Songbird

Ch 6

I consider running away the night before my marriage.

I know I could do it successfully. There’s no doubt. I have the necessary skills and determination. The thought of my Grandmother doesn’t hold me back like it once did… even though it should.

I still love her. I still want to please her, but I feel like she doesn’t care. I can understand an arranged marriage, but I can’t understand arranging my marriage without my consent.

So what’s holding me back?

The answer is so blindingly immediate that I didn’t want to face it.

I simply don’t want to leave. I am too comfortable. Things have stayed the same for so long, before Lady Alexandria and Bae’s arrival, that I can’t imagine them ever becoming any different. Change must come. I know it must… but I just wanted to postpone the inevitable.

Maybe that’s why my midnight headache scares me as much as it does. The pain is sudden and sharp, not the usual dull throbs that crescendo into a loud, constant agony. Also, I had never gotten a headache while I was sleeping. Sleep is forbidden territory for the headaches. Nightmare after nightmare already plague my dreams. Adding the pain from the headaches into their midst is a new level of unbearable torcher.

“Where are you hiding, my firefly?”

Darkness surrounds me and the only sound is his echo. His voice bounces off of invisible walls and rings in my ears. I wish for nothing than the ability to move, to look around and search for the source of the deep, terrible voice. I can’t do it. I doubt that I even have a physical body to move and it’s my soul trapped in this eternal dream.

If I had a body, I would be crying.

The voice taunts me, expecting an answer that I’m not even able to give. I want to stay strong and hide from it.

If I had a mouth, I’d confess all my secrets.

“You can’t hide from me forever.”

“I’m coming to find you.”

“Then you’ll be mine.”

I’m not sure what wakes me up first: the pain or the loud banging at my door.

It’s Bae.

His energy is so bright I have to face away from the door as I open it.

“Jesus Christ, Wren!” he says. “Please don’t tell me you were sleeping.”

I wince. He whispers, but it sounds like yelling. “Of course I was sleeping! God knows what time it is! You should be in bed right now!”

He looks conflicted. He kicks the door frame, mutters some select curse words, and runs a hand through his ragged hair. He looks up at me. A cloud covering the moon moves, bathing my room in moonlight. It lights up half his face and I see a crazy glint in his eye.

I take a tentative step back.

“Good night, Balthazar,” I say calmly as I slam the door shut. Or, at least, I try. He snakes in his foot at the last minute and keeps it open a jar.  I yelp as I begin to concern for my safety. There’s nothing in grabbable distance from me that I can use to defend myself. I reach over and manage to latch the chain at the top of the door.

“Listen, Wren,” Bae says. His arm is reached out as far as it can go through the slightly opened door and struggles pointlessly. He really does look as if he’s lost his mind. I scurry over to my bed and grab my bow from under it. Notch an arrow.

He stops struggling and retreats his hand from the door. For a second, I think I’m safe. Then, he murmurs something and the latch undoes itself and flies from its lock.

Wide eyed, I stare. I must be the one going crazy.

He burst through the now open door, yet I’m already in position. My hand is drawn back, and there’s an arrow aimed for his forehead. His face pales.

“Wren, wait,” he says, hands in the air in surrender. “I can explain.”

“I don’t want an explanation,” I snap, “Unless you want the blue blood of Cornwell staining my rug, you’re going to keep quiet and slowly back away.”

“You’re in danger,” he begins to say, but I cut him off. I move my arrow slightly to the left and let it fly. It just barely grazes his cheek.

“That was a warning shot."

The wound draws blood. He touches it and looks at his wet hand, truly scared. He would have to be very insane to try and come at me again, but if he does, I’ll have justification for killing him.

Not that I want to.

I’ve never killed anyone before.

“I know you can see my aura,” Bae blurts out. I’m so surprised that my grip laxes on my arrow and I almost release it. He continues to plead with me. “You can see I’m telling the truth. Please, Wren. They’re coming. They’re coming for you. I know you can feel it. Focus.”

The word rattles me. Because just then, by coincidence or by fate, I do feel it. I sense an energy like I never have before. It’s ten miles away and gaining distance quickly. It’s black. Pitch black and menacing and to be feared. In a startling sense of deja vu, I realise it’s strikingly similar to the presence in my dreams. My nightmares. It’s a stark contrast to the blindingly honest color in front of me.

I toss my bow onto the bed, letting Bae know that I believe him. My fingers move to my temples and massage them as I look at the ground numbly. I get down on the floor and sit there in shock. My ears ring.

“Wren,” Bae approaches me slowly. He doesn’t sugar-coat his words. “You’ll be dead soon if we don’t leave right now.”

I don’t question him. The sincerity is painted in the lines of his face and the colors of his aura. I shake my head and close my eyes tightly, then open them again. That’s all the hesitation I allow myself.

“I trust you,” I say. My words come out stronger than I thought they would, but they still feel miles away, almost as if someone else is saying them. “Listen, if we have to go, I need you to grab something for me while I change. Under my bed, there’s a loose floorboard. Wiggle it open and then you’ll find a traveling bag. You can figure it out.”

I run to my dresser, grab out my favorite pair of pants with a clean shirt, and duck behind the changing curtain. Once again, I begin to dress like a boy. I’d like to say I despise it because I’m pretending to be something I’m not, but secretly, that’s the exact reason it’s so exciting. I don’t have to be the royal Lady Wren de la Mage who can’t even take a walk out in the garden without her pretty little petals wilting.

But I also have to face the bittersweet truth that I don’t know how long it’ll be before I’m Lady Wren de la Mage again.

I can’t help but think that I’ll never be her. I’ll die before I get the chance.