Wayward Favor || ONC 2024

Chapter 1: The Escape

"Misfortune shall forever haunt
the vow breakers.
This curse – their burden.
Only the promised union,
Truvow and Drewmond,
hand in hand,
shall put this wrath to rest."

Silk slips through my fingers, the finest I've held. My family never affords such finery, at least not for bedsheets. Rain patters to the floor. A breeze, sweet with rose and petrichor, caresses my sweaty neck. Goosebumps bloom along my arms as I force the silk sheets into a double knot.

I add pillowcases, but it's still not long enough. I'm on the fourth floor, in the finest guest room. This would have been bliss under any other circumstance. The bed could host ten people under its ruffled white canopy. An ornate rose pattern adorns the walls. The gilded scrollwork molding gleams under flickering candlelight. It is all I dreamt of as a child who'd read fairytales, longing to be swept up into a prince's arms.

I clench my teeth as I stare at the wedding dress hanging from the armoire. The delicate gossamer flutters upon an autumn draft as if possessed by a phantom seeking out a long-lost lover. Pearls and silver embroidery sparkle with an elegance I could never hope to match. It is perfection. A smile creeps over my face as I run my finger along the hem. I tug the dress to the floor. Thunder rolls in the distance.

Taking fabric scissors from my trunk, I dismantle the dress of my dreams. Frilly petticoat layers add length to my makeshift rope. I snip pearls, gems, and silver from lacework and stuff into my overloaded bag.

Lightning dances across the night sky as I recheck every knot, from the first silk sheet tied to the mahogany bedpost to the final knot attaching my stockings to my veil. I have no intention of escaping marriage by cracking my skull open. Satisfied, I drag my rope to the window.

Lightning flashes illuminate the garden below. Roses and shadows dance among the shifting hedges. A marble statue of Sir Agus slaying the dragon of Wolfundry is under my window. I hope I do not fall atop the stone spear Agus holds aloft so piously. I chuck my makeshift rope out the window. Billowing in the wind, it cascades along the ivy-covered wall until the veil tickles the statue's stoic face.

The engagement ring glitters seductively on my finger, loaded with fat diamonds and sapphires, urging me to see reason. Be logical. Take my heart out of the equation. If I stay, I will save my father and brother, and most importantly, my younger sister, from destitution. I will be a countess. A wealthy countess.

I am to marry Count Reginald Drewmond tomorrow, whom I've never met, but my father holds him in the highest regard. They met in one of my father's gentlemen clubs and formed a fast friendship. I do not know much about the man, aside from his gleaming reputation. He seems well-liked by his peers and works tirelessly for queen and country. Quite respectable, or so I've been told.

I chew on my thumbnail. It sounds all so perfect when I frame it like that.

But Count Drewmond is more than thrice my age and has been married once before. His son is older than me, and is soon to be married to the Archduke of Cesmonia's daughter. Count Drewmond also has a young daughter who is an infamous terror. My father explained the count wishes to remarry for his daughter's sake. The little hellion needs guidance only a mother can give. I can't provide the child valuable advice, for I've lacked a mother's guidance most of my life.

The real reason my father is set on our marriage is because Count Drewmond cleared my family's debts as a favor in return for my hand in marriage. Most men expect a woman from a noble house to come with a sizable dowry, but the count is not troubled by my lack of fortune.

This is my family's only chance at survival. Over the next year, I am certain my father and brother will accrue new debts. I am their final gambling chip and they need to win big with me.

Squeezing my hands together, my nails dig crescents into my palms. Why can't my brother marry some rich, old widow if we need money so badly? I'm not the one who lost the Truvow family fortune on card games, charlatans, and occult knickknacks! I clutch the rope as I shimmy over the window frame, dangling my stockinged legs out into the darkness.

Rain splatters against my black dress, urging me to return to the warm room, with all its roses and gilding. I'd live in relative comfort here. If I run, I might end up a pauper on some streetcorner, begging for scraps. Thunder buries my whimper.

I can't. I won't marry him! Gripping the sheets between my narrow fingers and legs, I ease out the window. My dress shoes brush against the brick wall, slipping. I find no traction. My forearms scrape along the outer frame as the rope glides through my hands. I squeal, sliding down the silk at highspeed. Clenching my thighs together, I jerk to an uncomfortable halt. Wind tosses me side to side. I bounce against the wall. Damp ivy leaves lick my forearms as every muscle in my body clenches tight. My knuckles strain white against my skin as I stare at Sir Agus's spear far below me.

The dinner I ate on the carriage ride over crawls up my throat. Vomity carrots perfume my mouth. I quiver. I think I have a fear of heights, and this is the worst time to discover it. I swallow, forcing myself to stare at the moon as it peeks through the clouds overhead. A raindrop strikes my cheek – a single celestial tear rolls across my lips. I can do this. I'm halfway there.

"Nice night," a man says.

I whip my head to the right so fast my hip slams into the wall. Four windows over, I make eye contact with a man, dressed all in black. A large bag hangs from his upper back. He dangles from a rope, feet pressed against the brick wall. The silk bedsheets slip between my startled thighs and hands. I slid down the rope, falling fast. Too fast! I screech, squeezing my thighs together like my life depends on it. I come to another painful stop.

I hyperventilate as my ass smacks into the marble spear, then sways into the statue's rock-hard face and chiseled chin. I stopped a hair away from impalement! It is a miracle. With my family's ill-luck, I really should be dead. A strangled sob claws from my throat, mutating into a deranged laugh. Rain falls with an urgent frequency as my heart thunders louder and louder in my ears, drowning out the thunder in the skies above. 

Word Count: 1144