Page 9 of Beyond Those Gilded Walls

Her cheeks flushed as she scurried away. The smile fell from my face, trampled beneath the footsteps of all those who passed me, trying and failing to conceal their stares. I had grown indifferent to the gaping mouths and sharp inhales that my Death marks drew. They’d been etched across my skin for half a year now, and yet it felt like I’d been born with them.

Before the cursed plague swept through Veressia, I would have withered under the attention, but now, it just made the vein in my temple throb and my jaw clench.

The first time I had braved the city streets after I’d recovered had been difficult, and I refused to leave the house for weeks after. The first person my mother and I had passed by had openly gawked at my marks. The man had glared at me and ushered his family away with a huff about how I should not have been allowed in public. I had nearly punched him in the mouth. Only my mother’s calming hand on my arm had prevented it.

“You control your emotions, your actions, Odyssa,” she’d told me. “Not them. Do not give them that power.”

I tilted my head back and inhaled the smell of stale copper and acrid smoke. The Death marks were a punishment, a reminder that I had lived and my mother had not. But I was not ashamed of them.

Lowering my chin, I made eye contact with each person who stared at me.

I lingered as the last people left the area, waiting for my chance to enter the pub unseen. Despite the fact that my brothers had directed me here, I feared the repercussions for them if anyone saw me enter and assumed I was volunteering willingly. Once it was clear, I brushed my hair behind my ear and pulled open the door to the pub.

Before my eyes could adjust to the dim lighting inside, a hairy arm and large hand stretched across the doorway, barring me from moving any further.

“We’re closed.” The large man peered down at me as he pulled his arm back slowly before crossing both arms over his chest. It was a hardly necessary intimidation tactic—the circumference of his arm was larger than my head, even without him puffing them out just so.

“I watched him walk in here.” I raised my chin towards the man who’d been speaking outside. Being meek and cowering would serve me no purpose here. “I’d like to speak with him.”

“So willing to serve the crown, eh?” His lip curled up in a sneer.

“I am willing to save my family, whatever be the cost.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment as he sucked at his teeth. I refused to look away, refused to back down from the silent judgement. I would save Emyl and Rhyon, even if I had to drag this entire kingdom down with me to do so.

Whatever he saw in my face passed his inspection, and wordlessly he stepped aside, raising his chin towards the back corner of the pub. The castle’s pageboy was sitting there in the shadows, barely visible from the light of the candles in the center of the table.

Ash coated my tongue and my ears filled with that incessant buzzing noise—my only warning before a swarm of flickering mist began to solidify at my side. My jaw clicked. Even here, I could not escape the Soulshades vying for my attention. I hurried over to the table, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

“Can I help you, young lady?” The man looked both up at me yet down his nose at the same time. “I’m quite busy.”

“Oh?” I bit my tongue to hold back the rest of the sharp remark and pressed the words into my cheek in favor of a more palatable response. “I heard the prince was looking for new staff. I’d like to volunteer and was told to find you.”

He studied me for a long moment over the rim of his mug. A part of me hoped he would find me lacking in some way and send me back home. Then at least I could tell my brothers that I had tried to do it their way, and I wasn’t good enough for the prince.

“Why?” He put his mug down and laced his fingers together. “This city seemed content to turn to conscription. Yet you are here. Why?”

“My family needs to eat.” Perhaps I should have added some emotion to my voice, but truly, there was little else I could say, and little reason to lie. Was he expecting me to say that I’d longed my entire life to be locked inside a gilded cage with an egotistical child for a prince? Hardly.

He chuffed a laugh, leaning back in his seat. “Quite right, I suppose.”

“So?”Tell me no. Tell me no. Tell me no.

“Seeing as how you’ve been our only volunteer thus far, I suppose you will have to do.” He stood from the table, picking up and draining his mug, smacking his lips as he set it back down. He clapped his hands. “Well? Shall we?”

I barely stopped the shock that nearly jolted my body. “Now? You said tomorrow.”

“Well, yes, for those conscripted. You can go now to the castle.” He raised an eyebrow at me, pursing his lips. “Unless you had something more important to attend to.”

I looked back over my shoulder, as if I could see all the way back to my house and inside to wherever my brothers were. Biting my lip, I swayed on my feet. I’d not been able to say goodbye to them, and though I doubted very much they would wish to speak with me now, it still hurt. It still tore what was surely left of my soul into pieces.

Both would likely forget me, if not from the passing of time, then by choice. I could not say which would be worse.

I turned back to the man, rolling my shoulders back. There was no use in lingering. Emyl had made his choice quite clear, and if there was one thing we had in common, it was that once our minds were made up, there’d be no changing them. “No, I am ready.”

His eyes narrowed and he raised a finger to point at my neck. “You survived?”

I refused to blush, refused to show any shame for surviving this hell. I kept my chin raised. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

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