A memory came to her, of a time not so long ago, when all was well in the City of Gold and Cleo’s biggest problem was having an overprotective king for a father and an overachieving heiress for a sister. Cleo had always craved freedom, had hated being cooped up in the palace.
She was with Emilia in her chambers when she noticed the vine- and flower-covered trellis alongside her sister’s balcony.
The trellis made her think of the fence Nic had once climbed in order to fetch her a perfect red rose, and she’d decided to try it for herself. All she’d succeeded in doing was ruining her new gown, which got her in very deep trouble with her nanny. But she’d enjoyed the climbing, had reveled in her ability to get somewhere through only her own strength and balance.
“I want to try something,” little Cleo had told Emilia, and without waiting for a response, she began climbing over the railing.
Emilia had put her book down and raced to the balcony. “Cleo! You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“No, I won’t.” Her foot found a sturdy hold and she grinned up at her sister. “Look at me! I think I’ve found a new way to escape from the palace.”
But Emilia’s trellis had not been nearly this slippery, and her chambers were much closer to the ground.
Cleo heard some commotion beyond the door. With no time to think, she crawled through the window and sat on the ledge. The cold air brushed against her bare legs beneath her gown. Blindly, she tried to find a foothold. She searched with the toe of her slipper until finally she found one.
Narrow, so narrow. And so icy.
She said a silent prayer to the goddess she’d long since stopped believing in, and finally let go of the sturdy windowsill, now clinging completely to the snow-covered trellis.
“I can do this,” she whispered. “I can do this. I can do this.”
She repeated the phrase with each new foothold she found.
Snow continued to fall, thick and heavy, which only made every movement more treacherous.
One step at a time. One foot lower. Again. And again.
Her heart pounded hard, her fingers began to go numb.
Suddenly, her foot slipped. She scrambled to hold on. A scream caught in her throat as she lost her grip and fell.
She landed, hard on her backside, and, stunned but uninjured, gaped at the side of the castle.
There was no time to rest. She stiffly pushed up to her feet and started moving.
She had to find shelter, a place to rest and hide. And tomorrow, when the sun rose, she would hasten to Ravencrest where she could try to send word to Jonas and Nic.
The sound of dogs barking startled her, and she scrambled to hide behind a pile of firewood. From there she watched two guards and three black dogs emerge from the thick woods. The dogs dragged behind them a sled carrying the carcass of a deer.
“Take the dogs to the kennel and have them fed,” said the taller guard.
His companion nodded and unhooked the dogs’ harnesses from the sled and led them off toward the far side of the castle.
The remaining guard took hold of the reins and continued to drag the sled toward the castle. He looked up at the stormy sky, at the snow falling and coating his cloak, then pulled the bow off his shoulder and threw it down on the ground, along with the quiver of arrows. Then he took a seat on a large log, pulled out a silver flask from his cloak, and took a swig.
“Damn long day,” he muttered.
“It really has been,” Cleo agreed as she swung a piece of firewood at his head.
The guard looked at her with surprise for a single second, before he fell over, unconscious.
She hit him one more time, just to be sure.
Quickly, Cleo removed his cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Then she scanned the area, knowing she needed to go deeper in the forest if she wanted to stay hidden until dawn. Her gaze then fell upon the bow and arrows.
If magic really did exist in this world, then maybe it was possible that her archery skills would emerge when she needed them the most. Even if she hadn’t hit a single target during her lessons.
That’s what happens when you have a coward as a weapons instructor, she thought darkly.