The Wicked Born

Chapter 10

Tabitha and Dacre hadn't retired to their inn room until the early hours of the morning. Most of the rest of the time that they spent in Ellias' office under the tavern was spent with her nervously pacing the length of the room, shooting venomous remarks at all of Ellias' smart-ass comments and trying to keep patient when answering all of the questions that Dacre had.

Her and Dacre hadn't said a word to each other since they'd stepped out of the tavern. They'd went back to their room at the inn that night, and Tabitha had the strange feeling once again that something was amiss regarding the room. None of neither her nor Dacre's possessions were misplaced, so she roughly shoved the thought out of her mind and forced herself to sleep. They would be leaving for the castle soon, and she needed these last few moments of peace before the world around them was sure to descend into utter chaos.

Tabitha awoke before the sun rose that morning and drew herself a hot bath. The water turned her pale skin bright red on contact, but she forced herself to sit inside of it and contemplate what exactly her new plan was for freeing her sister. Her original plan was turning herself over to the King to appease his want for a red witch and then sneaking her sister out with Dacre's help before she was able to get close enough slit the King's throat. The fact that he now had a different red witch changed everything. It meant that her little sister was expendable, and he was more than willing to eliminate her.

Tabitha clenched her fists hard as she thought about her sister's looming execution date. It made her sick to think about the fact that she had to leave her rotting in the castle dungeons for so long--every killer instinct in her body begged for her to simply wreck her way through the castle and find her sister. She'd slaughter every person who got in her way. But she knew that her sister was under constant guard, and intel that some of Ellias' spies have received told her that those guards were given the command to kill Bexley if they ever caught wind that the witch was on a reign of terror throughout the castle.

So she knew that she had to be patient and execute a thorough plan, but it was still hard for her to imagine her sweet sister by herself every night, thinking that she was as good as dead for a reasons that she couldn't even begin to fathom. Tabitha hadn't realized that her knuckles were clenched hard enough to reopen the wounds in her palms that she gave herself the night before with the splintered chair until the water surrounding her began to take on a pink shade with her blood diluted throughout. She scowled at her lack of awareness, dipping her bloodied hands into the hot water to clean the wounds out with soap. She spent another 10 minutes in the tub, watching absentmindedly as her skin began to stitch itself back together over her insignificant wounds, before she rose and dried off quickly.

Dacre was awake and ready to leave for the day by the time she made it out of the bathroom, simply sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for her to come out. She didn't acknowledge his presence further than the quick look she gave him once she entered the room. She just turned on her heel and exited the inn, knowing that he was following quickly behind her the entire time.

Tabitha knew that she was doing one of her fast walks that was hard for a mortal even with the stamina that Dacre had to keep up with. She heard him heave behind her, his footfalls loud as he followed her path on the road. She forced herself to slow down, but she was annoyed for having to do it regardless. She had more important things to worry about than making sure that Dacre could keep up with her.

As if sensing her thoughts, his deep voice dragged her out of her thoughts behind him as he said, "Tabitha." She slowed her pace considerably more, not turning around to face him but making it known that she'd heard him all the same. Her steps halted completely when his large, warm palm caressed her right shoulder.

"Look at me, Tabitha," his gruff whisper demanded. She typically would have bristled at being told what to do, but something made her comply. She pivoted and faced him directly, pulling her hood back slightly so that their eye contact was unobstructed.