Page 13 of Ravenrose

An alliance with Skye might be a threat to the Salt crown, but for good reason.

And I’m the key. If my hand can buy Sitara an army, another year of peace, another thousand lives spared, then perhaps it's a price I can bear.

“When is the wedding?” I ask.

Chapter 6

ROWAN

The soft leather soles of my hunting boots barely make a sound as I creep across the deserted hall floor, careful to keep my steps light and my movements quick. If I get caught, I’ll have more than a few marks to add to my collection of scars across the backs of my legs, courtesy of my father and Alita—and countless governesses before her. The marks are well hidden by the long gowns I’m forced to wear.

Oh, she just couldn’t wait to punish me for “that little stunt” I’d pulled in the throne room last night. She waited until after I left dinner—and the protection of my brothers—before she pounced.

In the end, I got that lesson in posture after all.

I can see why my father handpicked her.

Hours upon hours spent standing perfectly still, spine straight as a spear, my skirts lifted above my knees. If I so much as swayed, Alita’s thin, reedy switch would crack against the backs of my legs without hesitation, leaving angry welts that split open and bleed. She calls them posture lessons. I call it torture. The thin silver scars scattered across my skin are proof enough.

My jaw still aches from gritting my teeth. The night had been nothing short of an endless battle of wills. I was determined not to break, while Alita refused to release me until I did. She wanted tears. She wanted me contrite—apologetic. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she felt the punishment was severe enough to make up for the embarrassment I had caused her.

But I haven’t cried in years, and I’m not about to start now.

There’s no one to go to. My father would have easily doled out the punishment himself, if he were here. A princess has to be in control of herself; she cannot be impulsive, emotional, or reckless.

My brothers would stand up for me—just like they have in the past. But like the cut still marring Riven’s cheek, my father would make them pay. And they would get it far worse. A reminder to everyone of what would happen when someone challenged him.

So I stay silent, bite my tongue, and take the punishments, because what’s a few new marks anyway?

It could be worse.

I clear the hall without incident, hesitating when I reach the concealed entrance to the servants’ passage, listening carefully to ensure the dark and narrow passage within the stone walls is indeed empty.

At this time of night, most of the servants should already be in bed. However, with the lords’ dinner being held in Fel’s honor tonight, many of the servants have been pulled from their regular duties to help in the ballroom and kitchens. Both on the other side of the castle, thankfully.

The passage is quiet; I take a deep breath before following the dark space, mostly from memory, my fingers tracing the rough stone walls. I forgot to bring a lantern with me into the tight, windowless space, and the darkness has my heart in my throat. I slow my steps when I reach the west hall and poke my head out, having to take my chances in the main corridor in order to reach the unassuming wooden door at the end.

With no excuse to be in this part of the castle, I skirt across the hall quickly, reaching the door undetected.

I attempt to haul it open, but the door doesn’t budge. I try again—but after a few more minutes of me attempting to tug the heavy thing open, I frown. It must be latched from the inside.

With one nervous glance back down the open hall, I reach for the knife I keep sheathed along my upper thigh, hidden in my skirts, a gift from my brother on my last birthday. It’s beautiful, more of a work of art than a weapon. Intricate, rune-like markings are etched into the steel, running hilt to tip. I don’t know what they mean—if they mean anything at all. But they catch the light whenever I turn it in my hand.

I’m meant to be in my rooms, reflecting on my actions from last night. And I was reflecting alright, right into the darkest parts of Rosecliff.

Taking my knife, I shimmy it up and through the narrow crack in the door, deftly applying just enough pressure to pop the latch on the other side. The door swings open with a tortuously loud whine.

Grinning in triumph, I quickly steal inside, latching the door again behind me.

Growing up in Rosecliff may have been boring, for how secluded it is, but the castle itself is home to dozens upon dozens of secret passageways and tunnels. My brothers and I know almost all of them by heart.

But not this one. Although it is just another one of the many hidden corridors and staircases the castle possesses, this particular passage has always been off limits. And I find myself alone, with only my thoughts to keep me company as I descend the dark, winding staircase underground.

Marriage.

I knew it was coming.

So why has it caught me so off guard?