Page 4 of Nocturn

His strides were wide and hurried, causing his shoulder to dig into my belly until I could barely breathe. Then the chilly outside air stung my bare thighs and gravel crunched underfoot. They were risking death by bringing me outside. A creak of a hinge was all the warning I had before being tossed. I landed on my back with a harsh thump that ripped the oxygen from my lungs. I groaned, paralyzed as I breathed through the pain. The creak came again followed by the sound of a latch.

“Ready for transport,” Lord Clair’s recognizable voice came through muffled.

The hard floor shuddered as it lurched into motion. I’d been put in a carriage! It took off so suddenly that I went rolling into a wall. I hissed a breath out, pinpricks traveling down to my fingertips.

“Piper!” I shouted, blindly writhing on the floor to roll onto my bottom. “Pi⁠—”

‘Right here.’ She squeaked from somewhere close. Thank Saints, at least she was with me. I yanked the burlap off my face and was greeted by shadows. Searching with my hands out, I knocked into her soft body and quickly collected her, dragging her to my chest. She was trembling.

I exhaled, and my body slumped against the hard, jostling floor, straw clinging to my damp skin. Little granules stuck to my palm, and I knew it was salt without looking at it. Hollows hated salt to the point that they could not cross a barrier of it. It was how many villagers survived the nights.

Piper curled against my arm, gripping me hard enough to hurt. A tiny sliver of moonlight leaked through the slats. It was still dark out.

Hollows . . . I shivered. The fact that they were moving me at night told me of their desperation. Their rush.

What if Hollows somehow stopped the carriage?

A flicker of ripped-open rib cages flashed in my memory—the very event that made me an orphan. Those of us with no parents to claim were stripped of any surname and addressed as Nadien. There was no choice. Least of all for redbloods.

At this point, I invited the gruesome death. Between going to the brutal Warlord or getting ripped in half and all my organs devoured by Hollows, I would take the latter. But I would reach the Kingdom regardless. Considering the volume of hooves thudding from outside, they’d sent me off with a small army . . . and likely a talisman to repel Hollows as well.

‘What are we going to do?’ I did not answer Piper’s question and instead hugged her tighter to my chest. What was there for us to do?

A sob choked in my throat, but I bit down on my tongue until it bled.

I refused to be a coward. Not again.

CHAPTER TWO

Escape

Ajolt of the carriage wrenched me out of my daze.

“I cannot see a thing.” Every blueblood I had been near spoke of the Kingdom of Sycarious with reverence. Through the slats, all I saw was iron entwined with brush . . . my cage.

‘I think we’re here,’ Piper projected.

Her little paws clung to the edge of a small hole she’d managed to nibble into the wood while I’d been sleeping. I rolled onto my knees and pressed my palms against the slats while Piper hopped over, climbed up to my shoulder, then wound around my neck, using her tail to balance. Wheels creaked as the carriage jolted to a stop. In the next breath, the door was whipped open, letting in piercing dusklight. I winced, turning my face away from the sting. A grip wound around my upper arm, dragging me out and causing the abrasive floor to scrape my legs. It tore the hem of my ivory sleeping gown, and the scrape stung.

Pinpricks of pain assaulted my senses. Blinded by the light, I blinked quickly, forcing my vision to focus. Even so, the grip on my arm pulled me forward, my bare foot catching on something and causing me to stumble.

A lean man came into focus, his shoulders blocking out the worst of the sting in my eyes. He was dressed in an officer’s livery; the black coat looked to be a velvet fabric . . . The Guard only wore that uniform for ceremony.

“. . . Bjorn Estate is blessed to have brought the greatly awaited Vessel for our King.” Earl Clair’s simpering tone made my skin crawl. I’d never heard him sound so utterly pathetic. He spoke to a woman in a perfectly tailored coal-colored gown.

Piper chittered, clinging to my arm.

“Take that thing,” the woman in black addressed someone behind me.

I craned my neck and flinched into the officer to avoid the woman dressed in a serving uniform. The frock all redblood servants wore was a simple pleated gown the shade of straw. She reached for Piper again, and movement on her shoulder drew me to the small mouse. Her wraithling. I hugged Piper harder.

“Hand that creature over,” the officer holding my arm ordered, shaking me so hard it rattled my teeth together.

Would I ever see her again if they took her?

Panic squeezed my chest, and I wrenched my arm down, getting out of the officer’s grip, hugging her to my chest. Freedom was short-lived. He captured my shoulder and wrenched it back, forcing me to slam into him. Piper bit his hand, and I broke free again.

I ran.