Page 46 of Hair, She Bears
“Do it,” she needled. “Drop me.”
With a snarl, Mother yanked her through the window and flung her across the tower. She smashed into the sofa, knocking the oxygen from her lungs, and collapsed backward onto the floor. Mother’s heavy boots echoed. He wrapped his hands through her hair and jerked her head up as blood streamed down her chin.
“I can do this all day.”
“Every bruise you give me will delay your production.” She glared at him, unblinking.
“Your parents will pay for your insolence.”
“Tell them I said hello.”
Her head crashed back to the floor, and Mother vanished. An angry howl rose from the prison window. Within seconds, Mother reappeared, his hand reclaiming his painful hold on her head.
“Where are they?” Mother struck Zenna across the face, and pain detonated in her head.
“Malik hid them,” she replied, a smirk stretching her lips. “And that secret died with him.”
A snarl vibrated in Mother’s throat. “Malik is not the only one with talents.”
“Then find them,” she glowered, a dare hovering in her retort. “Until you do, I refuse to make more Votras Alute.”
Mother struck her again, and stars exploded behind her eyes. Blow after blow rained down on her body until she collapsed on the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head, Mother’s contorted face was the last image she saw before she lost consciousness.
Cold seeped into her skin. She opened one eye, her gaze sliding over the tower. Where was Mother? Opening the other eye, she winced, and her limbs throbbed. How long had Mother stayed to punish her after she passed out?
She rolled onto her side, the ginger movement drawing a hiss to her lips, followed by a sob as the realization of Mother’s actions washed over her. Malik was dead, thrown from the tower with broken wings, his shattered body discarded somewhere in the courtyard. She bawled, her misery echoing tauntingly off the rafters. Without Malik’s influence, neither Carlyle nor Moira would assist her. She was on her own, but it was only a matter of time before Mother returned from his futile hunt for her parents. With failure as his motivation, Zenna knew Mother would revert to a perverse form of torture. She was her only chance of survival.
Struggling to her feet, she hobbled to the worktable and grasped the knife, a hasty plan forming in her mind. She glanced at the mirror, her gaze on the pale, waif-like girl who stared back.
“Nothing holds you to this place,” she said.
She gripped her hair at the base of her neck and exhaled. Drawing the blade across her hair, she cut the blond tresses in one quick swipe. Dropping the hair, she stepped forward and shivered as an incredible feeling of weightlessness passed over her.
“Alright, Malik,” she spoke as though he were standing beside her. “You said to tie it around the armoire leg.”
Gathering the hair, she carted it over to the armoire and wrapped it around the armoire leg twice. Her gaze skipped to the staircase. There was only one thing she wanted from this place. She raced up the stairs and dove onto the bed. Rooting under the pillow, she pulled out the small sack, retrieved her necklace, and fastened the silver chain around her neck.
She hastened down the stairs and gathered her hair. After flinging the hair out the window, she pulled on it, ensuring it was tightly fastened around the armoire. Climbing onto the window ledge, she turned around, her gazing sweeping over the tower, her home for the past twenty years.
Hooking her hands around her hair, she leaned out the window and climbed down the side of the tower. When she reached the end of her hair, she released the golden tresses and dropped to the ground, landing lightly on her feet.
She spun slowly, her eyes drinking in the compound. Everything seemed so small when she was high above the grounds. She knew the only exit was to the north, but running across the open courtyard seemed risky. If she hugged the walls of the compound, she should be able to escape unnoticed.
A faint sound caught her attention. She froze and pressed against the tower. Had someone seen her climb down? Her gaze slid over the courtyard, seeking the sound. It came again from her right, brittle, as though the owner were struggling to breathe. She narrowed her eyes and gasped.
Ducking her head, she raced over to a small clump of grass. Buried in the greenery was the small black body of a raven.
“Malik?” Hope bubbled in her heart. A moan answered her question. “Don’t move.”
She knelt, dug her hands under his body, lifted him from the ground, and tucked him into her shirt, cradling him against her breast. She didn’t have much time. Her eyes flicked back to the tower. Without any Votras Alute to heal him, she would need to make more, and—except for her hair—the ingredients she needed were in the tower.
“I really hope you appreciate what I’m doing for you,” she said into her shirt.
Darting back to the tower, Zenna’s gaze scanned the courtyard for any signs of Mother or his men. When she reached the tower, she scaled the wall, slowly climbing until she reached the ends of her hair. She grasped the hair, and hauled herself up the side, hand over hand, sweat pouring down her back.
When the top of her head reached the window, she flung her arm up and grabbed hold of the windowsill. Pulling herself up, her feet scraping against the side of the tower, she dragged herself halfway through the window, twisting awkwardly so as not to crush the raven.
“Going somewhere?”
