Page 219 of Fallen Nocturne

“You—” he starts.

The world holds its breath.

Chapter 32 Rhianelle

Over 900 Years Ago in Astefar.

I’m hungry.

My stomach growls, loud and angry. I press my small hands against it to make it stop. But it doesn’t work. The emptiness stays.

I sit on the mossy ground near our little camp, a hollow under a massive oak tree where Blaire and I sleep. This is where we hide from the things that hunt in the dark. We’re safe here.

Nowhere in Astefar is truly safe, but this oak has kept us alive so far.

I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. What’s left of my dress is more holes than fabric. It’s ragged, torn, and stained with mud.

The dress used to be pretty. The white linen has little embroidered flowers on the hem. Lady Deirdre made it for me. She spent hours stitching those tiny blossoms in pale pink thread. I remember watching her work by candlelight while she hummed.

Now my gown is gray-brown.

The hem is gone, torn away on some branch. The sleeves hang in shredded ribbons. Tears run across the bodice where I tried to sew them closed with twisted plant fibers. But my repairs just make it look worse.

I look like a beggar, not a princess. No one would believe I’m the daughter of Reinhart and Rhianelle Wiolant.

Blaire is out right now. She left before dawn, slipping away while I was still asleep. I woke when the warmth beside me was already gone and found a message scratched into the dirt with a stick.

Village. Food. Stay hidden.

Blaire can read only a few words, so she always keeps her messages simple.

Sometimes we trade herbs for food with the people. Well, sometimes. When they don’t look at us with those calculating eyes and try to trap us.

The last time we went together, a woman offered us bread while two men crept around the back of the hut. Blaire saw their shadows beneath the door and pulled me through the window before they could block the way.

We ran until my lungs hurt and the village bells stopped ringing behind us.

I worry about her.

But Blaire is older than me. I think she said she was seven or eight. I can’t remember. I am too hungry. She knows how to be clever and how to run fast when things go wrong.

“Please come back,” I whisper to the empty forest. “Please be safe, Blaire. Please.”

The forest doesn’t answer. Just the sound of crickets singing their endless song.

My stomach growls again. Louder this time.

I need to find food. I can’t just sit here waiting for Blaire to do everything. I push myself to my feet. My legs are skinny with knobby knees poking through the tears in my dress. My arms look the same. All bones and pale skin.

I start walking. Quiet steps like Blight taught me.

I’ve been here long enough to know which berries are safe to eat and which ones will make me sick. I find a patch of wild onions. They’re small and bitter, but edible. I pull up three or four and stuff them in the little pouch I made from a scrap of my old dress.

I wish Rainer would visit again. He came last month, or was it two months ago? I try to remember, but I’ve lost track. Time doesn’t work the same way anymore when every day is just about surviving until the next one.

He brought bread. It was soft, warm, and perfect. We ate so well that day. There was cheese and dried meat. Blaire and I stuffed ourselves until our bellies hurt.

Then my uncle went back to the frontier. And we went back to being hungry. I should have saved some of the food and hidden it somewhere safe for later. I’m so stupid sometimes.