Not Every Prison Has Bars

I wake up gasping.

My hand flies to my throat, then my chest, where my heart is pounding so hard it hurts. For one disorienting moment, my body doesn't feel like mine. It feels wrong, changed somehow.

*Just what did he do*—

The memories crash back.

The prison. The vampires. *Him.*

I shoot upright—

Instead of the dank, freezing stones of the Guild's dungeons, I’m lying in a heavy four-poster bed draped in dark velvet.

I blink once. Where am I?

My eyes sweep the room, searching first for threats.

No vampires.

Instead, I find a room so lavish it feels unreal, a stark contrast to the utilitarian stone walls of the Guild.

The room makes no sense.

Am I in the Capital?

I throw the blankets aside and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The moment my feet touch the floor, a wave of dizziness hits me.

I lean quickly against one of the thick bedposts, gripping the dark velvet drapes until the room steadies again.

My fingers immediately search for the familiar weight of my dagger.

Empty.

My belt is gone.

I run my hands over my torso, a sudden spike of panic wrapping my throat. Someone has stripped away my leather armor. In its place, I’m wearing a loose, simple linen tunic that feels far too light and too vulnerable.

I force myself to breathe. If whoever had taken me wanted me dead, I would’ve woken up to chains… or not at all.

Pushing off from the bedpost, I test my balance. My knees still tremble, but at least the room isn't spinning any more. I push past the heavy drapes and make my way toward the tall, arched windows on the far wall.

I press my hands against the glass. The latch doesn't budge and the view yields almost nothing. Only a thick fog rolls across an endless expanse of dark treetops below, swallowing anything that might tell me where I am.

Useless.

I turn from the window and head to the door.

Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I press my ear flat against the cold wood and pause.

Nothing. Not even footsteps.

I slowly press the handle down and it gives.

*Unlocked?*

The thought catches me off guard. If they meant to keep me prisoner, why leave the door unsecured?

I ease it open only a fraction, just enough to peer through the gap.

A long corridor stretches in both directions, lit by flickering wall torches that cast restless shadows across the crimson carpets. No guards. No voices. No movement.

*A trap?*

I glance back into the room, searching every piece of furniture for something I can use as a weapon.

My gaze settles on a heavy brass candlestick resting on top of a polished dresser. It isn't balanced like a dagger, and recovering from a full swing would leave me wide open. Still, it is better than empty hands.

I cross the room, wrap my fingers around the cool brass, and test its weight.

Heavy. It will have to do.

Returning to the doorway, I adjust my grip on the candlestick before slipping silently into the corridor.

I keep my back close to the wall, my bare feet sinking into the thick carpet as I move. Every instinct tells me to sprint, but noise is death in a place like this.

As I approach a grand, sweeping staircase at the end of the hall, low voices echo from below.

“…are you sure she's the same one?” a voice says.

I freeze, pressing myself into a recessed alcove behind a heavy velvet tapestry, my heart hammering against my ribs.

A heavy silence follows. Then another voice answers, low and steady.

“Yes.”

I press the brass candlestick close to my chest. I would recognize the infuriating voice anywhere.

I risk a glance through a gap in the tapestry.

Two figures stand in what looks like a grand sitting room below. One of them has his back to me, but I'd know those broad shoulders beneath a dark coat anywhere.

*The green-eyed vampire. Kaine.*

The other man folds his arms. I know him as well. He’s the blond, glasses-wearing vampire who called him master and answered me in the prison cell.

“But you could be wrong… she could just look like her.”

Another silence. This one lasts longer than the other.

I keep my weight balanced on the balls of my feet, scanning the perimeter of the upper landing for a back stairwell, a servant's door, or a balcony—anything that leads out.

A heavy oak door past the stairway catches my eye. I shift my weight again. If I can reach it while they're distracted—

“Their names were never Eira.”

I freeze. *What?*

“That still doesn't prove anything. It could be a coincidence.”

“I don't believe in that. I know she's the one.”

The one for what? A dozen questions pull at my mind, but my gaze returns to the oak door.

Answers can wait. First I need to get back to the Guild. Whatever he wants from me, he can't have it if I'm gone. I shift my weight carefully onto my front foot and move.

An exhale comes. “Assuming you're right, what was the need for giving her your mark?”

I keep close to the wall, slipping from one pool of shadow into the next. One step. Two. I'm getting closer and neither vampire has looked up.

“Her protection.”

My foot falters.

*Protection?*

The word makes no sense.

He kidnapped me and stole my armor and weapons. If that was his idea of protection, then the sooner I leave, the better.

I reach the door and curl my fingers around the handle.

*Please don't creak…*

Relief floods through me when it doesn't. I slip inside, easing the door shut behind me.

It opens into a small sitting room, elegant but unused. Another set of glass doors stands along one wall, veiled by dark curtains stirring in the breeze.

A balcony.

My pulse quickens.

I cross the room in three silent strides and pull the doors open. Warm air rushes over my skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. But hope lasts all of three seconds.

The forest stretches endlessly in every direction. I grip the stone railing and look down. The ground is farther away than I'd hoped. My eyes desperately search for another way. A tree. A ledge. Anything.

There.

An old, massive tree leans toward the balcony, its highest branches still several feet beyond my reach.

Too far.

Maybe.

I measure the distance again.

The landing will hurt, and if I mistime it, I'll probably break a few bones. But better a broken leg than a vampire's cage.

I ease the candlestick to the ground as quietly as I can. Then I climb onto the stone railing.

Before I can lose my resolve, I push off.

For one impossible breath, I am weightless. Wind tears through my hair as I reach for the branch.

Then something ignites at the side of my neck.

Pain.

It rips through every nerve in my body, burning from my neck and spreading through me like wildfire.

A scream tears from my throat as my fingers claw at the air.

But it doesn't matter.

The branch slips past my reach.

I am falling.

The forest rushes up to meet me.

Firm fingers clamp around my wrist.

Then the fall stops.

My body jerks violently to a stop.

I blink through the haze of pain.

Green eyes.

No.

Kaine.

He regards me with that same infuriating calm, as though catching someone in midair is a frequent occurrence.

“You really have no sense of self-preservation.”