37.

There's a beat of silence before either of us moves. My eyes dart to the window. I can only see the tips of the trees which means we're on the top floor of the castle. A window escape is a possible death sentence. Malik inches forward. I step back, bumping the bedside table and rattling the glass vase atop it. There's a bed between me and the door, and three flights of stairs keeping me from getting outside. But it doesn't matter, it's my only option.

I look back at Malik, he's watching me closely, poised forward in a way that means he's ready for me to strike.

"Milena—"

I grip the vase of water, swing it around, and throw it at him. Before he can say anything, I leap over the bed and sprint into the hall, slamming the door shut behind me as I rush forward, wavering slightly on my feet. Glass shatters in the room.

Feet pound behind me but I don't risk turning to look, swinging around the corner. A woman stands in the way, one of Malik's soldiers. After recovering from the surprise of my presence, she swings an arm at me—I duck just in time.

"Don't hurt her!" Malik shouts from behind.

The woman falters. I take the moment to strike her in the stomach and she doubles over with a gasp, letting me past. I keep sprinting. This level of the castle is unfamiliar to me; a labyrinth of spare rooms once occupied by visitors. But there's only one direction to run. I reach the staircase, my heart sinking in my chest—the staircase leads up. I didn't even know there was another level. Behind me, Malik skids around the corner. I move, fast, but Malik's faster.

I bite my lip when he grabs my wrist, repressing a scream. The last thing I need is for more of his guards to help him. Malik pushes me into the stone wall, the weight of his body holding me still despite my struggles.

"Milena, please."

"Let me go!" His grip is too strong. The only part of my body free to move is my head, and I thrash it around, trying desperately to hit his. He dodges my advances with ease, adjusting his weight so one hand is free to hold my chin. "Let me go!"

He holds me there till my struggling ceases and I'm forced to meet his gaze—those icy blue eyes, tousled midnight hair. His expression softens, his grip on my chin more gentle. I falter. It was easier when I thought he was on Cynthia's side, when I thought he'd completely betrayed us, when I could paint him as an evil villain in my mind. But the way he looks at me, the gentle hold, it only makes it harder. He's stuck in a grey area between good and evil, and it plagues him just as much as it does me.

"Milena..." His voice, no more than a whisper, rattles my chest. It sounds like an apology, but he won't apologise. He can't. "I'm not going to hurt you."

My eyes burn with tears. "It's too late for that now."

Something flashes across his face, like my words have hurt him, and his grip loosens. I take the moment to break his hold, bringing my arms up and down to his shoulders, my knee between his legs. He doubles over at the contact and I shove him, sending him tumbling down the stairs, before spinning and sprinting up.

The staircase is steep, winding around in a spiral, each step adding to the sinking feeling in my stomach. I'm going to run out of places to run. At the top of the staircase, I reach a wooden door. My breath is ragged as I fumble with the latch, shoving the door open and jamming it shut behind me. The lock won't stop Malik, but it'll give me time. My vision blurs, head pounding, as I turn around. In the back of my mind, Malik's words repeat. Cynthia brought you to the brink of death. If I'm not careful, I might end up in the same state she left me.

The room is basically empty. A large wardrobe covers the far wall, and a window gives way to the darkening sky outside. There's an old fireplace boarded up with rotting wood, and beside it, a metal fire stoke. Behind me, the door rattles.

In a panic, I grab the fire stoke and swing the wardrobe door open, falling into a thick, coat and pressing myself against the back, just as the door to the room bursts open. I can see him through the small gap between the wardrobe doors. He stands in the doorway, expression desperate as his eyes scan the room, resting on the window. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing. I'm a sitting duck, and there's no way Malik can't hear my hammering heart.

He takes small steps towards the wardrobe. There's no way he could see me, but it feels like he's looking right at me through the small crack.

"Come out, Milena," he says slowly, reaching his hands forward, a sign of surrender. "Just come and talk to me, please."

I grip the fire stoke closer to my chest, hand cramping from how tight I'm holding it. He's only feet away, eyes wide as he places a hand on the wardrobe door knob. Tension coils in my shoulders as I stay dead still, holding the stock up, poised, ready to attack.

"I'm going to open the doors now, okay?" He waits for me to respond. I don't. My heart pounds as the wood creaks. Malik won't kill me, I know that, but would I kill him, could I?

He swings the doors open at the same time I swing the fire stoke. It whacks him across the head, sending him flying across the room and hitting the wall with a thwack. For a few moments, I'm frozen in time, staring at his from slumped on the ground, wondering if he's dead, the room caving in on me.

His hand twitches and the blood returns to my limbs. I grip the fire stoke tighter, swing the door open, and pound down the stairs, my head spinning. I knocked him out. I knocked a shifter out. The euphoria lasts only seconds. I reach the platform of the floor below, and the reality of my situation sticks. I knocked him out, but for who knows how long.

I pad the hallway till I reach the nearest room, pulling the door open quietly and immediately moving to the window, pulling back when I glimpse over the edge. The village is on the other side of the castle, so there are only trees, but the ground seems like miles below, so much so that the trees cluster together and look like small bushes. Shit.

I stare at the door. We're on the highest floor, no doubt there will be soldiers guarding the entire way down. I look back out the window, scanning the side of the castle. The stones are jagged, jutting out to create footholds, and thick vines choke the towers. If it were any lower, I wouldn't hesitate. But the height makes my stomach drop.

A shout from outside the door as it bursts open.

"Help! They're getting—you're not Malik."

"Sorry to disappoint." Before the man can say anything else, I swing the fire stoke again, striking him on the forehead. He stumbles to the ground and I drop the stoke, shuddering as I look away from the still form. I've done more damage with the fire stoke than I have any dagger before.

Voices from outside remind me of the urgency of my situation. I rush to the window, swinging my legs over the sill and digging my nails into the cracks in the stone, squeezing my eyes shut as I search for a foot hold.

"Don't look down, Milena," I murmur. "Don't look down."

My foot lodges on a thick vine; I take a deep breath, then, let go of the window ledge. It takes me a few moments to open my eyes, even longer to move. I force myself to keep my eyes train on the grey stone, the uneven surface, the moss wedged in between crevices—anything to avoid looking down. I begin to climb.

My hair whips around me, an icy wind tickling my spine as I slowly make my way down, gripping vines, stones, anything I can get my body to grip. My muscles ache, arms quivering from holding on, but adrenaline pulses through my veins, keeping me going. Down. Down. Down.

The minutes it takes me to reach the second floor feel like hours. I tactfully avoid the windows, manoeuvring myself to the left. I pause, rest my feet on a particularly strong vine, giving my arms a small rest. I'm nearly there, at the point where Elias and I climbed not so long ago. My nerves ease, but only slightly—a fall from here may not be fatal, but it certainly wouldn't be without serious injuries.

I keep moving, counting each steps to distract myself from the devastating height. Soon, I'm level with the tops of the trees, stretching farther than the eye can see. I take one more step, but place my foot in a nook covered in slimy moss. I slip.

The wind thrashes around me, a screaming sound echoing in the air. I try to gasp for breath but the wind knocks it from my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for impact with the earth. When it comes, it is much less harsh than I expect. I'm winded, my head foggy with disorientation, but aside from an ache in the back of my head, I'm... fine.

That's when I notice the arms around me. My eyes flash open, vision slightly blurry. Silver clouds around me as the arms place me on the ground, laying me flat on my back. Sleek, silver hair, sharp eyes.

"Can you hear me?" She clicks in front of my face. "Milena?"

My head spins and I can't see straight but I throw myself at her, wrapping my arms over her shoulders. She's kneeling but catches me, tightening her grip around me, too. She smells like sweat and pine, but I almost cry with joy, holding her so tight I'm unsure how she could possibly breathe.

"You're okay," I breathe, holding her to me. "You're okay."

The image of Cynthia plunging her knife into Cassia's chest plays on my eyelids, over and over like a bad dream.

Over her shoulder, Eric appears. His shirt is torn down the side, and a trail of dried blood stains his arm. I pull back from Cassia, pushing to my feet. Cassia steadies me when I sway as Eric takes a few steps closer, expression stoic aside from a raised eyebrow.

"Jumping off buildings, Milena? Somehow I'm not surprised."

A strangled laugh escapes my throat. "Shut up."

He scowls, but I pull him to me before he can say anything else, in that moment not caring about anything other than the fact that the both of them are here in front of me, in the flesh. Eric stumbles back a few feet, hesitating before reciprocating my hug. Cassia didn't smell great, but Eric stinks like swamp-water. I can't bring myself to care. After a few moments, I draw away, staring at the both of them. Eric's expression has softened, but only slightly.

"I can't believe you're here right now," I say.

"We can't believe you're here," Eric says, looking to Cassia. "When we saw Elias still chained in the courtyard, we had no idea where you were. Or if you were..." he trails off, staring at the ground.

"What happened?" I ask. "Did you make it to the elders? Did you get back up? Did you—"

"They weren't there," Cassia says.

"What?"

"The elders. They weren't there. They were gone. We came back as fast as we can. We thought we were too late," She explains. "All we could do was try to save Elias, then Eric spotted someone climbing down the castle."

"What happened?" Eric asks. His eyes brush over me. I'm still dressed in the silky clothes someone changed me into. "What happened to you?"

I bite my lip. "I watched you die, Cynthia killed you both in front of me, and Elias too. I... I thought it was real. I wanted to die."

"She hollowed you?" Cassia asks. I nod. "And you survived?"

"I didn't just survive." I swallow, the words caught in my throat. It feels strange to say them out loud when I'm not sure I full believe them myself. But Malik was so confident, the evidence so compelling. "Cynthia's dead."

"What?" They exchange looks. "How?"

"I woke up after she hollowed me and I felt like death. I couldn't move, but Cynthia couldn't either, she was writhing on the ground in pain, like her insides were burning," I explain. "And then Malik stepped over me and stabbed her in the chest. She died."

"How is that possible?" Eric presses.

"The shadow wasn't a knife at all," I say, meeting his eyes. "It-it doesn't make sense to me either but—"

"You're the shadow," Cassia whispers.

Eric shakes his head. "No, no that can't be—"

"You have to believe me, Eric." I grab his shoulders and shake him, force him to look at me. "It's why Malik was with us all along. It's why he made a deal with Cynthia. It's why he betrayed us." He shakes his head, denial flashing through his eyes. "But he doesn't want to just kill the hollowers. He wants to keep them from becoming immortal ever again."

His eyes flash to mine. "He wants to kill Elias."

"And he wants me to do it."

"This doesn't make sense," he says.

"We don't have time for it to make sense," I urge. "We have to get Elias. Now."

Cassia curses, face pale. "He's chained, in the courtyard, heavily guarded, covered in silver. We've been trying to devise a way to get to him, but we can't touch him."But he's heavily guarded, and chained in silver. We can't touch him."

"You can't," I say.

Eric meets my eye. "But you can."

~

DISCUSSION

1. How proud are you of Milena for standing her ground against Malik? Because I feel like a proud parent

2. Where do you think the elders went?

3. What do you think might happen next?