Page 2 of Nocturn

Her insistence should have comforted me. Instead, it sharpened the worry, causing it to burrow deeper into my gut. I let her go, my hands sliding down her arms until they flopped at my sides.

There was no blood that marked us as family, no forced loyalty, but she was my family. I searched Miriam’s face, absorbing her sincerity, yet still looking for any indication of deception or wariness that all bluebloods had toward those like me.

There was no sign of it. I forced myself to take a breath, trying to stamp down the panic clogging my throat as I let my hand fall away from the brass knob.

“I apologize, Miriam,” I breathed and shook my head, my fingers tangling with my neat braid. “Let us secure your coiffure.”

I took my coat and pulled it on, tying the sash in the front. It was not appropriate attire for company, but only Miriam would see me like this. Despite that fact, I reached for a shawl from the rack attached to the left of my vanity and wrapped it around my throat to hide the inky lines.

“There, good as new.” I forced a grin, facing Miriam. Her youthful face remained pale and uncertain. Only moments ago, the greatest worry between us had been whether her suitor would find her gown flattering.

Hooking my arm with hers, I urged her to follow me to the doorway attached to her chamber.

“You do not have to⁠—”

“Nonsense, your future husband will see you at your best.”

She ceased resisting and followed me across the wooden floorboards in my chamber, so different from the opulence of hers. Her door creaked as I nudged it open. I released her upon entering, padding across the beautiful multi-colored rug Lord Bjorn had brought for her from a market in southern Sycarious.

You are the Vessel.

I pushed the invasive thought away, trying not to suffocate from the pressure that pulsed in my throat. Thick, woven cotton bedding lay across her bed in a mess, and I crossed to it, lifting the edges touching the rug.

Her vanity made of beautiful oak stretched across the expanse of the wall on the other side of her bed, thrice the size of mine.

She’d gifted me the one I currently had in my bedroom. Everything I owned was handed down by Miriam.

When I patted her cushioned seat, she sighed, the bottom of her gown rustling with her approach. I helped her tuck the dress around her legs as she sat. Piper hovered near my skirts, her silence telling me just how frightened she was. I wished, once again, that our mind connection wasn’t one-way. I collected two pins and pressed the metal between my lips to free my hands.

How many times had I done this? Since she was barely tall enough to see herself in the mirror, squirming on this very cushion while I learned the particular stubbornness of her curls. She’d wailed the first time I’d pricked her scalp, and I had nearly wept with guilt. Now my fingers knew the shape of her head as well as my own.

“What if they take you away?” she breathed. “What would I do without you—” She choked off and drew in a ragged breath.

Instead of speaking, I collected her honey-shaded hair that had come out of the coiffure and swept it back up as I had done before it became undone.

If I could hide the mark, I could leave to find another position. With my training as a lady’s maid, I could . . . I could . . . I struggled to swallow. It was all null and void. If I ran, I would be hunted as if I were not human. By law, all redbloods must be assigned to a blueblood family.

With skilled movements from tending to her, I had it twisted up in the manner she preferred, the curve of her hair turning inward to mold into the updo.

Will the Bjorn family inform the Sycarious Council?

After my family had been slaughtered when I was a child, I wandered and wandered. Then I stumbled upon the Bjorns in their carriage. They took me to the Registry nearest to their home and agreed to have me assigned to them.

None of them deserved my doubt, least of all Miriam. I had watched her grow, and I had no doubt she’d been the reason I had not remained in the servants’ quarters . . . or cast out when I first arrived and Miriam found me scrounging through the pantries for something to fill my hollow belly.

Even with only six annum rotations of age, Miriam had reacted with kindness. Now, at twenty-one annum rotations, she was preparing for a supper in honor of her engagement.

My heart finally did not feel like it was going to burst as I exhaled again. I squeezed her shoulder. “You should go; Lady Bjorn will be waiting for you downstairs.” I wet my lips. “The gown is too pretty to let go to waste. Besides, you are seeing your Viscount Lancet tonight.”

Sequins lining her fitted bodice reflected the light from the gas lamp. The skirt puffed out in layered fabric all the way to her feet.

This marriage was something Lord Bjorn wished for her especially. Anything to get closer to the council. If he knew of the Sigil, would he throw me to the wolves? To a male with tales of death and gluttony following his every waking moment?

The Warlord was a fate worse than death, an inhuman and powerful deity necessary to keep order and balance. I knew very little other than the tales that reached us in the eastern side of Sycarious, but one thing was definitive: nothing good ever came from embroiling oneself with the Elites.

“I’ll come visit you when it is done,” she whispered, turning with the noisy swish of her gown. I followed close on her heels, keeping my shoulders relaxed as I walked her to the exit into the hall. She offered me one more look over her shoulder and left.

I did not try to say anything more to her, just quietly shut the door and crouched with my arm extended for Piper to climb up. I returned through the passage leading to my much smaller chamber. The worn floorboards creaked under my weight.