Page 20 of Nocturn

I clamped my hands over my ears, the image of my shredded family refusing to leave. The echo of my scream lingered in the pit. Worse still was the stench of rot.

I cannot let myself drown in fear.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Training

So much death . . .

The smell of decay lingered in my nose, crude and thick.

Dawnlight had come and gone since I’d been tossed down here.

Metal clinked, and I sat up as the door whipped open. I squinted into the light beaming from the lantern held by Lady Drusilla.

“Grab her, Egan.”

The serious officer I’d encountered before, the one I begged to help me, grabbed my arm and hoisted me to my feet. His grip was firm but still gentle. My legs buckled, so I leaned most of my weight against him.

He led me out of the chamber and followed Lady Drusilla down the path toward the Grand Hall. I sucked in breaths with every step, hoping to dilute the taste of death on my tongue.

Officer Egan led me past the Grand Hall. A woman dressed in a simple black uniform stood near the exit holding metal in her hands. She didn’t move until Lady Drusilla tipped her head forward. She was a stout older woman smelling of bread. My mouth watered and hunger cramped my stomach. She approached me as she tucked the metal collar under one arm. It was a replica of the one attached to the long chain currently around my neck.

She brandished a key, and I stayed still as she pushed it into the side and turned. A click later and the metal popped off, thudding loudly to the ground with the chain. The freedom felt so good. I only had a moment to touch my bare neck before she swatted my hand out of the way and clicked the new collar into place.

Fortunately, the weight had considerably diminished without the chain attached.

Lady Drusilla grunted and walked ahead of me. I met Officer Egan’s expectant look and hurried to follow her out of the House of Lords.

My limbs trembled as we descended the stairs. As the numbness faded, pinpricks rose along the soles of my bare feet, worsened by the cold of the stone. They ached.

Ahead of us was a carriage, the elaborate iron curving up into a spiral that connected to the opposite side. We reached the base of the steps. By that point, I had regained the faculty of my legs. Officer Egan released me, but hovered near.

An officer in a plain uniform opened the carriage and held out a hand to help Lady Drusilla on. I was not afforded the same courtesy. He recoiled from me as if I had the Hollow Plague. I hesitated before the entrance.

“Quickly now,” Lady Drusilla ordered.

I gripped the iron handle and hoisted myself up. I ducked my head and carefully perched on the edge of the cushion. The door shut, enclosing me in the space with her.

Lady Drusilla knocked on the roof of the carriage, and it began to move. I rocked backwards. The cushion was so soft, so different from what was becoming normal.

Lady Drusilla studied me, her analytically cold gaze steady. Elegance came from her in the way she held herself and how she spoke. I’d been near enough Elites to know when I was around one.

It was best to tread carefully.

My shoulders hunched under her intensity.

She didn’t speak. As the ride continued, I settled into the seat. Lady Drusilla was an enigma; I was not sure where she fit. At times, she seemed to have more say than the Warlord, but as soon as he was present, she diminished herself. It was rather odd.

Even the guards seemed to defer to her—a woman.

A yawn crawled free, and I covered my mouth.

“You were a lady’s maid for the blueblood family you were assigned to before being brought here.”

I sat straighter. My training crowded forward, overwhelming my exhaustion.

“Yes, Lady Drusilla.”