Page 41 of Oath of Blood and Joy

The sun had set and the world outside was painted in deepening shades of blue and purple. Dusk cast long shadows across the grounds, transforming familiar objects into menacing silhouettes.

Guards still walked around the parapet, their figures backlit against the fading sky. I studied each one carefully, searching for any hint of the black wings Zoe had described, but there were none. They were just Maximo’s suit-dressed goons, carrying swords that gleamed occasionally when they passed the mounted torches. Their weapons seemed archaic compared toguns, but I’d learned the hard way that a blade could be just as deadly—and significantly quieter.

I leaned my forehead against the windowpane, the glass cool against my skin. My breath created a small circle of fog that expanded and contracted with each exhale. My reflection stared back at me, hollow-eyed and pale with exhaustion. In the middle of the courtyard, illuminated by strategic lighting designed to make it impossible to miss, sat the damn box. The metal prison that had nearly killed Zoe gleamed dully in the artificial light.

Was it just discarded there, a sick reminder of what they were capable of? Or did Marsha and Maximo plan to put another victim inside that box—perhaps me, if I didn’t play their game correctly? Panic seized my lungs at the thought, acid rising in my throat as I imagined being confined in that superheated coffin, feeling my skin blister while my screams echoed within the metal walls.

I needed to know more, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Still, I had to try.

Glancing back at Zoe to confirm she was still asleep, I closed my eyes and tried to remember how the shadows had felt when they’d responded before. Each time had been different—terror at the auction, rage when Henry attacked Zoe, desperation when Enzo was threatened. But how did I call them deliberately?

I reached inside myself, searching for that strange, dark place where the power seemed to live. Nothing. My temples began to throb as I strained harder, trying to force something—anything—to happen.

“Please,” I whispered, frustration building as the shadows in the corners remained stubbornly normal. “I need your help.”

Minutes passed. Sweat beaded on my forehead from the effort of concentration, but the shadows barely flickered. This was hopeless. Maybe I couldn’t control them at all—maybe they only came when I was terrified or furious.

I thought of Zoe’s burned skin, of Maximo’s cold hands on me, of the other girls trapped here. Anger flared in my chest, and finally—finally—the shadows in the room shivered.

“Yes,” I breathed, trying to hold onto that spark of rage. The shadows stretched toward me hesitantly, like timid animals unsure if they could trust me. They felt different than before—weaker, more fragile in the dusk light.

I stared at the window lock, willing the shadows to move toward it. They drifted in that direction, but slowly, unpredictably. When I tried to direct them more precisely, they scattered like startled birds.

My legs shook with the strain. This was nothing like the explosive power I’d felt before. These shadows were barely substantial, wisps that threatened to disappear if I breathed too hard.

“Come on,” I gritted through my teeth, my whole body trembling with effort. The shadow finally reached the lock but seemed to slide right through it, too insubstantial to grip anything solid.

Panic rose in my throat. What if I couldn’t do this? What if?—

The emotion triggered something. The shadow suddenly solidified just enough to catch the lock mechanism. I held my breath, afraid to move, as it fumbled around the catch like a blind person searching in the dark.

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, I heard a soft click. The lock disengaged, and I immediately lost control—the shadow dissolving back into ordinary darkness as I collapsed against the wall, gasping and dizzy from the ordeal.

The window swung open, and the cool evening air hit my face. Oh God, what was I doing? I stared out at the fortress grounds below—guards, walls, weapons I didn’t understand. This was insane. I had no idea how to sneak around, no plan beyond “find answers.”

But Zoe’s labored breathing behind me reminded me why I had to try. I pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, then grabbed a pillow and shoved it under the covers where I’d been lying. It looked ridiculous, like a child’s attempt at hiding, but it was all I could think to do.

With one last glance at Zoe, I silently promised her I’d be back as I slipped through the window, clinging to what meager shadows the fortress walls provided. Every step would be a challenge, but I couldn’t wait. I had to discover Maximo’s plan now—while I still had a chance to stop it.

I slowly edged over to the narrow stone ledge that ran beneath the windows. The rough surface scraped against my palms as I pressed myself flat against the wall, the dizzying drop below sending my heart racing. Ancient mortar crumbled under my fingertips, tiny pieces falling like miniature meteors to the courtyard far below. A guard passed beneath me, oblivious to my presence three stories above his head.

To my right, about ten feet away, a decorative gargoyle jutted out from the fortress wall—an ugly stone sentinel that could provide better concealment than this exposed ledge. Beyond that, I could make out the dim outline of a maintenance ladder attached to the wall. If I could reach it without being spotted, I might be able to descend to the lower levels where I hoped Maximo’s office would be.

Drawing in a steadying breath, I began to inch sideways toward the gargoyle, testing each section of the ledge before trusting it with my weight. The fading light of dusk worked both for and against me—making me harder to spot from below but revealing just how weathered and treacherous my stone pathway truly was.

When I reached the gargoyle, my path was blocked. The stone creature jutted out too far from the wall to edge around.My heart sank as I stared at it, paralyzed with indecision. How was I supposed to get past this thing?

I pressed myself against the wall, trying to see if there was any way around it, but the drop yawned below me, making my head spin. Going back wasn’t an option—I’d come too far. But I’d never climbed anything like this before. I didn’t even like heights.

Maybe I could... climb over it? The thought made my stomach lurch, but what choice did I have?

I reached up with trembling hands, my fingers finding the gargoyle’s shoulder. The stone was rougher than I expected, scraping my palms as I tried to pull myself up. My arms shook with effort—I’d never been particularly strong, and fear was making me clumsy.

My foot slipped off the ledge as I tried to haul myself higher, sending a shower of loose mortar cascading into the courtyard below. I hung there for a terrifying moment, supported only by my grip on the gargoyle’s shoulder, my legs dangling in empty air.

“Please don’t fall, please don’t fall,” I whispered, scrabbling desperately with my feet until I found purchase on what felt like the creature’s arm. I didn’t dare look down to see exactly what I was standing on.

Somehow, I managed to get one leg over the gargoyle's back, shivering as the cold, dew-slicked stone pressed against my skin. I straddled it like a horse, shaking so badly I could barely hold on. This was nothing like the movies—I felt ridiculous and terrified, and I had no idea how I was going to get down from here.

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