Page 38 of Dead Wrong

My sleep was anything but restful.

Fragments of memories flashed through my dreams in spiraling patterns, a kaleidoscope of my life playing out in moments both mundane and poignant. But a common thread kept weaving its way through the mess, tying the pieces together like patches of a quilt—Bastien.

Those memories would linger, allowing me to hold onto them for the briefest time. Moments of kisses pressed into sensitive flesh. Evenings tangled in silken sheets. Meals shared over tables, muddled with laughter and the ache of longing that twinged each time we were forced to part.

When I woke alone in the darkness, it was these memories that planted themselves, sowing their warmth through my shivering body. The air had grown cold, and a thin layer of sweat across my forehead was the physical evidence of the fits that had raged through me during slumber.

Through the haze of recollection, I turned over on my side, expecting another body to be sharing the bed. But I found only empty space and a deafening silence. My feet were still bound at the ankle, I confirmed, pulling back the scratchy blanket and flexing my calves. The blue aura pulsed with energy, keeping my legs firmly in place.

“Hello?” I called into the darkness. “Bastien?”

The air around me swallowed the words, pressing against my ears with a weight that bordered uncomfortable. I raised a hand in front of my face, pressing fingers together to try and snap, but they made no sound.

Magic. I could smell it now, a tang in the air that itched in the back of my throat. Panic swelled in my chest as I clawed at the restraints on my ankles, blue sparks erupting at the contact as it sent an electric jolt up my arm. It was no use. The restraints held fast.

My heart hammered silently in my ears. A glimmer of silver flashed in my periphery, and I raised my hand quickly, fingers grasping the would-be assailant by the wrist and halting a blade trained on my throat. Glittering emerald eyes narrowed at me in the dark, only a stripe of ebony skin visible between the shadowy mask obscuring the assailant’s face.

“Who are you?” I tried to shout, but my lips moved soundlessly, my arm shaking with the exertion of holding my swift demise at bay. My muscles ached, any strength left in them squeezed out with this final moment of self-preservation.

But then, the figure pulled back, wresting their arm from my grasp and dissolving into the shadows. I scrambled to right myself on the bed, taking a deep breath and reaching for the magic in my chest. I attempted to push my aura outward in search of the attacker but was met only with a sharp pain in my temple, blinding me with an eruption of colors. Without focus, the magic withered, withdrawing inside of me. I blinked the spots from my vision enough to catch another flash of silver as the silent blade moved again. This time, I was able to deflect it away from me, the edge catching the fabric of the pillow and ripping it open with soundless efficiency. Before I could move, another hand seized me by the throat, lifting me off the bed in a smooth motion. I gasped for air as my feet left the ground, my assailant manipulating my body with the ease of a child holding a doll. My fingers found purchase on their arm, and my nails dug into the fabric of their sleeve. The emerald eyes appeared once more, widening till they resembled orbs.

With a faintpop, sound returned, assaulting me in a wave.

“Tobias, is that you?”

The voice rang familiar in my head as the assailant lowered me to the ground, their grip lessening enough for me to draw a shaky breath. “Y-Yes, I am Tobias.”

Pulling the mask down that covered her face, the woman exclaimed, “You’re supposed to be dead!”

Familiarity sparked as I gazed down at the woman’s face, a memory of her staring back at me from across the table in Mother’s office rising to the surface.

“I will be soon if you don’t let go, Renata,” I managed, the air through my throat making a slight whistle.

Renata released her hold on me, sheathing the silver knife into the holster on her hip. “How is this possible? Madame Greene told us that you’d been killed by the Rebellion.”

Before I could answer her, I was rocked off my feet by an explosion outside of the tent, the very ground beneath us rippling from the force.

“You can explain later,” Renata said, drawing her dagger once more and stooping down to slice through the magical restraints on my ankles. The sound of metal striking metal rang, and Renata was suddenly very close as she spoke in a hushed whisper, “Stay close to me. Do not make a sound. The raid will be finished soon, but I need to get you to safety.”

Raid? So, this was Mother’s doing. She’d finally found the heart of the rebellion and was making good on her promise to eradicate them. From outside the tent, screams echoed through the night.

I wanted to argue. To tell Renata to go on and pretend she never saw me. But if the Rebellion wouldn’t survive the night, that meant I wouldn’t either.

Did they know Lynette was here, too? I had to get more information.

I nodded to her, shifting my weight back and forth to regain sensation in my toes. My whole body felt heavy and sluggish. I just hoped I would be able to keep up. Renata moved like a shadow ahead of me, her footsteps muted against the soft ground as she led me to the entrance of the tent. Noise washed over us again as we stepped into the cool air, the tumultuous sounds of conflict assaulting from all sides. Two bodies lay at the entrance of the tent, throats slashed open as inky blood seeped into the ground beneath. They were Unseen, I realized as I stepped over them, their glassy eyes staring up at me.

Another scream and a burst of flames erupted from the tent next to us. Renata grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me away from the structures and toward the dark trees that loomed at the edge of camp.

“This way, Your Grace,” Renata encouraged me. “Your mother will be thrilled to hear of your perseverance.”

Fear trickled down my spine. Was I walking toward my end no matter which way I went? If Mother had been the architect of Lynette’s assassination attempt, surely she would have been informed of the cause of my death.

“Not far now,” Renata muttered as we rounded the final row of tents on the outer edge of the camp. Beyond the structures, the night was nearly pitch black, the moon absent from the sky, and the stars a muted tapestry of pinpricks. “I’m going to get you to the extraction point, and from there they’ll?—”

A wet sound and Renata’s grip on me slacked. She spun around to me, her eyes wide again as red blood bloomed across her chest and spilled over her lips.

“R-Run.” The word gurgled from her as she slumped to the ground. A ghostly outline of a clawed hand shrank into the shadows behind, still slick with Renata’s blood.

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