Treasured

21)

Wren

It was my last night in my upstairs bedroom. It would be a relief not to travel up and down the stairs so much, and yet I felt singled out and estranged from the others to some degree or another.

I stood at the window, leaning on the casement as I stared at the grounds. In the moonlight everything glinted silver, or deepened in shadow. It was oddly quiet that night, with only the occasional cricket to break the silence. Even the breeze was still.

My heart pounded, ears zeroing in on the slightest sound. I stared unblinkingly at the man in black. He was boldly staring at my window, although I knew he most likely could not see me, for I was in the darkest corner of the window. And yet, the fact that he was there - that he was on the other side of the walls, on the grounds...

My hands trembled, sweat beaded along my back and lower lip. I suddenly felt sick, cold, and faint. And there he stood, as impassive as ever, leaning against one of the tall poplars that lined the driveway. My heart skipped a beat as he lifted one of his hands in a mocking salute, gesturing towards me.

In an instant I recoiled from the window, panic and fear making my body react before my mind could comprehend what was happening. I hastily crossed the room to my door, ignoring the way my senses heightened in response to my terror.

I flew across the hall, not caring about the pain that shot up my leg from the action. I needed help - an alarm should be raised at the sight of such an intruder...

How could everyone be sleeping at such a time as this?

My fists beat a feverish tempo against the door, matching my heartbeat. My breaths were harsh and ragged, and I knew I must be a sight.

"What is it?" Branson grumped, slowly opening the door, then, "Wren? What ails you? You're as pale as a ghost, and - "

I grabbed his hand, dragging him across the hall and towards my window. My eyes instantly fell upon the tree, widening when the man in black still lingered. I had supposed that I would be counted as fool when he disappeared, but the assassin was always surprising me.

I bit my lip, splitting the skin in my anguish. I barely recognized my own shaky finger, so concentrated on the trespasser was I. Branson's arm curled around me, body stiffening as he sighted the shrouded man.

"We occasionally see drifters, Wren," Branson tried to reassure me. "Do not worry, even if he saw something, nobody would believe him - Mr. Price has an impeccable reputation. I'll go down and inform him, and we'll run the man off together."

My mind ran wild at the thought. If this invisible man was letting himself be known, he had already seen everything he needed to. He had already tried to kill me once, and only a fluke had saved me. What chance was there tonight? How far was he willing to go?

I clung to Branson, trembling so badly my leg buckled. I could see the scene - Branson calling out to the assassin. The assassin luring him far enough that help would arrive too late. I could see the rapier that the man in black strapped to his waist flashing out - piercing Branson, the point dripping crimson on the grounds.

Tears pricked my eyes as I shook my head furiously. My hands snatched against his white sleeping tunic, grabbing it in a fierce hold. Branson would not be murdered on my watch.

"June! Cedar!" Branson thundered, rousing the house.

Footsteps echoed up and down the hall, chasing the sound of doors creaking open and slamming shut.

"It's alright, everyone. Return to your beds," Branson ordered as everyone flooded into the hallway. "There's a trespasser. I'm sure everything will be fine."