Sea of Starlight (The Riven Kingdoms #2) - Shari L. Tapscott Page 0,25

hall, ignoring the attending nobles as they watch me go.

I end up in my parents’ quarters. Unfortunately, I find Mother asleep, and I’m not about to rouse her.

Quietly shutting the door behind me, I step into the hall. How am I going to pass the time when it seems each minute is longer than the last?

I end up wandering, hoping to dispel the anxious energy that’s worked its way into my muscles. But as I enter a hall near the kitchen wing, I come to an abrupt stop.

A servants’ door that leads to the courtyard potager garden—which is usually secured with a solid bar of iron—stands open. The dark night stretches beyond it, and silver moonlight shines down on the vegetables and herbs we’ve managed to keep alive.

I suck in a gasp as terror runs down my spine, and I’m frozen for several seconds before I gather my wits enough to rush forward and slam the door shut. My heart pounds in my chest, feeling as if it’s trying to escape. Fumbling, I slide the heavy bar closed. The metal screeches, sounding like an alarm in the still hall.

Slowly, I back away from the door.

“We’re safe behind the city walls,” I whisper to myself, my voice trembling.

But it’s no use. Even in the protected city, things manage to crawl over the walls.

They creep and fly and climb.

And they might be in the castle.

Shaking myself out of my stupor, I race down the hall. My hair escapes its pins, but I only swipe it back as tendrils fall around my face.

Ignoring Devin and the other guard, I burst into the dining hall, praying Father is still here. The room is empty.

“Cassia, what in the—” Devin begins.

I turn to him, grasping his arm. “A door to the garden—I found it wide open.”

“Which one?” Devin demands.

The two guards move before I’ve finished telling them. They leave their post and rush toward the kitchen wing, shouting for anyone nearby to come with them.

I watch them go, wringing my hands, letting fear overwhelm me.

“Pull yourself together, Cassia,” I mutter to myself. My hand drifts to my hip, and I realize I left my dagger in my room.

We haven’t had a breach in so long, I’ve gotten careless.

Making myself move, I hurry to my quarters. My key hangs from a long chain around my neck, and I pull it off and slide it into the lock, nervous about entering the empty space alone. That’s foolish, though, since the door was secured.

I step inside, waiting for the chill of a tiraith or the unnatural call of the saelties. But nothing feels amiss.

My dagger rests in a box atop my vanity. I’ve had it for ages, since my twelfth birthday. It was a gift from my parents.

For too many years, I’ve been waiting to receive a new one from someone who wishes to court me. It’s a custom of Draegan, a gift that means more than words. It’s so ingrained in our culture, no one is quite sure where it came from.

Some speculate that the gifted dagger symbolizes care and protection. Other more tongue-in-cheek theories say if a man cares about a woman enough to give her a weapon, he must be serious.

No matter, it’s a confession of love.

Someday, maybe. For now…I have this one.

I run my finger along the copper-laced blade, feeling better with it near. I sheath it at my side and then walk across the room to retrieve my bow. I’ve trained with the dagger but never used it on a dark beast. I have, however, stood atop the battlements with my brothers and shot the monsters with my copper-tipped arrows.

Many, many times.

I feel better with the weight of it in my hand and my quiver resting across my shoulders.

I leave my room, locking the door behind me, and walk down the hall, daring something to find me now.

I don’t know what makes me pause outside the room that houses the passage to Braeton’s quarters, but something tugs at my attention. Slowly, I turn, peering inside.

The passage stands wide open.

Fear trickles down my spine. I closed it last night. More, I shoved crates and barrels and a discarded, ridiculously heavy, rolled rug in front of it.

Something has moved them.

Braeton is on the other side, without a weapon, trapped.

I could go around and tell the guards, but it might be too late.

Nocking my bow, I step into the cool, tight passage. The hair stands on the back of my neck as I creep forward, moving through