricate Marks on her wrists. She wondered what sort of pain they would inflict if she was gone for too long. Would they flare up like the Queen’s Mark and proceed to burn away her flesh? Or would it be much worse?
Wormwart stomped up to her. “Time to prove yer worth, gurl. If the house isn’t spotless by dusk, I’ll string yeh up by yer toes until all the blood rushes to yer head.”
Somehow, she wouldn’t put it past him. “I’ll need a broom, a bucket, and some rags.”
“Check the cellar.”
He turned and swept out the door, closing it with a bang.
She walked to the window, wiping clear a spot so she could see the front yard. The outside of the glass was still opaque with dirt, making it hard to see the retreating figures. God, she wanted to sleep.
Sighing, she raised her arms above her head and bent over, stretching the sore muscles in her lower back. It had been a long time since she had been this achy. Every nerve felt fried and taut. What little sleep she got only seemed to put her more on edge. Worry gnawed at her thoughts and heart, coupled with her memories of Rose, her promise to Wormwart, and the memory of the tingling that bound her to him the moment she sealed her fate. Her face grew hot; she could have slapped herself for being so careless.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Now was not the time to be angry with herself. She was alive, and while she still breathed, Rose had a chance – if she were not already dead.
Natalia squeezed her eyes closed. You can’t think that way, not if you want to get out of here.
A few deep breaths later, she had calmed down enough to think rationally. After sliding the bolt home on the door, she found the remains of a candle on the cluttered tabletop and lit it on the open hearth. It would not last long. The wax was a shriveled stump; what was left of the wick poked desperately above the spent candle. She walked across the room to the door on the other side. Taking a deep breath, she opened it, trying hard not to breathe in the fumes of rotting meat, and quickly opened the cellar door and descended the ladder.
The room looked much darker while her eyes adjusted. She could not explain why, but the pump of her heart picked up as the shadows danced around the candlelight. Feeling her shoulders knot with tension, she let her gaze slowly circle the room.
The cellar was packed. A narrow pathway curved through piles of what appeared to be junk: silver gauntlets, rusty swords with broken blades, unmarked bags, and even more moldy books. Treading lightly, she walked farther into the cellar, searching for anything resembling cleaning supplies.
After stepping on a nut and giving herself a scare, she followed a trail of nuts to a sack. The bag was filled with walnuts and shriveled red ovals she took to be berries. Rat droppings littered the floor, and she wrinkled her nose. The contents of the bag would have to be thoroughly washed, but at least they looked edible.
Grabbing the edges of the bag and being careful so as not to spill its contents, she pried the sack free from the pile of things on top of it. With the bag gone, a small mountain of shiny items tumbled down with a fantastic clatter, settling around her feet. Her eyes flicked upward, seeing a small, cedar chest. Curious, she set the bag and candle down and undid the leather straps holding the lid closed. The chest opened, releasing a puff of dust. Inside were several gowns of varying colors, though they were plain in design – peasant’s attire.
She dug through the chest, pulling forth dresses and tunics. She held each one up to her only to set it aside with a frown. They were much too big. Her frown deepened as she went through the chest. It was nearly empty. Then her fingers brushed soft velvet. Lifting the candle, the light flooded the inside of the chest and she saw an exquisite red gown with silver leaves embroidered along the neckline and sleeves. A silver belt lay across it, along with a sheath for a dagger and a pouch with a metal clasp.
She set the candle back down before reaching into the chest and lifting the gown, holding it against her. The bell sleeves flared out at the elbows, dripping to the floor with white lace. The front was loose because the laces were missing in the corset, but it didn’t look huge like the others. She lifted the belt, examining it. The sheath would come in handy, but she would have to find another dagger.
After rummaging through several piles, she finally found a dagger whose blade was not yet rusted with age. Smiling, she slipped the dagger into the belt’s sheath. It poked out about half an inch because the blade was a little too long, but it would do.
For a few seconds, the shadows in the room prevailed as the candle clung to its last few minutes of life.
Standing, she retrieved the candle, tossed the dress and belt over one arm, and grabbed both the sack and the dagger with her free hand. Scanning the room, she frowned. She still needed to find a broom and a bucket.
There.
She walked over to the shelf of potions, where a broom was caught beneath the sack she had hauled back through the woods yesterday. Bending her knees, she reached for the broom with the hand that clutched the candlestick. Hot wax dribbled onto her fingers and she cursed, dropping the candle. It hit the floor with a splat and the light was gone.
She held her breath, blinking in the sudden darkness. Her heartbeat picked up again.
Stay calm and find the door. Use the map in your mind.
Tugging the broom free, she pictured the room in her head and started walking. Things clanked and snapped as she banged into piles, which only sent her heart racing even more. A low growl came from behind her, and she froze, listening. Several seconds of silence passed before she released her breath. She took several more steps forward. The growl was louder.
Angrier.
That sent a bolt of ice straight from her heart to her stomach. Before she could stop herself, she looked over her shoulder.
Glowing violet slits opened up in the darkness. There were no pupils, yet somehow she knew the strange eyes were fixed right on her.
Sucking in a breath so quickly she choked, she whirled and stumbled, holding on tightly to her things. She ran. Her shin slammed into something hard – the ladder. She looked up, faintly seeing the outline of the meat dangling in the overhead room.
The growling morphed into snarls as she climbed faster and faster. She tossed the sack and the broom over the edge, hearing them land with a clatter, and hauled herself up and over before slamming the door shut. Her chest shook with the effort to breathe as she scrambled to her feet, snatching the items off the floor and running into the next room. She had the door to the meat room shut and locked within three heartbeats.
Keeping her gaze glued to the door, she backed away, trembling. There had not been an animal in there last night.
The table bumped into her hips and she clutched it, listening hard and eyeing the floorboards as if expecting black claws to rip through them at any moment.
The air was still, and all was silent.
Trembling, she tossed her equipment onto the table. She grabbed a chair, pulled it out, and fell into it with a shaky sigh. Feeling dizzy from adrenaline, she bent over and placed her head between her knees, feeling her temples throb with each heartbeat. Eventually, her breathing slowed, and the dizziness in her head faded. She sat up, rubbing at her itchy eyes.
It hadn’t been real. Maybe it had been a hallucination, perhaps from lack of food and sleep.
Sleep…
Standing before she had a chance to nod off, she searched the cupboards and closets until she found a bucket before walking to the front door and letting herself out. The air was fresh and crisp. The forest glittered around her, looking alien and cold in the daylight. Moonlight seemed to flatter it more than sunlight, for the day showed its ugliness.
She didn’t waste any time, not when a predator could be waiting in the woods, ready to eat her. Within thirty seconds, she went to the well, pumped her bucket full of water, and hauled it back inside before locking the door.
Setting the bucket on the table, she reached into the sack and grabbed a handful of nuts and berries. They were not as old as she thought. Once the dirt and dust was washed from their surfaces, they gleamed, ripe and fresh. She sniffed a berry before licking it and finally taking a bite. Sweetness burst over her tongue as she chewed, relishing the taste as she swallowed. The pain in her stomach lessened the more she ate. Though it was hard, she wrapped up the sack before she could eat all the food, since who knew where or when her next meal would come from.
Afterward, she went upstairs to her room, found a nook in which to tuck away the sack, and laid the dress and dagger on the blanket that served as her bed. She longed to put the gown on, to feel the fine velvet brushing against her skin. With great discipline, she forced herself to leave it be. No use changing now and dirtying it up.
Rolling up her sleeves, she bounced down the stairs. After finding a worn-out rag and a small brush with broken bristles, she set about at the monumental chore of tidying the place up. It looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years, left in a state of abandon while the dwarves lived around the muck and trash. Keeping her frustration buried within, she scrubbed, swept, mopped, and dusted. Sleep called to her as she labored. Every movement brought a new series of aches and pains as her body protested, but she kept going, working without stopping. After the bottom level looked presentable, she grabbed her things and went upstairs, which appeared to be in even greater disrepair. She sighed. Somewhere along the way, her mind shut itself down, but she managed to sleepwalk her way through scrubbing and mopping that level as well.
She labored all day, thinking about the glowing violet eyes in the cellar, the dwarves, and her sister. By the time she finished, the sun was setting.
Grabbing a wet rag, she washed the dirt and crusted blood from her arms and legs, wishing she could take her time. The light in the window was quickly fading, the sky once again turning dark gray. Soon it would be nightfall, and the dwarves would be home.
She found a moth-eaten towel in a laundry basket. After drying herself, she scurried into her room, where she tossed the towel to the side and pulled on the red velvet gown. She smiled slightly. It felt so much better to be clean and wearing something comfortable. The material of the gown was soft and supple, like rose petals.
Briefly, she wondered who had worn this dress and what had happened to her.
Doing the best she could, she combed her hair out with her fingers and twined it into a braid. Then she secured the silver belt around her waist, tucking the dagger into her boot for now. As it was, she was taking a chance on being accused of stealing just for wearing the dress, though she suspected the dwarves wouldn’t have as much a problem with that as they would the dagger.
She tucked the pendant inside the neckline of the gown; the bottom of her vision caught the outline of the pouch attached to the belt. Curious, she lifted the flap and felt inside. Soft paper grazed her fingertips, and she pulled out a tiny scroll of yellow parchment. She unrolled it. Elegant cursive script looped across the page.
“Happy eighteenth birthday,” she read aloud. “Love always, Grim.”
She blinked. Grim. The name sounded familiar, but not so much that she could immediately recall why. She tucked the note back into the pouch. This dress must have been a present to the girl who lived here, a token of affection between father and daughter, perhaps.
Natalia’s eyes stung as she thought of her father, and she swiped at them with her sleeve.
The orange glow of flames caught her eye and she moved to the window. Several torches were moving closer to the cottage at a fast pace.
Lifting the skirt, she hurried downstairs, prepared to meet the dwarves at the door. She made it as far as the dining room window when something shot through the glass, shattering it and zooming right past her face. She ducked, covering her face with her hands as glass rained down all around. Shouts came through the open window; Wormwart’s voice was easy to point out. It was gruff, as usual, but there was an edge to it. Her ears strained to listen, trying to make out what he was saying. The arrow embedded in the far wall still vibrated with movement.
She frowned, standing and peering out the window.
Another arrow sailed through. She threw her back against the wall as Twix burst through the door, a look of panic in his eyes. Goldentongue and Midnight ran inside behind him.
Natalia went to Midnight, gripping him by his small shoulders and shaking him once. “What’s happening?”
“Marauders,” Goldentongue said, making a face like the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “They ambushed us.”
“Marauders?” she murmured. “Could they be same ones who have been sacking the royal storehouses?”
“What did you say?” Twix asked, shaking uncontrollably.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Do you know how many there are?”
“Too many for my liking,” Goldentongue said. “They’re like cockroaches. They grow in number every time we meet.”
“You’ve crossed paths before?”
Goldentongue’s eyes narrowed. “A few times. They favor the caves where we work.”
Shouts and the clang of metal as swords were drawn came from outside. Natalia looked through the window, unable to see more than swaying torches, the flash of orange light on blades, and the outlines of dark shapes.
For a moment, she entertained the thought of letting the marauders finish the dwarves, if they could, or possibly using the distraction to escape. Maybe she could find a way to break the binding contract on her own. Via had said a binding curse could only be broken by the one who Marked you, but perhaps binding contracts worked differently. Either way, she needed to get back to Rose, no matter what the cost.
Midnight touched her arm, and Natalia looked down into his frightened face, feeling a wave of guilt for wishing him harm.
Sighing hard, she drew the dagger from her boot.
“Where are you going?” Goldentongue asked.
“We have to help them.”
“But, but –” Twix stuttered. “They’ll kill you!”
“They can try,” she said, running past him.
“Wait!” Twix called, standing in the door. “Wormwart told us to protect his investment – you!”
“Then you best come outside!” Natalia yelled back over her shoulder.
The moon was huge, a large white orb with gray craters rising over the woods to the east. Stars twinkled overhead, cheerful and oblivious to the bloodshed below. The whistle of arrows flying past filled the air as she entered the fray.
Wormwart picked up a man robed in black clothes and pitched him into another marauder, sending them both toppling backward. Avalanche was swinging his arms madly, knocking out men left and right while arrows and swords bounced off his rock-hard skin. A large buck was draped over his shoulders, an arrow buried in its hindquarters.
Natalia rushed toward a man, knocking his blade back and kneeing him in the stomach. A flash of metal to her left; she turned, parrying a blow, and sliced at the forearm of her attacker. He yowled, dropping the sword, then pulled a knife from his belt and gouged. She dropped her knife down, stepping to the side of the gouge and slicing the top of his wrist. He cried out and dropped the knife. She took the opportunity to form a fist and hurl it into his jaw, sending him reeling.
A gurgling, choked scream came behind her, and she whirled. A man lay dead at her feet, blood pooling around his throat. Slither was wiping his dagger clean, a malicious grin on his face. “You’re welcome,” he said, then slinked back into the shadows.
Voices argued behind her in hushed tones.
“It’s a lost cause, Malachite,” a man said. “Soon it will be completely dark. We need to draw back.”
“And what will we tell the women and children?” a grave voice replied. “That we have no food yet again?”
Natalia searched the trees but could not find the source of the voices. She looked again at the buck on Avalanche’s shoulder. It was mostly brown, with silver spots along the fur, and its antlers were only partially metal. The rest were ivory, looking perfectly normal.
A White So Red Page 8
