But the relief of knowing she carried on, even without me, staggers me for a moment.
I head back to the hidden door behind the smithy, overwhelmed with nostalgia. It feels as though I just locked this door, bidding the silver within to stay safe over the night of the Blood Moon. I’m half expecting Drew to walk in for our training as I spin the tumblers on the puzzle lock. The code hasn’t changed and the lock comes undone.
I wouldn’t dare to leave a written message. I don’t even think I know how to write enough words to tell Mother all that’s happened. But I can’t leave without putting her worries to rest. I take a small bar of silver and turn it perpendicular to the others, resting it right at the top of the stack.
You must keep the silver tidy, Floriane, Mother would instruct. It is rare. Sacred. We keep it safe. We respect it and pay honor to it at every step of our process.
She hammered those lessons into me, time and again, until the silver was always lined up just so. But once she finds this bar so out of place, she’ll know. It’s a message only she can read behind a door that only I could unlock. “I’m alive, Mother,” I whisper. “I’ll come home as soon as I can.”
I lock up and leave.
“You get what you needed?” Ventos has taken to standing just off the street under a doorway, out of the moonlight.
I nod. “Thank you.”
“I won’t tell Ruvan about this detour.” He pushes away from the wall. “He’ll worry needlessly.”
“Thank you.” He and I share a conspiratorial look. One that feels…respectful. Almost friendly.
We come to a stop before the great fortress. I tilt my head back, admiring its mighty silhouette. I never fully appreciated its beauty. And I never asked enough questions as to how we built such incredible structures and then lost all knowledge of it for our own homes.
Ventos asks the all-important question. “How do we get in?” The thing I’ve been racking my brain over since this course of action was decided.
“The fortress only has one entrance and exit.” I point to the silver-plated door to the left of the heavy portcullis.
“The other side?” He’s scanning the walls even as he asks. He knows just as well as I do that getting over the sheer walls that wrap in Hunter’s Hamlet is next to impossible.
“While, yes, the only access to the outside world from Hunter’s Hamlet is on the other side, it’s even more fortified since hardly anyone ever goes in or out. Less silver, though, likely.” Drew hasn’t told me much about the outside. Then again, beyond wondering about the silver traders, I haven’t asked. No one goes out of Hunter’s Hamlet. People come in, joining the community from time to time. But they only ever have harsh words to say of the outside world—a place where there is hardly ever enough food to go around and the few lord over the many. Even locked in with the vampir, they prefer the hamlet.
I wonder if people will leave once the threat of the vampir has been ended. There are harsh places out there, certainly. Places like Tempost is now. But there also must be places of beauty—like Tempost was in its glory days. Perhaps people will be brave enough to explore, to find those hidden corners of the world. I think I would like to.
“How are we getting in, then?” Ventos asks.
“Only one way.” I stand a little taller. “We’re going to have to walk in.”
“Won’t they question us?”
“The guard changes at midnight. That’s going to be our best chance to avoid too many inquiries.” I glance up at the moon. “Get ready and keep your head down.”
“All right, I’ll follow your lead.”
To my surprise, Ventos does. There’s no further questioning or doubting. As a cloud passes over the moon, there’s movement on the other side of the portcullis. I take our chance.
Hand on my hip and repeating everything Drew ever told me about his life, I yank open the door to the fortress. In the back of my mind, I hear the cautions of the elders of Hunter’s Hamlet—of my mother.
Never try to follow your brother into the fortress, Floriane. He is a hunter now and belongs to a world you are not made for. The punishment for sneaking into the fortress, even for just a look, is death.
