“The cyanide tablet I ate was your fault, wasn’t it?” Clare winced as she squirmed her foot in the shackle. The skin was scraping raw, but she was getting closer. “Dorran thought he’d made a mistake, but you swapped the bottles.”
“You would have suffered less if you had let the tablets take you. It was a mistake to fight it.”
“So you’re going to kill me now instead. To get Dorran back. That makes no sense. Do you really think this will make him love you?”
“I think that he will need comfort. He will long for someone who will care for him. If he believes he is responsible.” She held up a finger. “He does not know I am here. He saw you dragged away. By the time he finds you, he will be too late to save you. My darlings will have started their feast.”
The chattering was growing louder. The creatures were becoming bolder, their incessant laps around the space bringing them closer to Clare. She had a horrible suspicion she knew what Madeline meant. “Feast?”
“My poor darlings are starving.” She smiled down at them as they grovelled. “I allow them to eat one of their sisters on occasion, but it never ends the hunger. I would know. I feel it too. A pit in my stomach, ravenous, unfillable, no matter how much flesh I consume.”
Clare’s mouth was dry. She hadn’t seen the maid with the hole in her side. The girl had probably been one of the unfortunate meals.
“My son will find us soon,” Madeline murmured. “I left bread crumbs for him to follow. When he is near enough, I will give my pretties the permission they crave, and they will begin to eat. By the time he reaches you, you will be too far gone to save. You will be sure to scream for us, won’t you?”
“They’ll kill him,” Clare said.
“Oh no, they shall not. My darlings hunger, but they know better than to cross me. They understand that he is off-limits.” She adjusted a strand of loose hair, tucking it back into the bun, her smile lifting a fraction. “I will allow him some time. To bury what is left of you. For his grief to break that maddening spirit. And then, once he is ready, I will emerge from the forest. His mother. The only one who cared for him above all others. The one who was willing to sacrifice her brothers and her sisters to correct his rebellious streak. Yes, he will return to me. He will have no choice.”
“Why?” Clare spat anger into her words to hide the pain and fear. Blood trickled over her heel as the sharp edges of the shackle cut into her. “The world is gone. What do you think will happen? You’ll live holed up in this house with Dorran, surrounded by ruin and mindless servants while you wait to die?”
“There is honour in remaining steadfast in the face of the changing world.” The friendliness vanished from her voice. “Our family has ruled here for hundreds of years. And so we will continue. I will not shame my grandmother. I will not be the one to fail the empire that she has built.”
Clare drew ragged breaths. Her foot smarted, sticky blood glistening around the heel, but the shackle was off. She reached her red-tipped fingers into her pocket and found the small knife she’d hidden there. Madeline was turning towards her, the protrusions around her waist twitching with agitation and excitement.
They were both out of time. Clare lunged.
Chapter Thirty-Six
She hit Madeline in the chest, right above the twitching clawlike protrusions. The blade embedded itself, but Clare knew that wouldn’t be enough to hobble her. The pain would be a distraction at best. Instead, she relied on the momentum to throw them both to the floor. It worked. Madeline’s spindly legs fell out from under her, and her malformed eyes widened with shock.
They met the stone floor and rolled. Clare pulled the blade free as she sprang away. She couldn’t win in a fight against the matriarch and her underlings. Her best weapon was the element of surprise and the seconds it would buy her to escape.
While she’d been struggling to get the shackle off, Madeline had been staring at one of the walls. Clare thought she could see the hint of an archway in that direction. She guessed it would lead to the main parts of the house, and it was the path Dorran would be coming from. She ran for it.
The candle had survived the fall, but it didn’t survive Madeline. The wick hissed as she squashed it, and the room fell into pitch-blackness. Clare moved recklessly, one hand reached ahead of herself, the other clasped around the bloody knife. She couldn’t afford to feel her way. She just had to run and pray for the best.
Madeline didn’t make a sound. There were no screamed instructions or commands. But Clare knew the underlings were obeying her somehow. The scraping of nails on stone swelled through the cavern as they gave chase.
Clare hit a stone wall. She gasped as the air was forced out of her. The throbbing headache robbed her of her balance, and she held on to the wall as she stumbled along it, desperately searching for a way out.
A hint of light appeared to her right. It was barely anything, but it was enough to highlight the edge of an archway. Clare reached towards it. Something sharp cut into her thigh, and she screamed.
“Clare!”
Dorran’s voice was distant, but she could hear the terror in it. She had no breath left to answer. She stabbed the knife down and felt it cut into skin. The pressure was released. She lurched forward, out of the fingers’ reach and through the archway. Hot blood ran down her leg. Pain radiated from the cuts with every step, but she closed her mind to it and spent everything moving forward.
Flickering light glistened on the rough walls of the natural tunnel. The passage curved to the right and sloped upwards. Clare set her sights on the warm glow ahead.
Then fingers snagged her dress and dragged her down. She gasped as she fell, and her vision exploded white then black as her head jarred on the floor. She rolled over, gagging as she tried not to throw up. Teeth bit into her leg, then her arm, then her shoulder. She opened her mouth to scream, but the noise caught in her throat.
No. Please. Not like this.
She twisted, threw her elbow back, and felt it hit bone. Pain overwhelmed her, blinded her. Hands pawed at her limbs, squeezing. Then, in an instant, the teeth released their hold.
Bright light arced overhead. Clare squinted her eyes open. Flames hissed and spluttered, a trail of sparks spiralling around her. The hollow ones howled, their eyes bulging as they flinched away. Dorran appeared in the light, his face twisted into a vicious snarl as he planted himself above Clare. He wielded the flames, a burning cloth tied around the end of a wooden pole.
One of the hollow lunged towards him, but Dorran reacted quickly, jabbing the torch forwards to meet it. Guttural shrieks rose, and the stench of burning skin swelled around them. The hollow one lurched away, clawing mindlessly at its face, shredding the scorched flesh. Its companions backed out of Dorran’s reach, swaying. Waves of anxious chattering rolled through them.
Dorran crouched at Clare’s side, not moving his eyes from the monsters. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”
Everything ached, but Clare reached up, hugging him, and his spare arm slipped under her legs. He kept the flame moving, threatening anything that drew too close, as he lifted her and began backing up the passageway.
“It’s your mother.” Clare struggled to speak and breathe at the same time. She needed him to know in case they were separated again, in case the worst happened. “She’s been here the whole time. I don’t know how, but she’s controlling the other monsters.”