Shadow Touched (Editing)

47. NAIMA

The return to Mirrador Castle is fraught. We left the theatre as if nothing had happened, pretending the old woman's performance was all part of the show. Yet, the truth is, the situation filled me with a growing sense of doom.

After barking commands at the guards, Finch disappeared for about fifteen minutes before settling into the King's carriage.

Grey and I were shuffled back into our original carriage, a retinue of Finch's men on their big warhorses boxing us in. We barely spoke in the carriage. The constant tremors caused by the burning shadows were clearly taking a toll on Grey. I did my best to comfort him, curling up next to him and holding his shaking hands, but he remained distant.

"What are you thinking about?" I whispered at one point, watching him as he stared out the window. Winter's Forest's full, lush trees pass us by in a blur. Even though we were on the Mynah's travelling path, I could still see hints of the Vic in the forest center, twining its way up the mountain peak and into the castle. The sounds of horse hooves pounding against the dirt floor filling my ears.

He took so long to respond I wondered if he'd even heard me. When he finally spoke, his words shattered my already fragile heart.

"I'm thinking that I don't want to die." He said, his voice hoarse as he stared ahead. His eyes were drawn, the skin around his beautiful lips tight. "I'm thinking that I hate all of this pain. All of this uncertainty. I'm thinking—" He continues, fixing me with a wide-eyed stare, his sea-blue eyes a storm of pain, "I'm thinking I don't want to leave you. And, I'm thinking it's rather poetic that my life began and ends with you." He offers me a hint of a smile, his heart-shaped lips lifting slightly.

"Greyling," My voice is stern. I grab his face, forcing him to look at me. My eyes beg him to hear my words.

"You are not going to die. Do you hear me? We are going to figure this out. We will get the journals. We will find a way to save you. To end Solditch. The Gloaming. All of it. And we will live a wild, passionate—full—life together. Do you hear me?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he pulled me close and kissed me. But the kiss felt like the first in a long goodbye.

~*~

It's been hours since the Poetic Arts contest, and I've been left to my own devices. In truth, no one's bothered to give me half a thought.

The King, whisked away by guards, wasn't given an opportunity to admonish my behaviour or remind me to stay put. Finch, off tending to his duties, has seemingly forgotten all about me. And Grey—Grey, I don't know what to say. It's impossible to know what's going on in that head of his.

He walked me to my room, the tremors in his hands quiet. Once at my door, he offered me a chaste kiss and left. I watched him go; each step he took felt like the beginning of an uncrossable chasm.

I've changed from the thick, heavy dress I was wearing into a pair of night blue leggings and a long-sleeved, cream-coloured shirt that hits my knees. I throw on a pair of riding boots and head out. I half expect the guards outside my doors to stop me, but neither do I, so I keep going.

I know the castle and all the ways to avoid being seen, making it easy to get to the kitchens unseen.

The chef and kitchen staff are in the thick of it, busy preparing tonight's dinner. I remain hidden as I sneak into the cold cellar and nick a few prism truffles for Chaos. Palming a handful, I slide them into the leather satchel I wear and slip out unseen.

Chaos is in the last stall at the far end of the stable. It's the largest one. Spacious, filled with hay and its own water trough. It also looks out on the grounds and Winter's Forest, giving her ample opportunity to watch the castle's comings and goings. Finch set her up nicely.