BTS: A Court of Embers

12: The Forbiddance of Mercy

The grand hallways had not changed since she last saw them at dusk. Spiderwebs coated every couch cushion, decorative table, or drape in the room. Bundles of dust piled together on the ground creating clumps so thick that one could mistake them for piles of dirt. Torn art hung sideways from the dark, soot-stained walls if they hung at all. Where the broken frames were, glass scattered over the marble tiles. The chilled breeze sent pieces of a slashed painting fluttering like ribbons from its post.

The statues that enchanted by day were reshaped. Maidens of polished marble and gold became four-winged monsters with sharp teeth and scales. Their eyes bulged from their sculptures, following Maren and Vernice as they skirted into another, wider hallway. Vernice took the lead, bounding over bits of debris or glass to keep from cutting her feet. Every now and then, she sent a wary glance to the ceiling, ceasing motion completely so that she could hear.

Maren tried to take short breaths and mimic the girl ahead. Her throat became drier by the second. If she took too long to inhale, a hundred needles pricked the insides of her lungs. The cold here was brittle and harsh. The kind that felt like it was meant to strip all living things of life. But there was also so much in the air... the rancid stench of charred wood and melted brass, the thick stink of pluming black smoke that neither of them could see. It reeked of a burning world. As though the match that used to light this castle had been blown out.

Such sensations not only made it hard to breathe, but hard to see as well. Her eyes teared from how dry they were becoming. At times when blinking did nothing, she settled for taking a few steps with her eyes closed completely. It soothed the burn, but as soon as she opened them again, the chafing started over more persistently than the last time.

She wiped her eyes, checking on Vernice. The fae hunter covered her nose and lips with her sleeve, forcing herself to be alert even as tears poured down her cheeks.

Then, she went still.

Maren stopped too, the panic of coming to a sudden halt blossoming in her very center. She craned her neck to get a better look at her friend, but Vernice did not move an inch.

As softly and quietly as she could, Maren asked, "What is it?"

But ash caught in her throat. The surrounding dryness snatched the moisture from her mouth. Unable to help it, she coughed into her coat. It echoed into the polluted air. It ricocheted off the walls.

A black mass shot across the vaulted ceiling, enormous and impossibly fast.

"Run," Vernice snapped. "Run!"

Maren sprinted in the only direction that she knew.

The wicked wind around her whooshed as the humongous shadow made a beeline straight down to where she just stood. His landing kicked up a plume of soot, but through the maelstrom his mighty wings spread and the rest of his powerful body stretched to catapult him again.

On shaking legs, Maren hit a sharp turn, nearly barreling into Vernice. "He's coming!" she cried. "He's coming!"

Vernice snatched her hand and led her down the path they had walked almost every day since arrival. Maren's heart lifted as she caught hint of what Vernice was doing. It was a brilliant plan. The garden was the only bit of exposed, open land that any of them had ever visited. Beyond it were plains. Open grasslands until the sharp cut of the treeline marked the Neverin border.

But would they make it on foot when the masked man had wings?

Maren peeked over her shoulder, a scream escaping her lips as the bird with the man's face made it to the threshold at her back. He was bulky enough to fill up the entrance. To completely cover the room behind him. His talons dug into the carpet, his broad chest leaning forward as he pushed towards them, towards her.