Killian doesn't show up to class the next day.
I find myself searching for his dark eyes when I slump in my seat, but he isn't there. And three hours later, when we head to the courtyard for a break, he still hasn't shown.
Professor Fin doesn't seem fazed, which I take to be incredibly hypocritical, and only adds to the list of things about Killian that irritates me—what kind of professor's assistant gets no flack for being a no-show?
"Maybe he's trying to get a different job," Jakob suggests, taking a set on one of the benches under the oak tree.
"During the hours of his current job?" Raven asks skeptically.
"Maybe things in Portson are different."
"Doubt it," Cadence adds. "I don't know why he even has one in the first place. He doesn't seem that much older than us. Where are his parents?"
I think of what Killian told me yesterday about why he moved to Veymaw. His father went missing, and he never mentioned anything about his mother, but he kept referring to 'I' and not 'we' when talking about moving here. I can only assume that means he's alone, but I don't say anything as Jakob and Raven continue to theorise his whereabouts. It would be a lie to say I haven't wondered myself.
Browning leaves scatter from the tree above. I gaze up at the sky, the sun is high and warm. "Wanna go lie in the sun?" I whisper to Cadence.
"It's like you read my mind." She hooks her arm through mine and tugs me over to the slightly raised grass patch. We stretch ourselves out across the earth and hike the skirts of our dresses up so our legs are exposed to the sun—something Professor Fin would scold us for if he saw.
"You know, sometimes I think I don't want to finish school," Cadence says, stretching her legs out. The sun shines down on her, turning her maroon dress a brighter shade. "We'll never be this free ever again, Frey."
I hum in agreement, my mind still caught on the same topic as Jakob and Raven. Where is Killian? It's not like there are that many things to do in Veymaw, and unless he fell seriously ill overnight, there are not many excuses our professors accept for not showing to class. I think of what he'd said to me yesterday before Casimir called me inside. He was going to ask something. What?
"Sleep better last night?" Cadence asks.
"Yeah."
I roll over to face her, letting my hair fall over my neck. I don't usually wear my hair down, but the cut on my neck is still there, scabbed over and healing, but visible, nonetheless. I'd managed to hide it from Casimir, but Cadence is much more perceptive than he is.
Just as promised, Casimir camped out in my room last night, dragging his mattress across the hall and practically planting himself in front of the doorway. I could've climbed out the window if I'd wanted, but I didn't. I watched his chest rise and fall as he fell asleep. If I went to the forge, he'd have caught me. But that's not the only thing that kept me glued to the bed. I subconsciously raise my hands to my neck. I could have died. And if I keep looking for the deserters, I still could.
I dreamt of them last night, of the story Killian told us about the deserters in Portson. They'd had their heads cut off, sent to the Palace as evidence. Only in my dream it was me being handed over, my head on a silver platter. Anxiety coils in my stomach.
"Thanks for asking, Cadence, it means a lot." I put my hand over hers. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"Of course." She gives me a funny look. "You okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. You just sound weird." I laugh, leaning back again and staring at the sky. "You want to go to the Tavern after dinner for some cocoa? Just us, no Jakob, I promise."
"I promised Cas I'd have dinner with him tonight," I say. Casimir and I are training after dinner—we have to wait for night-time, when most people have already gone to bed, to avoid getting caught.
"What about lunch?"
"I'd like that."
We lean back again, watching the clouds move past. I want to capture this moment and hold it in my palm, store it away for later. I don't know how many days we have like this left. I don't know what the future awaits, whether I'll find the deserters or my brother, or if I'll end up in a situation like I did in the forge the other night and not escape with my life. But whatever comes, I'll hold onto this moment. Because like most of the people in this village, like I was, Cadence is loyal to the shifters who rule over us.
If she knew what I was doing when the sun went down, I'm not so sure she'd look at me the same ever again.
***
Adrenaline pulses through my veins, hot and fiery as I pull my dagger from its sheath, swinging around to swipe at Casimir. He catches my arm before I can strike him, spinning me around and holding me to his chest.
"You're getting sloppy," he murmurs.
Breaking his hold, I swing my leg around, towards his head, but he ducks so fast he blends in with the night. I lower to a crouch, narrowing my eyes as I survey the area around us. We're deep in the forest, far enough from the village that nobody can hear us.
He comes out of nowhere, kicking my feet out from beneath me and I fall flat on my back. Ouch. Casimir appears over me, offering me a hand with a frown. "What's with you tonight?" he asks.
He's right. I'm not usually so distracted, but I can't stop thinking about the deserters, the dream I'd had last night. I grab his arm and pull myself up, swinging my fist to his throat. He catches it, throwing it away and I grunt in frustration as he ducks behind me, hiding amongst the shrubs.
"You're not thinking," he murmurs from behind me. "You're all impulse, no strategy."
I close my eyes, tuning my ears into the sound of the forest. A gentle breeze licks against my skin, the late-night calls of birds bouncing off the trees.
Crunch.
Twisting my body, he's right where I expected, about to attack from behind. I catch his arm, twist it till I can get my other arm around his shoulders and hold the dagger to his throat. Casimir's frame relaxes at the feel of the blade.
"That was better," he says. I release him, reaching up to wipe the sweat from my brow. Casimir grins at me, readjusting his shirt. "But still, not good."
I frown, tugging at the neckline of his tunic I'm wearing. "I just got you, didn't I?"
"Only because I let you."
I've grown stronger in the year that he's been training me; I can feel it in my muscles, in the way the feeling of the hilt of a dagger against my palm brings me comfort. But I know he doesn't put his full effort into fighting with me, he just defends my advances.
"What's the point then?" I raise my brows. "When I truly need to defend myself, I highly doubt my captor will be as generous as you."
"That's never going to happen."
It almost did, the other night in the forge. I'd been lucky to escape with my life, but I don't dare mention that. "But if—"
"No ifs, Frey." His eyes meet mine, darkening. "If I have anything to do with it, you'll never be in a situation like that again."
My stomach clenches. His words bring the memory to the forefront of my mind—the helplessness I felt while in that cupboard, the dagger in my hand but no idea how to use it. I hid and cowered. I did nothing. I wonder that's part of the reason why none of us are ever taught how to defend ourselves—because then we'd be able to fight back.
Growing up, I never knew Casimir knew how to fight. He never told me how, but after that night, he dragged me to the forest one night, put a dagger in my hand, and told me to try to stab him. I'd thought he was crazy. Even now, when I ask him how he learnt, he murmurs something about growing up in the orphanage. I never pressed it.
In the distance, a low howl echoes through the trees. I turn to look over my shoulder, a chill crawling down my spine. We hear them occasionally from the village, but only usually as the Red Moon gets closer. It's a stark reminder.
"You should head back," Casimir says, brows drawing together as he stares out at the forest.
I scoop up my dress from where it fell on the ground. I must've stood on it while we fought because the front is dirtied and brown. I consider throwing it on just in case. If anyone in the village sees me wearing Casimir's clothes, a man's clothes, there would be questions. Questions we don't need. But I decide against it, tossing it over my shoulder instead. We're deep in the forest, and I can get back to the cabin without having to go through the village centre. Nobody will see me.
Casimir bends over, gathering the dagger lodged at the trunk of the tree, before looking up at me. "Can I trust that you'll actually go home, or do I need to drag you?"
"You're not heading back with me?"
"I have to stop by the fields. Jyro asked me to check on the netting. Pests have been getting in at night."
"Don't you already do enough for him? Just tell him no."
"We could use the money."
"Why? To buy more guns?" I say. He shoots me a dark look. "Seriously, Cas. You don't have to work so hard all the time." He doesn't say anything, adjusting his collar. "I'll come with you."
"It's getting late and you have school tomorrow."
"So?"
"Just promise me you won't go to the forge while I'm gone, okay?"
I sigh. "I promise."
He gives me a stern look that says he'll give me hell if I do, before turning and heading in the direction that heads towards the fields. I take my dagger from the tree and sheath it at my thigh, readjusting the neckline of the tunic. I'd buttoned it all the way to the top so Casimir wouldn't see the cut, but now, it chokes me. I undo the first two buttons and take a deep breath.
The air is crisp as I wander back, my body cooling down from our sparring. I take my time heading back, taking in the sounds of the forest as it comes alive under the moon. We're out further than the lake, halfway between the village and the forge—the place somebody is least likely to follow us. It takes everything inside of me not to turn and head to the forge, but even if I wanted to break my promise, I could never head there dressed like this.
Snap.
I halt, spinning my head to stare behind. "Cas?"
Only the chirps of insects respond. Tension coils in my spine as I scan the trees, my hand slowly reaching for the dagger sheathed at my thigh. I let out a shaky breath, picking up my pace when I turn around, gripping the dagger tight in my palm. I've never been afraid of the forest, not even at night, but something doesn't feel right.
I hear it again, the rustling of bushes, and raise my dagger. Sometimes, thieves from the forge find their way into Veymaw and create havoc, but that's almost as rare occurrence as the Red Moon. I shake my head. There's nothing there, it's probably in my head—still twisted from the nightmares Killian's story inspired. But still, I watch and wait.
Snap.
I swing my body around, launching my dagger towards the sound of the captor. They catch my hand mid-air, stopping my advances, and my eyes dart up.
My entire body tenses, and my heart halts in my chest.