Thank you so much to Erin for editing for me.
There's one more part to this one shot after this. Thanks for all the messages! I had surgery and the recovery was way more intense than I planned lol. For those who asked, Blackwater Curse will be updated next!
Have a great weekend :)
The air is squeezed right out of my lungs.
My gasping only stops when Evelyn clears her throat and instructs me not to move.
"Hold still. You're making this harder than necessary," Evelyn chastises. She grips my side tighter, and then informs me that when she gets to three, she'll tighten the laces one final time. "It doesn't hurt if you don't move. You'll get used to this. I promise."
I don't even have a chance to argue.
She counts quickly, and on three, the pain is so intense that I can't breathe at all. My organs are squished thanks to the tight-fitting corset, and I struggle to suck in any air. Despite my panic, Evelyn merely smiles and shakes her head. She's been pushing this on me for a week now, insisting my clothes were not meant for royalty. The plain dress I'd arrived in had been taken to be washed, but she'd not returned it. Instead, I was given other clothes –stiff and heavy, restrictive in several ways –and told I'd eventually prefer them.
While I could admit the fabric was nice –it was rich and expensive, in colors and of a thickness I could never have purchased myself –it was clearly meant to keep me docile. A few days ago, I was forced into a particularly heavy dress made of gold that was so immense I could barely move. Evelyn insisted it would be perfect for a ball, but combined with the high shoes, the numerous layers of petticoats, and a fitted bodice she tightened until I protested, I could barely keep it on for more than an hour.
I knew what she was doing.
Even if these clothes are meant for royalty, they are also meant to be a trap. I can't escape if I can't breathe, and there's no use in trying to push Landon away if I can't run.
"It's too tight," I gasp, trying to think of a way out of this. Evelyn promised it would loosen once I calmed down, but today, I think she might be trying to kill me.
"It looks fine," she insists. She exhales heavily when I stumble, tripping over the too long hem, and we both know it's not fine. "Alright. It might be a smidge too tight. I'll loosen it, but you have to promise me you'll try it tighter next week."
"Fine," I lie, desperate for relief. She loosens the corset enough that I can breathe, then swears when I wrench away from her. "Are you trying to hurt me?"
"For fuck's sake Everly, you cannot be a queen if you cannot look the part!"
"He's not a king," I hiss. "None of you are royalty. No one even knows you live here."
I rush to the side of the room, kicking the skirt out of my way, and moving my hand to my back. I fumble with the laces she's undone, and some God must be looking out for me. I'm able to pull the laces free, and with enough wiggling, my ribs expand back to their normal position.
"He's not a king, and there's no reason for me to wear this." I square off against her, and her mouth is so tight you'd think I'd insulted her personally. "We never agreed on this. He's not even dressed half the time."
"I'm working on that," she murmurs, but her expression is despondent, since I've won this battle. "Alright. I give up. You can take it off if you can get it off, and I won't ask you again. But you'll wear it at the wedding, and if you pass out, it'll be your own fault."
"Of course."
The panic returns as I try to unlace the corset higher, but the angle is impossible. The blondes from the tavern wore something similar, but theirs laced in the front. This one is torturous, especially when I realize I can't reach very far. My struggle amuses Evelyn, so much so, that she eventually sits down on the bed and rolls her eyes.
"Would you like my help?" Evelyn offers, her dark eyes watching me flounder. She doesn't look so displeased anymore, mostly because she wants me to trust her. "I'll make you a deal. If I take it off, can you try again in a few days?"
"No," I refuse, and she knows why. "You said not until the wedding."
"At least let me loosen the top section. Then I'll go fetch your lunch." She rises from the bed, and I reluctantly accept her help.
Trusting her is risky, but I don't have much choice.
"Just turn and face the window," she instructs. "I know you don't want this…but it's for your own good, you know. Think of it this way, it'll give you the figure Landon wants, and it'll display your discipline. Everyone will be impressed, especially when they see your wedding dress. It's a fantastic way for the town to realize whose side you're on."
I stay silent, until I yelp when she retightens the laces, so tight I see stars.
"You will look like who he wants, and that's all there is to it. Your father promised us you'd listen," she pauses, clearly aware I'm struggling to get any air into my lungs. "And if you don't, then we'll have to bring him back here."
"I can't…I can't…"
It's hard to form a coherent sentence.
Evelyn is not outright cruel toward me, but in very subtle ways, she's shown me who's in charge. My breakfast has been late, and each day, it consisted of less than the day before. I was left alone, for longer periods of time, and when she showed up, it was merely to make sure I was alive. Today, she waited until I'd bathed. The water was chillier than normal, and the skies outside matched my mood. I was already pretty miserable when she showed up with the corset, and she eventually wore me down enough that I tried it on, thinking I might get on her good side.
I was wrong.
"You'll listen from here on out, won't you?"
She tightens the corset even more, and the last thing I remember is her softly telling me this all for my own good.
"Fuck."
The word dies on my lips as I walk down the hallway. Above me, there is a pathway that connects another wing to another floor of endless rooms. The walls in this section are cold and gray, occasionally muffling the sound of someone yelling something or banging on something, and the flooring is a dark, heavy wood. Dramatic portraits line this section, portraying Landon and his family as the rightful royalty of the town. At the very end of the hallway, Tobias appears in a single picture, and the disconnect from his family is clear as day.
Dressed to the nines, his family beams with pride. He has an expression of horror, captured by whomever painted the picture, right down to the wrinkle of his brow.
I stop by this picture, wondering if he knew it was still here.
I try to imagine him growing up in this castle, walking this very way. To anyone else, living here would be breathtaking. In order to give Landon the world he wanted, Evelyn has worked hard to restore the castle. While the outside is crumbling, the inside holds sheer beauty and opulence. Two story high stained-glass windows sparkle when there is sunlight, and archways span rooms the size of my whole house. There is a library filled with books, but I'm not allowed in there. Someone has built dining rooms and foyers on every floor, and there are numerous rooms with doors that are always locked.
There are tunnels. Torch lit routes leading through the castle, and small spiral staircases so narrow, one would fall to their death if they slipped. Floors I've never seen before, and floors I'm not allowed on. I try to memorize the layout as best I can, but each day brings darkness, and the disheartening realization that I am trapped here.
As the days pass by, seven since the letter arrived, six since I hid it beneath the dresser, far back in a corner filled with cobwebs, and five since Evelyn announced the storm was coming, nothing is any better.
The letter that Evelyn handed me was not from Courtney, despite having her name signed at the bottom. After reading it several times, I was convinced it was from Eric. Even though it was written in Courtney's handwriting, I knew the words belonged to him. The phrasing was sharp and curt, right down to the news of my father's decisions.
As payment for Eric finding him, my father had signed the farm over to him. There was an agreement that he could stay there, living and working with less stress than before, but it now belonged to Eric. If I ever returned to the village, I could live with my father, but I would be working for Eric.
Again.
The black letters hinted that if I found this unsatisfactory, I could go find Eric to make a second deal, but only if I was brave enough. It ended with a courteous goodbye, wishing me all the best in my new adventure in Neverland.
I read the letter over and over, carefully deciphering the hidden meaning. The reference to the book I read while curled up on Eric's couch was enough to keep me going. His words told me he planned on me returning to the village, one way or another.
At least, that's what I'm hoping.
My time in the castle is beginning to weigh on me. It's growing hard to tell what is real and what isn't. Days and nights blur, and I spend a lot of my time asleep. This morning, I awoke to Evelyn announcing she would help me wash my hair, and when I sat up, her gasp told me I wasn't looking so great. I'd been avoiding the mirrors in the room the best I could, but today, I had no choice. She ushered me into the bathroom, insisted I undress, and told me she'd return when I was in the water.
I pulled the nightgown off slowly, stopping to stare at myself in the dim lighting.
My reflection looked nothing like me.
My skin held the ghostly pallor of someone locked away inside a castle. My hair was tangled, matting near the ends where Evelyn used it to tie together, and limp. My eyes held no life, only the barest hint of awareness behind them. The bathroom suite would normally have me over the moon, but it was a stark reminder that I did not belong here. That I was trapped here, inside stone walls and steep staircases.
I sunk beneath too hot water in a tub two size too big, and pretended this was Eric's home, and it was temporary. I hated thinking of him, but I knew he'd thrive here. There was enough excess and display of riches that he'd come alive within these walls. He'd stalk up and down the stairs with glee, ready to hunt whatever crossed his path. He had the power and arrogance of a real king, unlike Landon.
I forced away the image of Landon's too sharp face in favor of thinking of Eric, even though I shouldn't.
The mere thought of him makes everything burn; my chest, my stomach, between my legs. I'd willingly given him everything in hopes of getting anything in return. I knew he'd left me here because he saw the writing on the wall: he either lost everything when Landon's family murdered us for trespassing, or he left me behind and gained another property.
It was an easy choice.
I no longer felt much insult over it, given the way things are. I do feel insult over how Eric remained so stoic when we parted ways. A stiff goodbye, his expression as rigid as the stone this castle is made of, and his shoulders up near his ears. I never saw if he looked back, never gave him the chance to catch my look of despair, and it was for the best. I had to fight my way out of this myself, and he knew that.
I didn't get to wallow in the melancholy of a man who had willingly left me here for too long.
Deciding we were wasting time, Evelyn appeared to scrub my hair and insisted she do it a few times. When she was done, Evelyn braided my hair, picked out a dress –one that smelled of the secrets of their previous kidnapping victims, and told me I need to visit Landon.
He was, as she so thoughtfully put it, not especially violent today. He'd come down with a cold, something he probably caught from living in a wing of the castle cut off from any sort of heat or warmth, and was miserable. Last night, he snapped and sniveled through a painful dinner, storming off when Evelyn's sympathy didn't make him happy. Even Marcus refrained from rolling his eyes until Landon left, then he threw me a tight smile and returned to his meal.
Their patience with him was wearing thin.
They'd decided it was up to me to soothe the raging beast who lived here. They were hoping I could change him, soften him, acclimate him to the world he wanted to rule. I listed to Marcus remind me that Landon was a good person, or at least, he had been. Marcus swore up and down that deep inside, Landon is a hurt man who just needs someone to love him.
I gagged on my soup.
Eric had taught me that no one changes. No one can go from monster to man, especially not the one who lives in the west wing, spending his nights sharpening bones into knives.
With a heavy heart, I agreed to see Landon, if only to see if I can kill him.
The thought is preposterous.
He outweighs me, is much taller, and isn't sane. But there's a chance that I can hurt him before he really hurts me, and make it out of the castle before Evelyn realizes I'm gone.
Unfortunately, for me, that day is not today.
"Do you love me?"
His dark eyes flash with unapparelled, delighted violence. Landon reclines on his bed, watching me from a careful distance away. I've learned not to get too close to him, especially not like this. When his family is around, they are quick to intervene, but right now, they are not in here. Evelyn warned me she had a few things to do this morning, and my best bet was to make sure Landon stayed happy.
It was a warning, and I wasn't stupid enough to ignore it.
"You should love me. I am going to be the king. I am the king. I'm going to rule over your shitty village with an iron fist."
"How can I love you? I don't even know you," I answer carefully, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. His shirt is a dark one, stained with something that looks like blood, and it makes me nauseous. His hair is long, long enough to make it look like it's never been cut, and greasy. "Maybe after I get to know you."
"Did you love him?" Landon sits up, and his hands clench into fists when I look away. "Answer me, girl."
"My name is Everly," I remind him softly, as though quiet words will soothe his rage. "And who? My father? Yes, I did."
"Not him," Landon scoffs. He pulls himself onto his knees, then crouches down like an animal. "The idiot who owns the tavern. Tobias warned me all about him. He said he's not very bright. He said he's too hung up on making sure everyone lusts over him."
"Eric is very smart." I pick at the heavy blanket, tracing my fingers over a worn thread. "I imagine Tobias wouldn't like him. Not after Eric got the tavern."
"It should belong to me," Landon pauses, watching me intently. "I should be the owner. People should want to see me. Mother says they will. She said you'll help us. They like you. She says you know everyone in town."
I nod, unwilling to admit I only know people because of the bakery. I've kept myself away from most, but it appears my father has told them a different story. "I know some. I know Eric."
"Do they like you? Because I don't. I think you're hideous," Landon sits up even straighter, and I know what's coming. "But Eric doesn't think your hideous. I imagine he'd like to love you. I could see it on his face when he left. The hunter finally lost. His biggest prize belongs to me, and I'll make him remember what he can't have. Even if I don't want it."
I move just in time.
Landon leaps at me, clawing and scratching for something to take hold of as he lands. He hits the end of his bed right as I jump away, and his howl is ear piercing when he attacks again.
"I should send him your hair. He'd like that. He kept looking at you, the poor sap. So close to what he wants, but he'll never have. Not like I will." Landon screams, lunging at me once more. But this time, I can't get away fast enough. He grabs a fistful of my hair and knocks me down. My head hits the edge of his nightstand, causing stars to burst in front of my eyes, and he yanks my head back. "He's been here before. In my castle, nosing around like an arrogant bastard. I saw him. I saw him –"
I hit Landon as hard as I can.
It's nowhere near deadly, especially being off balance, but my fist hits his nose with a painful thud. He screams when the blood pours down his face. I use the opportunity to scramble backwards, trying to get out of his way before he can reach me.
"What the…" He gasps, his hands flying to his face. The blood smears everywhere, and his deranged appearance makes me want to vomit. I try to move away further, but it feels like I'm moving through water. "You wretched girl! I'll hurt you even worse. I'll kill you. I'll–"
"Landon!"
Evelyn's voice interrupts his, and her horror mirrors my own. I have wondered at what point she would find him dangerous. She's been able to overlook his violence since it serves her, but now, he's about to ruin her plans.
"What did you do to her?"
"To her?" He recoils, then pushes himself tall. The blood drips down his face, coating his teeth and turning them red. His eyes are fixed right on his mother, narrowing when she looks only at me. "She did this to me. She's evil. She's an evil witch."
"She's hardly a witch. She's here to love you. She's here to help you. You have to be civil to oversee the kingdom. You can be a hero. You can –"
She says nothing more.
Her scream sends Marcus flying into the room, and there are others with him. I don't recognize anyone, but they go straight to Landon, tackling him to the ground before he can crow in triumph. Marcus ignores his wife in favor of heading toward me, and her shriek is ear piercing.
"Everly, are you okay? Are you alright? Are you bleeding?" Marcus' words sound far away, even though he's right in front of me, one hand pressed against my hair as he struggles to hold me in place. There is panic all over his face, especially when Evelyn struggles to her feet. "Everly, say something."
"I want to go home."
The room spins woozily. Beside me, Evelyn collapses. The sharpened bone is deep in her side, buried to the hilt. She blinks in disbelief, and across the room, Landon groans as one of the men forces him to drink something. One pries his jaw open, wide and feral, and the other pours a liquid into his mouth until he gags.
I'm given the same thing.
After a few minutes, everything is fuzzy. Marcus becomes a blur of nightmares and daydreams. I can faintly make out his pleas for me to be okay, simply because I am the last option for his son, then my head turns heavy. I eventually close my eyes, because there is no point to staying awake, and in that moment, I wish for death.
"Bonjour."
"Ello!"
"Bonsoir!"
"Shut up. It's morning, you imbecile. And hey, I think she's waking up!"
I blink away a day's worth of sleep. My body is slow to catch up, the drugged feeling lingering as I pry my eyes open, and I'm met with a talking candlestick. He hops close on the bed, the flame wavering and flickering as he tilts toward me. Behind him, a clock shakes his head, and his cogs tick in disapproval as a china cup joins them.
"Hi, I'm Karl!"
I shut my eyes.
When I open them again, the candlestick bows dramatically, and his expression is the same one Rylan had when he asked Eric how I was paying him. "Did you know I speak French? I bet you didn't know that."
"Go away," I swat at all of them. The cup goes flying, landing on the floor with a thud, and his weak 'ow' is muffled. I know full well that I am dreaming, and this castle has not come to life. I shake my head to wake up, but nothing happens. The world doesn't unblur, nor does the clock stop speaking.
Only a flash of pain, and the sticky feeling of blood in my hair.
"Are you ever coming back? Eric isn't very happy these days. I'd go as far as to say, he's quite miserable." The clock crumples inward, sorrow crossing his face. "He's trying to come up with a plan, but it's not working. He's not very happy with your father, either."
"How can you talk? You're a clock," I sit up, and the whole room is alive. The dresser hums a strange tune, opening up to show me the clothes I've been given, then rearranges them in a colorful pattern. "Is everything in here alive?"
"We've all been cursed," the candlestick announces dramatically. "Unfortunately, in this one, you must save yourself. It's the only way!" He leans back, and this time, his flame nearly catches the sheets on fire. "You can get out of if you try. There's a stable full of horses. You know how to ride them, do you not?"
"Aren't you supposed to be helping Eric take care of the farm?" For the sake of my sanity, I can't look at the candlestick. Or the clock. Or the teacup, spinning itself in circles on the lush carpet. "What about Kevin?"
"I don't know any Kevins. I know of a Harrison. He's fun," the candlestick hops closer, so close than I move away before he whacks me with fire. "But what I do know, is that if you stay here, you'll die."
"No kidding," I answer dryly. "In case you haven't noticed, Landon is insane. Or maybe I'm insane. I'm talking to a candlestick and a clock."
"Hey, don't forget about me!" Karl adds. His voice is tiny, and he swears when he tips over, unable to right himself. "Can someone help me? I seem to be stuck."
"I need to wake up," I rub my eyes, so hard that stars appear, and when I stop, the room is exactly the same. "You can't be real."
"We aren't," the clock hops away, waddling as he nears the edge of the bed. "But you are. At least, for two more days. You better hurry. There's someone else who needs your help, too."
"Wait!" I sit up straight when he jumps, and they all vanish. Karl is gone, the candlestick is nowhere to be found, and the room grows dark.
The walls press inward, and the only thing I can do is lie down and screw my eyes shut.
The next time I wake up, I can tell it's late. Moonlight pours in through the window. The curtains are open, tied to the side to let the light in, and a chilly breeze slips in. Still woozy, I make the decision to close the curtains. When I summon enough strength to climb out of bed, I give myself a second to think about what happened.
The dream from earlier is still fresh in my mind, but now I'm not so sure it was a dream.
On the windowsill is a tall, slim candle and a box of matches.
I see him once more.
Days later, in passing.
Landon's stare rakes over me, ferocious with anger and loathing, and he only stops because the servant walking with him is too afraid to tell him no.
"Sir, we're meeting –"
"This won't take long," Landon cuts him off, heading right toward me. "I just owe Everly an apology."
"No." My panic is immediate. There's no one around me. I've been instructed to go for a walk while someone changed the linens on my bed, and Evelyn snapped at me to get lost while the women worked. I left, but I apparently made the wrong decision coming this way. "Landon, you don't need to say anything to me."
I try to back away, but he's too fast. I'm trapped in front of a row of knights holding swords, with nowhere to run.
"I'd like to apologize for attacking you. I would assume you'd eventually get used to the idea that I'm going to kill you, but I guess not." Landon smiles, but it falls the second he raises his arm. He slaps me as hard as he can, and my cheek burns like he's set fire to it. "But not yet. You won't know until it's too late."
"Shit," I gasp, trying not to let him see that I'm hurt. I press my palm to my cheek, and there's already a welt forming. It burns beneath my hand, so bad that I wince when he raises his arm again.
"Guess you really aren't so brave now, are you?" Landon snickers. Across the hallway, the servant watches silently, ducking aside as Landon storms back to him. "Come on. I'm late for fencing."
"Is she…hurt?" The man asks dully. There is no expression on his face, and certainly no concern. "Sir, is she hurt? Does she need to see someone?"
"Leave her be. She's fine."
He leaves, arrogantly stalking off like he's won some war.
Which he has.
An hour later, Marcus stops by to bring me lunch, and though he pauses to look at the mark on my face, he says absolutely nothing.
The ground below me sways.
I steady myself, one palm on the crumbling brick, the other on the latch to lock the window, and decide that when I reach ten, I will jump. The time ticks by faster than I am prepared for, even though I am the one counting. I eye the lake, figuring at the very least, I can risk hypothermia by jumping there. Directly below me, are bales of hay, but they possibly cover sharp pitchforks and rakes. To the side, ever so slightly, is more water. It spans around the castle, creating a thick, dark moat that looks chilling. Bubbles pop at the surface, and it wouldn't be crazy to think there's some sort of animal swimming in it. There is a small boat tied to a dock, and beyond that, a lake which presumably runs into the stream.
In the distance, the village is lit up.
I try to guess the distance from the castle, but my knowledge is limited; the town is perhaps a few hours by horse, maybe a day or two on foot.
"Shoot." I lose my nerve when the castle doors open, creaking and groaning. I slink back, slipping down onto the dresser I've shoved beneath the window, and I listen to Evelyn and Marcus talk.
Since Landon stabbed her, Evelyn has been quiet and withdrawn. She came to see me after I woke up from dreaming of talking china, but only to apologize for Landon's behavior. He was, of course, forgiven by her. Not even the mark on my cheek could make her change her tune. She tried to explain the situation away, but something about her was different. After a few minutes of my silence, Evelyn admitted she felt he might pose a danger to me, and despite her desire for us to wed –a thought which made me want to vomit –she knew better. He'd kill me the second we were alone, and she'd never see me again.
It doesn't matter to her.
I am the perfect sacrifice. A girl alone in a world where I could matter, or I couldn't. If I wasn't being held hostage here, I could easily return to town, resuming my normal life and spending my days in the bakery. If I stayed, and things worked with Landon, then it would benefit Evelyn and Marcus. They have been told I am the town favorite. She knows I've grown up here, but determined to make my father happy, I exist solely to serve others.
But not anymore.
I refuse to disappear in this castle. I refuse to be another body in Landon's crypt. The thought of him smashing my skull into the wall or slicing my skin open was terrifying, and so was knowing that with enough time, Evelyn would ask me to visit him again, or worse, move up the wedding. She told me, in the kindest way possible, that I was to marry him, and she would make sure I stayed alive until that happened.
Even though he'd come after me again, she insisted that he might just be frustrated. When I refused to go anywhere near him, threatening to throw myself off the balcony, she sent me to the room I was given. I kept waiting for her to return, but she didn't. She didn't send lunch or dinner, and the only thing that came up was a cup of tea. It smelled fine, and I was desperate, but a few sips later, I knew better.
I sunk into a world of hallucinations; ones strong enough to make me realize I would die here.
I had no choice but to escape.
I would escape during the night, when I knew Evelyn and Marcus wouldn't be wandering around the castle. I would make my way through the woods, and even though I had absolutely nothing left to offer, I would find Eric. I would go to the tavern and beg for him to help me kill Landon. I knew I couldn't do it myself. I wasn't strong enough, and no matter what I tried, his mother would likely be hovering nearby.
But if Eric could help me, I could work off whatever debt he wanted. Breakfast, lunch, a thousand dinners, cooked in his kitchen while he sat in front of the fire. I could swallow my pride if it meant being alive, and maybe, just maybe, he'd let me off easy. Or he'd keep me with him forever, but at least he wouldn't kill me.
Well, he might.
Eventually, he'd grow sick of having me around.
I ignore the way that thought hurts when Evelyn starts speaking. Her voice is tenser than normal, like her whole plan is crumbling right in front of her eyes. Marcus touches her shoulder, but he pulls his hand away when she shakes her head.
"Are you not the least bit concerned? Marcus, she's not warming up to him the way her father promised she would. She's a little…peculiar. I think he finds her strange."
"She's not warming up to him because he's trying to kill her." Marcus, the odd voice of reason, sounds tired. "Evelyn, I think we may have to admit this is a failure. Tobias warned us that he was acting out. That night, he told us –"
"You promised never to speak of him again," Evelyn hisses. I peer down from the window as the two of them stop on the bridge. The moonlight casts an eerie shadow over them, giving her a haunted appearance. "After what he did –"
"He was a child. We've blamed him for Landon's behavior for too long. I'm starting to think Landon will never allow her to live. If you leave them alone, he'll kill her the minute she's not looking. It's all a game to him." Marcus rests his fingers on the railing, right where Jason and Rylan had stood. "If he kills her, it'll be over. For the most part, she's docile and compliant. Hank promised obedience, and she's listened. Not completely without struggle, but more than the others."
"Compliant doesn't always work. Look at Christina," Evelyn counters. "We were promised her obedience. And look at her. They're the same age, and neither are working out."
"I don't want to look at her. Every day I pass by her room, I know what's inside. There's a reason her father handed her over. Every night she begs to be let go, promising she won't tell a soul. But we both know she'll have the town here in a heartbeat. Everly is a better option, though she might be the last option. If this doesn't work with her, then perhaps he's the problem."
"It's not him," Evelyn insists, delusional as ever. "Christina was too tall. Everly is smaller. It should be fine."
"It has nothing to do with height," Marcus shakes his head. "I'm starting to think we leave them both be. Maybe have Everly stay with her if it doesn't work. Neither can return to the town without causing issues. The minute Everly tells the hunter what happened, it's over. He'll find a way into the castle and kill us all."
I freeze.
My nails dig into the brick as my mind whirls. I try to think logically, cataloging every single thing they're saying.
There is another girl here.
Someone my age, also given to Landon.
And Marcus is well aware that Eric can kill him.
"If it doesn't work, neither can remain alive. They both are afraid of Landon, and it's unlikely they'd stay put. They'll try to run, and then…we'll have no choice but to kill them. Landon said if he doesn't have a bride by the end of the year, he'll burn down the village. Is that what you want? You're willing to risk everything?" Evelyn looks at her husband, but he's silent.
He looks up where I am, but I don't think he can see me.
"He's lit the ballroom on fire before. I have no doubt that he'd do the same, starting with the farms. Or the tavern. He's expressed great loathing for Eric after Tobias lost to him." Marcus exhales. His posture changes, and he turns away from the castle. "He's becoming just as dangerous as we thought. We're running out of time. Once he's older, it'll be harder to get anyone to want to be around him."
"He'll be furious," Evelyn answers. "You promised you'd take care of him. He'll think you lied."
"Then we give Landon one more chance to win her over. We will explain on how important this is, and if it doesn't work, then both she and Christina will be locked in their rooms until death comes for them. No more trying this, Evelyn. Eventually, the towns will notice, or someone will make it too far inside. Are we in agreement?"
This time, Evelyn is the silent one. She makes him wait for her answer, and her own gaze slides up the side of the castle, searching for me. I crouch down lower, trying to remain hidden, and her response comes as someone shrieks, a loud, high pitched plea for help.
"Yes."
The two of them turn, ignoring everything around them, and they head toward the woods.
I knock on every door.
The morning is young, dismal and freezing, but I am up early. I barely slept after hearing there was someone else here, and my plans of jumping came to a grinding halt. My own escape from this castle of horrors fell to the wayside, because if they were keeping someone else captive, I couldn't leave them here.
I know I should run.
I should bolt the first chance I get, arming myself with whatever I can find, and never look back. I should find Eric, tell him there are others here, and hopefully, he'll return to save the day. I should be horrified at the thought of Eric being any sort of hero; the town villain should not be my only hope, but he's the strongest person I know. If anyone would be willing to kill Landon, it's him. He could rescue Christina, and take her out of here, and maybe the two of them will live happily ever after.
The thought makes my stomach turn over.
I walk faster. When heavy footsteps echo from behind, I slip into a dark alcove, staying silent until someone walks past. They are a servant, dressed in a rumpled uniform, bringing Landon his breakfast. I wait until they are out of my sight, then continue my search for Christina.
I'm determined to find her. I am not noble or selfless in wanting to help her. My own survival is of the utmost importance, but I can't let her stay here. Not after knowing what they're planning to do with her. If I don't try to save Christina, then I'm no better than Evelyn or Marcus.
I knock on a door six down from the hallway diagonal from mine. There is a heavy lock hanging from beneath the handles, and the chain looped through is thick. No one answers, not until I knock again. Someone calls out a timid yes, right as I stop to touch the lock.
"Marcus? Evelyn….Colton?"
"No, I'm Everly. I'm…I'm from a few doors down. I'm going to get you out of here." I take hold of the dark metal made to trap her inside, and I know I don't have long. "I was brought here to take your place."
"Did they leave you alone with him?" Her voice is horrified, and rightfully so. "Is anyone with you?"
"No, it's just me." I pull a bobby pin from my hair and slide it into the lock. "I'm trying to hurry. We're leaving tonight."
"Are you sure?" Her voice cracks. I don't know how long she's been here, but it's clearly getting to her. "He'll kill you if they catch you trying to leave. All of them. They're mad, absolutely mad!"
"I have a plan," I answer quietly, wiggling the pin in a clockwise direction. My father taught me this trick when I was younger. Occasionally, the padlocks on the barn doors would stick, and he frequently lost the keys. "You'll have to trust me. If it works, we'll leave when it gets dark. I'm pretty sure it'll –"
The lock pops open.
There's a rush of adrenaline as it springs apart, and I nearly drop it. I expected it to work, but there was a great chance Marcus had messed with the lock.
"I got it. Hold on."
Carefully, I slide it loose from the levers. I pull them apart, trying to make as little noise as possible, wincing when they groan. One good pull later, they open completely, and there she is. A girl my age, dressed just like me, looking absolutely miserable. Her once tawny skin is now dull, and her hair is limp. Her dark eyes have some life to them, especially when I reach for her.
"Come on. We're going to hide in my room. It's not that far away." My hand grabs hers, and she closes her eyes. Christina stays still, and when she moves, her cheeks are wet. "We have to walk normally. If you hear anything, we'll duck behind the statues."
"Thank you."
Her gasp is lost in the air. I shut the doors carefully, then slide the lock back through. It takes a second for me to secure the padlock, and when it clicks in place, it's loud enough that I swear my heart stops beating. She waits patiently as I make sure the lock looks the same, then the two of us take off. We hurry fast as we can, and luckily, there is no one out here, not even a servant. It doesn't take long to reach my room, and my only hesitation is that Marcus be there with lunch.
Fortunately, he's not.
"We have to lay low until dinner," I announce, but she pays no attention to me. In the sunlight, Christina looks much more alive. She whirls around the room to look at everything, but when she faces me, her expression is horrified. "What? Are you okay? Do you need help?"
"I was in here. This is where they put me first," she whispers. Her stare tears around the room, stopping on the window. "Are you planning on jumping? We aren't that high up. I thought about it, too. I wasn't brave enough. Every time I went to jump, I lost my nerve."
"Tonight, we are jumping." I force myself to sound as brave as one can. "Do you know what's below us? There's hay. I thought we could land on that, or maybe the water."
"Not the lake. There's stuff in the lake. I've seen it at night. There are eyes, sometimes you can see scales. The hay is safer." Christina, still pale, looks better in here. The thought of being free has given her hope, especially when she nears the window. "If we can get to the stables, I can show you which horses are tame. Marcus used to make me ride with Landon. It didn't last long, but I did learn a few things."
"Good. The town isn't far. Are you from there?" I try to figure out if I know her, but I don't. "Or are you from –"
"No. I live a week away by horse. Maybe more. My father brought me here for tea, and told me it was a gathering in hopes of finding a new princess. He never came back, and Evelyn offered me a place to stay. I should have run. By the next night, I knew something was up."
"Were there others here?"
"Dozens. I can only imagine that he killed them all. There were others who were left behind. A few of us stayed for a few nights, then she took them out, one by one. Sometimes, we'd hear them scream. I asked Evelyn once, and she told me not to worry about it. That I must have been dreaming." Christina smiles, but it's not happy. "I was lucky that I was chosen last. They were getting desperate. He'd already told them he didn't like me, but they didn't care."
"Did you know the other girls?" I say, watching her expression tense. "Were they all strangers?"
"I didn't know any of them. One girl and I became friends, but she got away. She ran during the night, into the woods. We heard her screaming so we assumed she was dead. She went …north, I think." Christina hesitates, not wanting to get too close to the window. "Everly? That's your name?"
"Yes."
"Are you from the nearby town?" Christina's interest is clear as day, and it's nice to have someone my own age here. For a single moment, I forget about Evelyn, Marcus, and Landon, and focus only on the girl in front of me. "I heard them talking about you. And the hunter who brought you here."
"Eric." His name is a stab right in the heart, deep and painful. "My father went missing and I paid Eric to find him. He's the best hunter in our town. But it ended up being a trick. My father was injured in the woods, and Evelyn found him. They took care of him, and when they asked for payment, he offered me. I think they drugged him so he'd agree."
"They drug everyone. For weeks, I saw drapes that could dance and chess pieces that could speak." She shrugs, and her smile is wry. "It's the tea. Evelyn explained it one night, thinking I'd like her more if I knew what she was giving me. It didn't work. I started spitting it out when she wasn't looking."
"She's a real piece of work," I agree. "She gave me the same drink. I saw all sorts of things. A teacup named Karl and a dancing candlestick."
"Sounds about right," Christina laughs, until we hear the thud of someone in the hallway. Her skin pales. She turns ghostly white, like the life is completely drained from her. "Shit. Shit. Shit."
"In the closet. Go! It's probably Evelyn." I hurry her away from the window, but we don't make it very far. The footsteps grow louder, stopping in front of my door. Christina drops to the floor, and with my help, crawls beneath the bed. I pull the heavy blanket down, then smooth everything out and answer right as they knock. "Yes? Evelyn?"
The doors to the room open slowly.
In steps a woman, tall and intimidating, but it's not Evelyn.
It's Ashleigh.
Her blood is almost black.
Syrupy, like the thick maple I used to pour over Eric's pancakes. Ashleigh lies beside the bed, eyes skyward and bleeding from her throat, while I hyperventilate next to her.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, hands over my mouth while Christina hurries to wipe up the pool of blood around her. She's efficient; she reminds me of Karl as she mops up the fresh blood, and her whispered attempts to be quiet make me nod. "How are you so calm?"
"I have to be, and so do you," Christina whisper back. She gestures for me to stand up, and it takes everything in me to get up. "It's us or them. I learned that really quick."
"Okay."
I close my eyes tightly, and when I open them, nothing is different. I wasn't quite expecting this to happen, but after a single step into the room, it became clear that Ashleigh came with the sheer purpose of killing me. Driven by her own desires, she snuck into the castle and wandered upstairs. A servant pointed her in my direction, and thinking she was another girl sent to try and win over Landon, they didn't bat an eye.
But I did.
There was something off about her. Her eyes were wild, her hair was braided off her face, and in her hands was a sharp knife. When she saw me, her lips turned upwards. Just like Eric's. The sneer was familiar, slick and quick and mean, glad I was here.
The few words she spoke confirmed what I'd been wondering about, and her arrival now made sense. Eric was downright miserable that he'd left me here, and feeling like he'd been made a fool, he'd spent several weeks trying to get back to the castle. Each time, he was thwarted by something out of his control; a broken drawbridge, a pack of wild wolves that grew more and more vicious with each minute, and a spooked horse that refused to go near the castle when Marcus appeared outside. He tried again, bringing Jason and Rylan with him, but Colton and his guards were ready for them.
Ashleigh fumed when she went on to reveal Eric had been handling my absence in strange ways. His house was a mess, and his bar was only clean because there were others working. He spent his days drinking alongside Jason and Rylan at the tavern, snapping at his staff and storming through town, even going as far as to demand my father right what he'd done.
My father's refusal came from fear.
If he came to get me, they'd kill the both of us. He knew this, Eric knew this, and the only thing left to do was drown his sorrows in whiskey. Dark bourbons that made him violent, and sour whiskeys that made him loathe the sight of everyone around him. He no longer thrived off the town showing up to gaze at him, and spent an entire week in his house, refusing to answer the door.
But Ashleigh, pretty, tall, and as blonde as the wheat in the fields, was going to change that.
She was going to set him free. Determined to win over the heart of a man who had none, she was going to tell him I was dead. She would prove it, too. A chunk of my hair, maybe even a scrap of fabric. The same tricks Marcus and Evelyn used to draw us here, but this time, Eric would know for sure I wasn't coming back. He'd be able to move on with her help.
My life flashed before my eyes when she shut the doors behind her and told me not to scream.
It took me only a second to lunge for her. My efforts were not in vain, but they were risky. She managed to grasp a large section of my hair, hacking a chunk off when I yelped. She knocked me to the ground, and my saving grace was Christina. Ashleigh didn't know she was in here. In a moment of surprise, Christina hit in the back of the head with the heavy mirror, and Ashleigh crumpled to the floor. Without an ounce of hesitation, Christina handed me the knife, and reminded me that our lives were of no value to these people. We were disposable; weak and easily controlled, especially when we were trapped.
I stabbed Ashleigh in the neck, and when the blood bubbled into her mouth, I granted her last wish by slicing her throat. The act was violent, almost too violent to even comprehend that I'd done it. I sat frozen as the life left her eyes and her last words were a garbled, indecipherable plea. I was remorseful, until I remember that if it wasn't her, it would be me.
"Do you have a lot of enemies?" Christina asks, moving Ashleigh to the side with some struggle. She pushes her beneath the bed, then pulls the sheets down and shakes her head at my horrified expression. "If Evelyn comes in here, you won't be able to explain a dead body. If she knows you're capable of killing someone, her precious Landon could be at risk. You'll be locked upstairs, and if you're lucky, they'll remember to bring you water."
"You're right," I agree, but my insides are so tight they feel like they are twisting together. "She won't let anyone hurt Landon. He's hurt her, though."
"All the time. Once, he stabbed a fork right into her hand. She blamed it on the weather." Christina huffs and tosses me the towel. "Wipe up right there. We'll go as soon as it's dark. If that's okay with you."
"We don't have a choice."
I look up at her, and the world comes into focus. The soft, fuzzy memory of Eric floats up, warm and sated against the bare skin of my back. I can feel his hand trailing down my side, slowly cataloging each inch of me. If I want any semblance of that –even just being alive to work off a debt –then we must leave.
"It'll be okay. I promise. You got me out of that room, and I'm going to get us out of this castle." Christina sinks down beside me, and for a moment, it's just us. "I couldn't do it on my own, but I can do this with you. We'll make it out here, together."
"Right."
She takes hold of my hand, the gesture meant to be calming, but it feels like a pact. The sheer act of knowing she's on my makes me feel better, especially when someone in the hallway yells out that the wash is ready to be collected.
We sit in total silence, as the sounds of the castle pick up, knowing that all we have to do is get through the rest of this day.
I jump first.
I stand on the ledge of the windowsill, wavering but a single moment. A few chunks of rock tumble down below, softly hitting the pile of hay. I kick down another, trying to see if there's anything beneath the hay, but it's hard to tell. When I glance back at Christina, she smiles, the reaches up to touch my hand.
"I'm right behind you. I'd jump with you…but…"
The rest is unspoken.
If there is something in the hay, there's no sense in injuring the both of us. It's smarter to make sure we can survive the jump, and the worst-case scenario is she finds another way out. I make the decision myself, figuring she has more to live for. She can go anywhere. Any tavern will hire her, or any farm would be willing to exchange room and board for help around the house. I should be the one to risk everything, because I have nothing waiting for me.
Christina didn't totally agree with me, but she quit arguing when I told her about the town, explained who Eric is, and made her promise me she'd go find him.
"I'll see you in a few minutes. I'll tell you if it's safe. Did you put the dresser in front of the door?"
"Yes."
I move my hand away when she answers, pausing only to look at the night sky. In the distance, there is a fire burning somewhere in the woods, as well as near the edge of town. The sky is full of stars, and I wish on every single one as I crouch down, then slide right off the edge.
The fall is quick.
My stomach drops for a single moment, then I land atop a pile of scratchy, thick hay. I cough as it flies up around me, and the soft thud of the hay is muffled as I slip down the pile. To my relief, there is nothing in it. It's nothing but hay, stacked here to be taken to the stables.
"Everly? Are you okay? Did you make it?"
Christina's voice is faint. There's some fear buried beneath her tone, but only that someone might hear her. After a quick glance at my surroundings, I deem the area as safe as it can be. There doesn't appear to be anyone out here, nor is there anyone near the bridge. I walk as far out into the dark as I can, then softly tell her I'm fine.
"I'm fine! It's just hay! Hurry! Jump down and we'll go." I try to keep my voice even, refusing to admit how scared I am. My arms are shaking from the cold, and my legs feel wobbly. "Christina, are you –"
She lands with the same thud. There's a flurry of hay all around me, and I wave it away as she hurries down the pile and over to me. Christina takes a moment to shake out her hair, then wipes her face off with a scowl.
"Gross. That was less soft than I was thinking," she announces, but her eyes are alive with excitement. "Oh my God, Everly! We did it! We're outside. I haven't been outside in a year! I haven't left that room in months. We did it!"
"We did, but now, we have to go before someone sees us. I don't trust any of them."
"Me either. The stables aren't far. Follow me." Christina takes hold of my arm, and the two of us slink around the side of the castle. It's darker than I expect, and even darker when we round a turret. "Stay close to the walls. When I was allowed out, I learned that most of the guards work inside because of the weather. Marcus and Evelyn don't have enough to pay them, so they agreed as a compromise. But Colton goes outside. He's a royal prick."
"Do you think he's out here?"
My voice shakes. I don't know who Colton is, but the idea of him is terrifying. I try to make myself as small as possible, staying away from any light. My nerves feel shot, but for good reason.
Before we left, Evelyn dropped off a meager offering of bread and a few pieces of sausage. She hovered in the room for a second too long, her head cocked to the side like she knew something was off. Her stare scraped over every corner, scrutinizing the brick walls and heavy tapestries hung over them.
I stood in front of the bed, violently hoping she didn't start nosing around.
"I'll have someone come clean in here in the morning. It smells…a bit strange. Make sure you eat dinner. Landon will come find you later tonight. He wants to…make amends. He requested to see you alone and I expect no protest from you." Her words burned themselves into my brain. I nodded, thanked her for the dinner, and stood in place until she left. The heavy doors shut with a loud thud, and then, I heard it.
The click of a lock I hadn't heard before.
"Christina…" I whisper her name, but she's gazing into the distance to make sure it's clear. "Do you think this…Colton is out here?"
"Probably not. He's likes to drink wine, and more often than not, ends up passed out in front of the fire. But…" Christina hesitates, and her grip tightens on my arm. "He's an excellent fighter. He was boasting about winning some joust the last time I saw him."
"Great."
A wave of fear hits me, so intense I nearly stop walking. I force myself forward, one step at a time. The night is mostly silent, but not completely. There is a humming near the water, the faint rustle of the trees, and the hiss of wind as it hits the castle. The storm Evelyn was talking about is slowly rolling in, and even in the dark, I can see a few clouds forming.
"Have you ridden before?"
I startle when I realize Christina is talking to me. I nod, and her next words become a jumble of excited relief and impatient terror. We near the stables, and I'm happy to see there is no one out here. Not a guard, not Marcus or Evelyn, or this Colton. The stables are unattended, and even better, unlocked. They are warm, a few lanterns lit near the door to give off light, and each pen has a palace horse inside.
A few minutes later, Christina and I take off on a matching pair, riding as fast as we possibly can.
"You can't stay here."
I should have expected nothing else.
Behind me, the night sky explodes into pieces. Lightning strikes several times, flashing and banging loud enough to scare the horses, and even Christina is spooked. She tells her horse it's fine, murmuring that they'll be inside soon, but they won't.
My father shakes his head, looking visibly nauseous.
"How did you leave? Did they know you're here?" He reaches one hand out, cautiously, to touch my arm. His hand is freezing, and he jerks it back when the horses whinny as the rain starts. I shake my head no, and his posture changes. "You can't be here. Everly, when they discover you are missing, they're going to come looking for you here. They'll start with me. You should never have come back."
"What did they do to you?" I whisper, wondering if he's still drugged. "Daddy…what…what did she give you? What did Evelyn do to you?"
On the ride down here, I made the snap decision we'd head toward my father's farm. The horses could be put inside for the night, and I imagined that once I told him what Landon and his family had done, he'd escort us inside and lock all the doors.
Instead, he recoiled.
He looked like he wanted to slam the door in my face, and I'm surprised he didn't.
"Look, I know it seems wrong. I know they aren't the best people. But they can give you what I can't. They can keep you safe. They were coming for you either way. I owed them for saving my life, and you were the only thing they wanted. You must go back. Apologize for leaving. Take whatever punishment they give you and –"
"No," I shake my head. "I refuse to go back there. They'll kill me. Is that what you want?"
"I had no choice!" My father protests, appearing slightly more coherent than before. "I offered them everything. The farm, the bakery. They kept asking who else lived with me. Who I needed to get home to. When they realized I had a daughter, they wanted you. But now, now they'll want us both. They'll want me dead for failing to pay my debt, but…they'll take you back. They'll give you another chance. She promised me she'd take care of you."
"Yeah, by offering me as a sacrifice," I hold my ground, but my resolve is wearing thin. Behind me, the horses grow more agitated. Christina pleads with them to be quiet, but it does little to calm them. The rain is picking up, and it's clear they don't want to be outside. "You have to help me. Please. I'll forgive you for everything. I know they drugged you. Just –"
"No. I can't help you. You need to leave before they come looking for me."
That's it.
My father throws me one final, painfully sympathetic look, but it's riddled with everything possible. Fear, dismay, some relief, but mostly sorrow. My chest feels so tight that it's hard to breathe, and the feeling worsens when he shuts the door.
"Goodbye, Everly."
I can't move.
Lighting strikes again, slicing across the sky and leaving an electrified print behind, and my heart shatters right along with it.
I turn to Christina, ignoring her own sympathetic stare, and announce we have only one option left.
We leave as the rain becomes a downpour, and this time, the horses refuse to take another step.
His hands are warm.
They grasp the back of my head greedily, slipping into the strands to press me against his chest. He holds on tightly, more so to give the impression that he's stopping me from collapsing, but I don't care. He's warm. Strong, especially when his arms trap me against him, and I'm hit with the familiar scent of fire and whiskey. I keep my head against his chest, ignoring the gasps from the crowd, and the wail of one of the Ashleys. I don't have to look up to know one of them is upset by my arrival, but she doesn't matter.
None of them do.
Only that I tell Eric what's going on, and that he'll agree to help me.
"What are you doing here?" His voice is lower and rougher than I remember. There is a pause when I don't answer him, but I can't. The memory of him and I together comes rushing back, and I want nothing more than to sink further into his chest and have him promise me we'll go home.
It's a funny thought.
His house is not mine, and it's far from a home.
"Everly, did you run from the castle?" He grits out his next question, sour over how we parted ways, and nowhere near as welcoming as his grip on me. "Or did they let you leave?"
"No." I shake my head, keeping my eyes closed. I'm freezing, drenched from the rain and heavy headed, and it's hard to speak. "They didn't let me leave. Eric, you have to listen to me. We don't have much time. You have to help me. I'll make you another deal. I'll pay you. I'll give you whatever you want. But you have to kill Landon and his family. He'll find me, and he'll kill me and Christina. You have to help her, too. I can pay you. I can work it off. Just like last time. I saw the note. I saw what you wrote. Please."
My begging evokes only silence from him.
His fingers move, tightening in my damp hair as they wind deeply toward my scalp. My hands rest on his chest, clutching the fabric of his red shirt. He smells like whiskey, like the kind he drank while he and I ate dinner together, and roaring fire.
"Eric…" I whisper, knowing I have no one else to turn to. "There was another girl there. She was there before me. I got her out of the room they locked her in. They're crazy. Landon tried to kill me. He promised he'd kill me if I didn't stay and marry him."
"Did you?" Eric asks, the word spoken between gritted teeth. "Did you marry him?"
"No!" I lift my head away from him, and our eyes meet. I have his sole attention, and not even a sniveling Ashley can make him turn away. "He's a monster. He's violent, and he's coming here. He's going to burn the town down."
"Is he?" Eric's expression changes. There's an unspoken challenge behind his eyes, one that intensifies when he moves his hand to the side of my face. He touches my cheek, grazing over the very spot Landon had slapped. "Did he do this?"
"Eric, please. I'll give you anything you want. Anything, just –"
"Did he hurt you?" Eric ignores the question in favor of touching my cheek again. He looks over me, briefly, and I can only assume he sees Christina a few steps back. "Everly, answer me. Did he do this? I left you there, and they promised you'd be fine. Your father swore up and down that they would take care of you. He hasn't been right since he's been home."
"Landon tried to kill me. Several times," I stare up at Eric, silently pleading for him to agree to my deal. "I went to see my father before coming here. He's afraid they'll kill him, too. She drugged him. She had to."
"They'll kill him when they notice you're gone. He traded you as payment for them saving his life." Eric pauses, and the entire tavern is silent. "It was his agreement. He's spent every day waiting for them to show back up and say it wasn't enough."
"Please…"
"Eric, make her leave. She's as crazy as the old man," Ashley voice rises, shrill as can be. "You should kill her. She'll wreak havoc on the village if you set her free. Send her on her way and get back to the bar. Our drinks are getting warm."
"Fuck off, moron." Jason announces, sliding across the bar and hoping down. He must have been working, because he's dressed in black and his hair is pulled atop his head. "Everly, are you okay?"
"No," I shake my head. I don't want to sound weak, but I'm decidedly not alright. "Please. If you don't stop him, he's going to come here and kill us all. They want the town."
"Oh please. Like anyone in that castle is going to come here and try anything. Eric, she's going to ruin this town. If whoever that guy is wants her, let him have her. Our village is fine without her," Ashley interrupts. She takes a step closer to reach for Eric, wrapping her hand around his bicep. "I've spent countless nights here with you. She hates you. Why on Earth would you help her? You found her father and you got what you wanted. You're done with her."
"Ashley," Eric answers slowly, his grip tightening even further. It's painful at this point, but I don't move. "Get the fuck out of here. This doesn't involve you."
"If it involves the town, it involves me," she snaps. "A few months ago, you said she wasn't important. You promised me –"
"I said, get the fuck out. Now."
Eric hisses the words at her, his jaw tensed, his stare glued to me. He doesn't look at her, never breaks his stare, and only moves his hand to touch my cheek. It stays there, then slips into my hair, behind my ear and he nods.
"Fine. I'll help you. But you know what you have to do."
The tavern waits to hear what comes next, but they don't get to. Eric waits patiently until I nod, and only then does he let go. He leads me through the crowd, where everyone returns to their drinks and pretends they aren't watching, and down the hallway, into his office.
Then he shuts the door behind him, and patiently waits while I tell him everything.
"Sign here."
I take the pen from Eric, and the ink flows freely as I scrawl a wobbly signature at the bottom. Years ago, my father taught me how to write in cursive, promising me it was a valuable skill to know. Before this day, I had yet to use the fancy lettering, and it pains me to see it besides Eric's precise handwriting. But tonight, I'm grateful that I know how. I sign Everly Carlen beside Eric Coulter, and my whole future falls into place.
As payment for killing Landon, Eric wants a wife.
It's a cruel twist of fate to be in this position, but I understand. After weeks of having me make his meals and sleeping beside him, he grew to like our arrangement.
So, as payment for killing Landon and his family, he would like me to resume our agreement, permanently. He wants me waiting for him when he comes home. Making him his dinner, sitting beside him while he sips his dark drink by the fire, his fingers skimming my neck. He wants me in his bed each night, along with the promise that there is more to this town than working day and night.
He wants a family.
His father would like grandchildren, though Eric himself has no interest in actually raising them. While I read his latest ledger as a fair showing of his own worth, he went to tell me he'd like a son or two, perhaps even three, all to further his bloodline. He will teach them to hunt, and I will teach them how to read. They will rule this town, tend his bar, and make him proud. He wants to prove he's a man of virtue. He wants to have everything, the fame, the power, the thrill of the hunt, but also the security of knowing someone is waiting for him.
What he wants more than anything, is me.
I can see it in the way he watches, grey eyes glued to my hand as I struggle to keep the letters straight. I can see it in the way his posture changes; his chest fills, his arms tense, and his shoulders pull back. There is pride in having won, and not just because I agreed without any hesitation. I can no longer glare at him while he orders bread from the bakery, and he knows it. I will be at his beck and call, but not. Perhaps, someday, he will see me as his equal. I've managed to get away from Landon, and maybe that'll be worth something to him.
He swallows when I hand him back the pen, and his gaze is heavy.
"You know what this means, don't you?"
"I do."
It's a vow, spoken between us, while Rylan stares with the enthusiasm of a rabid racoon.
"I'll keep you safe," Eric says, his tone rich with a warmth I haven't heard before. "I can give you whatever you want, so long as you give me what I want."
"You want a housewife." I pause when his eyes flash, like the word is offensive. "I'll do what you ask, but I'm not…that's not me. I couldn't keep up the farm. You know this."
"I don't want a housewife. If I wanted some idiot to come home to, I could have picked any of them," Eric retorts. He steps closer, tossing the pen onto the desk. "I've told you before. I can make this good for you, and all you have to do is let me."
"Why me?" I crane my head up at him, fully expecting a sarcastic, malicious answer. We both know I have no choice in this matter; he helps me, or I die fighting off Landon's family. "Why in your house? Why not one of them? They're pretty and –"
"You're pretty," he interrupts, the confession as painful as the sneer on his lips. "I'm not blind, you know."
"But Ashely –"
"Can barely wake up in the morning without someone telling her what to do. The others are the same. You can read, you can write. You've run a farm, even if you didn't succeed the way you wanted. You can bake and cook, and there's ambition to you. Not everyone is meant for a life of marrying whatever townsfolk finds them attractive." He shakes his head, and he's so close I can feel his hands brush mine. "But if I'm risking my life to save yours, then I want something in return."
I nod, ignoring Rylan knocking into the chair, frantically trying to get Jason to come down the hallway. "Fine. One child. Maybe two, if the first doesn't look just like you. But you'll teach me to hunt, in case you get hurt. And I want you to show me around the woods. I want to know where I'm going."
His lip curls up in amusement. "You want me to teach you to hunt? Fine. I'll teach to you hunt and I'll show you the woods. I'll show you whatever you want. And you should know, I never get hurt."
"You get hurt. I stitched your head back together, remember?" I remind him, but the moment between us changes. It shifts, becoming less angry. There's a softness to the way his hand touches mine, his fingers coaxing my own toward his. "Do I have to work at the bar?"
"No. You get to profit from it. Not spend your days here," he murmurs. "I told you, this can –"
He stops speaking when the bang comes from the side. Rylan falls over the chair, having been too focused on the sight before him to notice anything else.
"Sorry, don't mind me. I just broke my leg, but I think I'm fine."
Eric ignores him. "Everly…"
"I have to tell you something. Before…before this goes any further. I killed her," I whisper, and from behind him, Rylan hits his head on the desk trying to get up. "Ashleigh. She was in the castle. She said she was going to bring you my hair."
"What?" He blinks, completely caught off guard. "You killed someone?"
I expect rage from a man who is used to getting what he wants. Ashleigh was easier to deal with than me; she willingly wanted him, and while I wanted his help, him as a person was a whole other story.
Except that now, as his hand takes hold of mine and his fingers slide between my own, the urge to never let go is strong.
"Ashleigh. She came looking for me. She had a knife and told me not to scream. Christina helped me. I didn't mean to kill her, but we were trying to escape, and she could have ruined everything."
"She went to the castle?" Eric's face flashes with surprise. "To kill you? Why? How'd she get inside?"
"I don't know. She told me she snuck in, and they thought she was there to see Landon. She said she was going to kill me…so you'd move on." I try to avoid looking right at him, but it's impossible. Our eyes meet, and his secret is exposed. "She said you were upset over what my father did. I guess it bothered her."
"You don't say," he retorts. "So, she's dead?"
"Yeah. We left her there." I glance over at Rylan, busy fixing his hair and trying to appear inconspicuous. He flashes me a blinding grin, then ducks out into the hallway to yell Jason's name again. "Christina helped me hide the body. Evelyn will discover it at some point. Maybe when she notices we're missing."
"So, you're saying we need to deal with this tonight?" Eric cocks an eyebrow at me, and our marriage seems like it might never see the light of day. "Surely, they've noticed you're not there."
"I would think so. She brought me dinner, then locked me inside. She doesn't normally check on me at night, but she might. But she'll know by tomorrow morning."
In the background, Rylan yells Jason's name one more time, and the muffled answer is that he's talking to Christina. He yells that Rylan should come talk to Christina, then yells again that Karl is slammed at the bar and needs help. The thought of taking them out of here, storming the castle to kill Landon seems impossible, until Eric's fingers tighten, curling around mine.
He pulls his shoulders back, throws me an arrogant smile, and steps away.
"Then we have no choice but to fight. This ends tonight."
He turns to glance back at me, and my stomach turns over.
This time, it's far from unpleasant.