Page 107 of A House of Cloaks & Daggers

I ran back to the door, almost smashing my nose into it as I fumbled for the lock on the handle and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

I yanked it again, twisting and turning it until my hands were so clammy they slipped right off.

“You let me out right now,” I demanded of the House, voice shaking.

The inside lock clicking back into place was my only answer.

It was locked from both sides.

Pain throbbed through my toes, shooting all the way to my ankle as I kicked at the door. It was useless. The blasted House had locked me in from both sides, keeping me prisoner for the very first time.

Enyd will tell them about the Malum General. She wanted me to do that, and she’ll find out soon enough that I hadn’t been able to, and then she’ll fill them in…

I staggered back from the door, breathing raggedly, and pinned my hateful stare on the ceiling. “If he dies, it’s on you,” I told the House.

The question that popped into my head was in my own voice, but I had an unnerving feeling that the House had put it there—even though that was impossible.

Which one?

Chapter forty-four

Poisoned

The sound of gallopinghorses stirred me from a light, restless sleep.

I opened my eyes to find the glass window only an inch from my face, the sky outside barely beginning to lighten from onyx into a steely blue.

Dawn was still a fair way off. I’d paced the length of my bedroom long into the night, occasionally trying to reason with the House or make a bargain for my release from the bedroom, but I must have fallen asleep when I eventually conceded and took up watch by the window.

There had been nothing to see. My window provided a view across the back gardens and the loch, and the shadows remained undisturbed all night.

Scrubbing the sleep from my eyes, I pushed away from the window and shuffled around on the seat to face my door. Absolute silence enveloped the House as if all of the occupantswere fast asleep, and I wondered if Wren and Lucais had come back yet.

I checked the doorknob. Locked.

Right as I was about to recommence cussing out the House, there was a crash in the hallway. Another blanket of eerie silence followed, and I pulled my leg back, ready to kick at the door until the House let me out.

Theflickas the locks switched stopped me.

When I pulled it open, I found the hallway empty. The walls flickered with shadows cast by the faint candlelight from the sconces, and the air was chilly. I swept my gaze down both ends of the hall before I stepped outside.

Something wet and sticky touched my bare feet, and I looked down to find the carpet smothered with blood. The trail ended a few feet away, just before a corner of the hallway. I followed the river of blood towards the doorway that Wren had been standing in front of the previous night.

Glass was shattered on the floor, a cabinet of magical relics was pushed on its side, and a blood-soaked body was lying slumped over in the middle of the mess.

The blond hair was more familiar to me than my own reflection.

Wren.

Stifling a scream, I dropped to my knees and scooted across the shards of glass, covering my hands with my sleeves and being careful to keep my bare feet elevated behind me. When I was close enough to touch his outstretched hand, I grabbed it and began to shake his arm.

“Wren,” I said, my voice trembling. “Wren, wake up.”

He was clad in black leather, slick with moisture, but there were no visible injuries. I found myself praying to the human gods that we were not lying in his blood.

“Wren,” I repeated, louder. “Wren,wake up!”

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