Page 16 of Cursed Shadows 5

My aimlessness has a direction. I realise that when I reach the edge of the street where the bridges start, and the buildings are a bit nicer. If I keep going this way, I will find myself at Hemlock House.

I stop in my tracks.

Not only because I should, not so I can turn around and leave this direction behind. I stop because a shout follows me.

“Narcissa!” The shout is lacquered with shock, slick with disbelief—and it wavers with desperation.

My throat thickens.

I throw a wavering look over my shoulder as though I’ll see my father standing behind me, since his call was so close, but I only see more fae parents clinging to their younglings, an elder, and a human dressed in such fine clothes that I think him to be an adopted one.

Beyond them, rows of carriages creak in the winds and the push of the crowd. Kelpies are growling, a constant undercurrent to the thunderous spiral of Cursed Shadows far up the hill at Comlar.

I turn for the nearest carriage.

Behind it, there’s a wedge of darkness, the kind that isn’t illuminated at all, not by lanterns or fireflies or candles. A lane of sorts, I assume.

I aim for it.

“Narcissa!” Father’s voice seems so far away now, an echo, a shadow—like the shadows Daxeel kept with him as a second skin, a layer of his self.

But now, those shadows are gone…

I slip around the rear of the black carriage, its wooden slats rotted and peeling.

“Nari…” A bottled whisper from behind me.

My heart slingshots.

I freeze, eyes widening.

It’s not Father.

It isn’t Pandora who has snuck up behind me.

My skin prickles.

I lower my head for a heartbeat, then draw in a long, steadying breath.

“Nari, please…” he whispers, soft, so soft that his voice should be swept away by the deafening noise all around us. It isn’t.

My lips suck inwards. Slick with salt, I taste my own tears.

The gentlest brush of air disturbs the loose tendrils that fall down my nape, escaped from my dishevelled braids.

He is close.

Too close.

I set my shoulders, firm.

I don’t say a word. I don’t turn to look at him.

I lift my chin and, hands fisting at my sides, stalk down the paved path. I pass the lane, and I’m in such a hurry to get away from him that I don’t even stop to peer down it.

I search for another escape, one far from Daxeel.

He doesn’t follow.

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