The Fall Of Snow: Guard Your Heart

34. Thirty-Four

Thirty-Four

Malum Manor

W e make it to Malum Manor ahead of schedule and my stomach flips when I see the long winding road leading up to the property. The same winding road I would run along when waving goodbye to visitors as a child. The same winding road I would glance down waiting for my father to come home after visiting his brother when he was ill. The same winding road I ran from the night I decided to leave and never return.

Yet, here I am.

It looks the same as it had the last time I set foot here. The hedges are immaculate, even for early spring. The stone statues are pristinely polished. Even the lawn is a vibrant green already. I know the orchard will already have delicate petals sprouting from its branches, making the landscape look dreamy with clusters of white blossoms. My nerves have put me on edge, and I can't seem to settle myself. The adrenaline is already pumping for what's to come. If I didn't need the rush of adrenaline to battle for my life, I would be compelled to make myself a calming tonic.

The group starts speaking in shorthand, giving orders, and communicating in a language I don't recognize. Warrior talk. Despite feeling out of place, I'm glad for it. If anyone were to accompany me back to this hellscape, it would be this group. But I do catch when Archer gives the all-clear to move ahead, using his ability to see further than any of us. Half of the team veers left walking the edge of the property while the other half goes right. I breathe in the sweet spring air to calm my nerves, but it gets caught somewhere in my throat. Do I even stand a chance?

We plan to enter through the staff entrance at the back of the manor. It will give us the best leverage and the tree line will conceal us for most of the way. As we walk the property, I try to focus on the steady beat of Huck's heart, counting the thump-thumps with the rhythm of the horse's gait. Anything to keep me sane enough to keep moving forward. Once I lose my grasp on my sanity, it's all over. There's no getting it back. I ignore the thought that I am walking into my own grave and focus on my freedom. On what it will mean if I face my enemy and win.

We make it to the back entrance entirely too fast, and I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears. My head. Everywhere. This is it. This is the end. Come hell or high water, this chase ends tonight.

We dismount our mares and settle them near the trees before continuing on foot. I throw my bow and quiver over my shoulder like I’ve done a thousand times before and walk towards the house I grew up in. Dusk has begun and the sky changes to a bruising of lavender. I'm crouching along the hedges when suddenly I am spun around by Huck, his dark features filling my view. He grabs my shoulders firmly between his palms and his eyes bore into mine.

"I see you, Snow. All of you. You have enraptured my soul." His words are like an oath, like a promise to the heavens and I swallow the lump in my throat. Before I can respond, he grabs my face and kisses me softly, his hands twining in my hair. His mouth claims mine with strength, despite the softness of his lips. Too soon the kiss is over and we continue forward with Huck leading the way. I can't help but feel like that might have been a farewell kiss. A just in case kiss. It makes my muscles weak.

We see Bear and the others on the other side covering more ground, and we meet in the middle, at the staff entrance. There are no guards here for there is typically no need. My mother has only ever staffed a few guards at the front entrance and around the orchard, in case anyone was to try and tarnish our livelihood—our legacy. But it is after hours now, and most have enough self-preservation to not even think of stepping onto my mother's property without a welcome invitation at this time of day.

One by one we creep into the stone hall of the staff entrance, the lanterns lining the walls. Our manor has always been well-lit, but the staff entrance still runs on dim flames. A mouse skitters down the hall as we approach, and I wonder where the cats have gone. Growing up, felines would prowl the exterior of the manor, keeping the mice away. The cats hate apples so they were never any threat to our orchard. I think my mother liked them around the property because they hated humans as much as she did, only seeing them for what they can do for you.

The silence is stifling, and it only adds to my nerves. I wish Bear would make a joke or Coy could tell me a story. Instead, my only comfort is the scent of Huck trailing behind him, that and the fact that I've come fully armed with my magic back.

We make it to the kitchen entrance, and I push to the front of the line. I explained that most of the staff despise my mother and have known me since birth. It is no secret to them what kind of person she is. When they see my face, they will not fight us.

The guards, on the other hand, are another story. They are and always have been loyal to my mother.

I push the heavy wooden door open, remembering how it always got stuck near the frame, and peer inside.

It's just as I remember it. Worn pots and pans lining the wall. Bundled herbs hanging from the racks. Fire burns beneath a large hanging pot, probably with hot water, in case my mother wants tea this evening. But no one is in here, which is strange.

Typically, Chef is usually working on something for the following day or the women are kneading dough. After waiting a beat, I signal to the others to enter. They sneak in like shadows, and if I didn't know any better, I'd be scared. They look lethal. But I know the warriors behind the armor. I know their hearts. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what it'd be like to live here with all of them, what it would be like to fill the rooms with friends.

Before I can give it any more thought, the door to the pantry swings open, and Chef emerges with a sack of flour. Everyone tenses and raises their weapons, ready to defend—everyone except me and Chef. I watch as he finally raises his head and sees the group of warriors surrounding him. Startled, he drops the sack causing a cloud of flour to fill the air.

"Chef, it's okay. It's me. It’s Snow." I place my hand on my chest in earnest. He turns his head to look at me, but his eyes seem to stay on the warriors surrounding the kitchen. As the plume of flour settles, he finally looks at me, eyes bulging with fear.

"Snow?" He wipes the flour from his face, eying me again. "You're back." A small smirk creases his cheek. "What is this?" He gestures towards the armed warriors again.

"I'm back to face my mother at last. I can no longer run from her. Nor do I wish it." I watch him as the words sink in, taking a step forward.

"Snow, no. She will kill you."

"Why do you think I brought all these guys?" I gesture around to them. Before he can protest, I continue.

"Alert the others if you see them. But, Chef, I think it would be best if you left for the evening. I will alert you when you can return safely." I try not to think about the possibility of not being able to alert him if things go awry. A very real possibility.

I shake my head. Enough .

"Come on," I nod to the group and walk through to the dining area, chest out as if that will save me.

It feels strange leading a group of Arion Warriors when I'm . . . well . . . me. But they respect me and trust me enough to follow and that means the world to me.

As suspected, the dining room is empty and dark, being of no use. We slink through like assassins as the manor opens up in different directions. The group already knows the layout of the house, so they are familiar with where the different rooms and halls lead, but now is the time when we split up. Now is the time where we go our separate ways and hope that one of us finds my mother before she finds us.

"Bear, Aspen. You two head that way." Huck points his strung bow to the left.

"Whip, Terran, Coy. Head towards the front entrance."

"You two, you're with me." Archer and I nod in response. Without a word, we break off into our directions, and it suddenly occurs to me that this might be the last time I ever see them all. It may be the last time we're ever together again. Heat floods my face but I don't let the tears come. There is no place for that here. There is no place for my predetermined guilt. So I mind my meddle and look ahead.

We walk in a quiet line of three down the corridor, passing a set of velvet-lined stairs. A slick banister swirls like a snake to the floor. We've just passed the set of doors that open up to the library when a voice from above stops us dead in our tracks .

"You there. Halt!" The voice isn't one I recognize, but one glance up the staircase tells me it's a guard. A new one, by the looks of it. He wears a green and black uniform I'm unfamiliar with and his eyes are . . . strange. Off. He hurries down the hall at an unnatural speed to the opening of the staircase while pulling his weapon. My hand is on an arrow, ready to load.

Huck gives one glance at Archer, and he is off to silence the guard before he can draw any more attention. I watch as Archer takes the stairs by two before Huck nudges me along, leaving Archer to fight the rogue guard. Reluctant to leave him, I look to Huck, but he nods once, assuring me Archer will be fine. The logical part of me knows this, knows that no one trains harder and more vigorously than the Arion Warriors.

Archer has fought in many battles throughout his life. This is not his first. And by the looks of that guard, I wouldn't be surprised if it was his first day by the way he drew his weapon or the lack of confidence that laced his words, but his speed gives me pause and my suspicions may have been correct. My mother has altered her guards' abilities with her power, making this trickier than I wanted. We knew this was a possibility, but I was still hoping that somehow it wouldn't be true.

We near the end of the corridor that leads to a side entrance from a balcony overlooking the orchard. When three dark figures halt at the sight of us through the glass doors, Huck jumps into action, barreling through the doors before I can even pull my weapon and taking the guards by surprise .

I'm momentarily shocked into stillness as I watch Huck battle the three guards with swift efficiency, counteracting every move with his own, predicting each action before they've even begun to execute it. His movements are mesmerizing, so quick and precise—his body never falters. The glass door begins to swing closed as I hear the click of another one open to the right of me. My head swings towards the sound as I see my mother's husband peer through the door of the study. My father's old study.

His eyes are wild with alarm, presumably searching for the commotion, but fixate on me the instant they land on my face. I watch as realization registers, altering his features. A sick smile creeps onto his thin lips.

"Ah, my dear Snow. I knew you'd be back one way or another." I catch his meaning immediately, either whole or just my lifeless heart in a huntsman's hand. He nods towards the balcony. "And it seems you were smart enough not to come alone. Clever, seeing as you are walking right to your own death." His knobby fingers drum against the door frame. I grab the hilt of my dagger daring him to take a step closer.

"I’ve wondered when you would return."

I will my hands not to tremble. Training with Huck taught me many things, but it was always in a controlled environment, a safety net of hypotheticals surrounded our sessions. Never had I been put to the test, in a real situation filled with fear, stress, and death. This isn't the open field of the forest, and this isn't Huck.

"I actually started to worry I wouldn't get the chance to see you again before your mother's claws sunk in." He’s toying with me. This man has never cared for me in the slightest except to watch me from a distance. Anger fuels my veins at his words.

"You're sick." I back away, pulling the dagger from my side.

"Oh, come on sweet Snow. You don't want to hurt me." He steps forward, not at all concerned with the weapon pointed at him.

"On the contrary." I don't finish the thought, I step forward ready to thrust the dagger into him, when he grabs my wrist like a manacle, clamping down. The pain seers through me as I try a defensive move Huck taught me, gritting through the pain and fear. When I move in quick procession, it knocks him off balance, but still, he has his hold on me, gripping tighter as he drags me into the study. Despite my effort, my dagger falls from my grip clattering to the floor and fear tries to settle into my chest. I don't let it.

Instead, I drive my head into his nose, sending him backward into a piece of furniture. Before he can regain his senses, I bend to grab my weapon, but he grabs my wrist again, blood dripping from his nose. He squeezes hard, grinding my bones together and I can feel them bend to his strength. Another moment and the bones will fracture. My hand goes numb as he cuts off the circulation.

Unfortunately, he has the upper hand not only in size but in position. I kneel above my weapon as he towers over me.

"You're a feisty little thing, aren't you? My, how you've grown." My mind fights between panic and anger. Fury and fear. I cannot let him get me to the ground. Once I'm lying down, I'm done for. His weight and size will overpower mine and no amount of training can undo that. I push against him, resisting his power. He drops to a knee.

"And strong." He's mocking me, like I’m some fragile thing and any threat I might pose is a joke to him. This only fuels my fury. I send my elbow to his throat, and he falls back, releasing my wrist. I'm on him in seconds, turning the tables. I send another blow to his face when he swipes for my dagger again. We both go for it at the same moment, but he knocks me off of him in one swift motion, sending me to the floor and seizing my weapon.

I hit the ground hard, feeling my bones smash into the marble tiles. He straddles me as he flips the dagger in his hands. My mind reels to the back of the tavern, to the imprint of the grain poking the back of my neck, to the stench of the dealer's breath on my skin. No.

"Pretty little weapon you got here. Almost as pretty as you." When he brushes his knobby knuckle down my face, I turn and bite down hard. Metallic heat fills my mouth and I gag. He pulls back his hand, grazing the skin along my teeth.

"You little bitch. Let's see how sharp your weapon is against your silken flesh."

The sharp sting of the blade slices down my cheek and I see red. I open my eyes as he pulls the weapon away instead replacing it with his tongue as he licks the dripping blood from my jaw. I will not allow this to be another thing that happens to me. This is not how I go out. Not with this sick fool atop me.

I manage to wiggle my arm out from under his leg and grab him by the throat, cutting off his air supply. His hands go to his neck as he begins to pry my grip away, but in that moment, I summon my magic and send a shock of searing pain through his body, reveling in my newfound power. Pushing him off of me, I leap to my feet and begin kicking him in a frenzy of pain and fury, slamming my foot into his soft spots. He's still holding his throat, but I kick there anyway, crushing his hand against his windpipe.

In all my fury, I don't anticipate his next move. He extends his leg out in front of him, swiping my feet out from under me, and I land hard on my tailbone. Pain shoots up my spine and I am momentarily paralyzed. His head jerks up towards the door as Archer marches in.

Immediately he arcs his sword high, ready to end my mother's husband in one swift swoop. I grab my bloody dagger from the floor, fighting the pain in my spine as I try to get to my feet.

The coward chucks a ceramic vase at Archer from a nearby table and scurries through the hidden door to the dining room before Archer can get to him. He turns to me instead, dropping to a knee.

"Snow. Are you alright?" His words are nearly cut off by the sound of Huck entering the study. Our eyes find one another and tears once again threaten to spill. He comes running towards us and crashes to his knees.

"Snow," he whispers as he takes it all in. The scene, my bloodied cheek, the pain that tightens around my eyes. Blood stains his bottom lip from a cut, and despite my predicament, my fingers twitch to wipe it clean.

"He touched you?" The words are so guttural, that it sounds almost painful for him to get them out. The look in his eyes is one of pure wrath. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My body begins to shake in the aftermath of the fight. At what could have been if Archer hadn't gotten to me in time.

"Where is he?" Huck growls, shaking the walls of the house. Archer points to the hidden door of the study, in the direction the coward skulked off too. Huck's eyes follow Archer's finger before snapping back to mine. He brushes the hair from my face, sticky with blood.

"Stay here," he commands, grabbing my hand and kissing it before going after him.

After a moment, Archer helps me up to a cushioned chair and I realize this is it. There is no going back now. Blood has been shed. Our presence has been known. We go down fighting or we walk out of here together.

"My mother. There are too many guards. She must have known we were coming. She must have prepared." I think of her mirror hidden away in her room and how it must have shown her our arrival, or maybe our discussion of the plan, remembering glimpses of the mirror that I caught over the years growing up when I would spot the rippling reflection in her room. Something set her off. Something informed her of our ambush, and now we must fight against her preparations.

"She's no match for us, Snow." Archer holds my hand gently, his wrinkled eyes tender. "And neither are her spineless guards." I nod as we make our way out of the study and into the dining room.