Having counted the black and gray stones so many times, I could recite the numbers in my sleep. I knew every inch of the glimmering surface of the black rocks that seemed haphazardly strewn throughout my room. The way they burned when I touched them.
Even at the age of five, I had known I was different. Living in a tower was not normal. But at least I’d had dreams to keep me company. I had imagined that the male who would marry me would be kind and loving. I’d dreamed countless times about my betrothed and his undying love for me.
I used to have dreams.
But not anymore.
Life had already taught me its most important lesson: dreams were for the weak and powerless. Daring to dream meant watching your hopes shatter into a million tiny pieces on the floor. Dreams only led to one thing: death.
Case in point, my current predicament.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that as the sun rose on the day that was supposed to lead me into matrimonial bliss, I would have been dangling out of a window high above the ground. Nor had I imagined that instead of the traditional wedding dress, I would have been wearing thick black tights and a tunic that stuck to my every curve as I repelled down the tower that had been my home for my entire life.
I would have scoffed if someone had told me I’d trade my wedding jewels for rope, a traveling cloak, two sets of clothes, and throwing knives. The entire idea would have been preposterous.
And yet.
Here I was. Having done all of these things. Thank the gods for a few faithful servants who had been willing to help me. I hated they took pity on me—being known as the king’s pet was bad enough without adding pity to the mix—but I couldn’t deny that their aid was instrumental in my escape.
Suffice it to say, my wedding wasnotgoing the way that five-year-old me had planned.
My fingers stung, signaling that I needed to continue my perilous descent. Taking a deep breath, I begged my stomach to remain calm as my eyes dipped towards the ground. It was maybe thirty feet below now, but the smooth stone of my tower would not make for an easy descent. Glancing up, I stared at the open window.
Biting my lip, I forced myself to decide. If I went up, I would have been as good as sentencing myself to a very long, very miserable life.
Down led to almost certain death.
“Aileana?” a female voice cried out from inside the tower. All the blood drained from my face and my heart pounded in my chest. I could hear the doorknob rattling inside. Before leaving, I had taken the chair and wedged it up against the knob, but I knew it wouldn’t hold them for long.
Shit.
The servant continued, “Aileana, this isn’t the time for one of your games. Open up!”
Pressing myself against the tower, I looked down. Counting to ten, I made up my mind. Certain death was the better option. At least then I had a chance, no matter how small, to be free. To live.
If I went up, I would never taste freedom.
I slipped down the rope, but it wasn’t fast enough. Every second felt like an hour as I inched downwards. Soon, the pounding on the door from the room above intensified, and I knew I had to move faster.
Inhaling deeply, I let my grip on the rope loosen. Instead of sliding down at a manageable speed, I flew down the rope. My hands felt like they were on fire, and I knew without looking that they would be red and burned by the time I made it to the bottom. They’d heal, of course, but I was going to be in a world of pain until that happened.
But better pain than marriage tohim.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed past the agony in my hands. The ground grew closer by the second, and before I knew it, branches were cracking under my feet as I landed in a crouch.
The breath blew out of me in awhooshas I yanked on the rope as hard as I could. For a long, painful moment, nothing happened. The rope dangled in my hands, tense and unmoving.
No.
I knew I only had seconds before they noticed me. Not willing to give up, I drew in a sharp breath and tugged as hard as I could. Yanking on the rope with all my might, I jumped up and used every ounce of my weight against it.
A moment passed, then two, as the cord grew taunt before a loud snapping sound came from above.
Biting my lip, I swallowed the cheer that was rising in my throat. My heart raced as I flattened myself against the tower. Seconds later, a carved piece of wood the length of my chest rushed through the air before landing with athudnear me.
I took a step closer, noting the way my knots had held. The rope was still firmly tied around the middle of what had been a bedpost. A smirk rose within me at the sight, but I quickly tamped it down.
This was not the time for laughter or frivolousness. I was far from freedom.