[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
He had hunted me, captured me, and locked me in a tower.
Season 3 'Of Crows and Thorns'
***
While in RISING, Tabitha discovers something peculiar that may assist Nelle in her plan to escape the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The sun's dying rays spread a sheen of autumn throughout the room. Streaks of pale yellow and shafts of rust and deep gold played with the creeping shadows on the pillars and the deeper recesses of the room. I was pacing again, back and forth, as I'd done in the early days of being ensnared and trapped in the tower. This time I was chewing on a fingernail as I paced. And this time it wasn't despair that had slunk like thick, smothering ivy—damp and decaying—around my soul and whispered insidiously that I was never going to be free. It was an edgy, uneasy prickly feeling of apprehension that harassed me.
I was worried.
Graysen had spent the entire day away, the longest he'd ever been gone since I'd awoken from nearly slipping into hibernation...or death.
I didn't know what had kept him away.
Me?
Or something else?
Sage lay on the carpet beside Graysen's monstrosity of a bed—his head on his paws, ears alert as he watched me with his silvery eyes, pace back and forth.
I didn't know what to do. If I should be worried or not. And I didn't want to think what could have kept him away, but it had been tormenting me for the past few hours. Was he with a girl? And I hated that jealousy, bitter and acidic, ate at my insides at the thought of him entwined with another girl.
I bit down hard on my fingernail. Scowling, I shoved that jealousy aside—stuffed it down deep; stomped on it, like I'd want to stomp on him if he came back reeking of sickly perfume. I had no right to be jealous. He meant nothing to me. Nothing.
He was my jailer and that was all.
The man I had to crush to get myself free.
Spinning around, I flopped into the oversized armchair, my legs straight and splayed wide with my heels resting on the soft carpet. My baggy dress hung in the gap between my legs—another one of Ferne's summer dresses she'd lent me. I absentmindedly plucked at the delicate leaves embroidered in the skirt, trying to loosen a silver thread. As much as I hated to admit it, I was worried.
Why isn't he back?
Suddenly, Sage surged to his paws.
I sat up straight.
Sage lowered his head. A ripple of fur hackled down his spine. He let out a deep, rumbling growl that sent a chill sliding down my spine. The wraith-wolf prowled ahead to place himself before me. His bright eyes were fixed on the door to Graysen's rooms. A moment later I heard the muffled sound of voices.
I was pushing to my feet in an instant.
The door crashed open.
On the landing was Graysen, his head hanging low, unruly locks falling forward to shield his face. He was half-slumped, leaning into his brother.
