The Raven Girl

Chapter 22

This was not her. The thing that controlled every movement, ever decision, leading her away from interrogation and into danger was not her; she was surely incapable of the intrepidity necessary to run like she had.

No- Asta was sure that, if left to her own devices, she would have never had the courage to do what she had done, not on her own accord, anyway, not without an incentive. Yet, she knew her reason for leaving was valid, regardless of the consequences branded into her head, their painful mark never fading, the same vibrant scarlet just as intense as it had been on the first day: she could not make another enemy for herself, nor a powerful one at that.

She had been so close to doing this though, her stupid mouth far too willing to hand over information that was not hers to give, and for that she would have to pay tenfold. Sure, by running, she would keep herself free from the hatred of the Dragenes- if she had told of her family's plans to wed her to Reidar, they would have been as hated by the King as perhaps the Ravners were, and the whole, deadly cycle would have begun again, her being the target of them all- but if she had just stopped to think, none of this would have happened.

She could have been safe, more or less. Instead though, she had placed herself in a position she would never have wished upon herself in any circumstance.

All throughout the brief minutes it had taken to leave the stifling kitchens, she had felt distanced from her own self, as if she had been watching over, completely detached from her body, surveying the scene unfold in despair as hasty decisions were made upon an impulse- decisions that she would have to pay for soon enough. This was not something her quiet, cautious self would do. Asta knew that well enough.

Yet she was still running, further and further away from Rickard, in this knowledge; she could not stop, even when reaching out to her legs to cease their movement, begging them to turn around before it was too late. They seemed to have a mind of their own, and Asta, powerless to stop them, was forced to stand by and watch.

What was it that Rickard had said? If she ran away, they would find her and she would be punished in a way that made everything else seem like child's play. But just as this thought entered her mind, it was pushed away, forgotten about almost instantaneously, and she kept running. It was as if her mind were being constantly censored, anything that might place doubt upon her heart and, in turn, upon her limbs, weighing them down like a heavy stone, removed. It would have been frustrating if not for the worried pounding of her heartbeat in her chest.

Seconds later, and the gate with which she would try to make her escape became visible, and her heart grew all the louder. She glanced behind her shoulder, half expecting Rickard to be there, stepping on her dress, but, to her surprise, he was not- the castle courtyards were eerily empty.

Dread poured into Asta's mind, dread without weight, without reason, but dread all the same. Why was he not following her? Surely he would keep his word, as he professed time after time, and if he did not, then he would face the wrath of his brother and the hatred of the kingdom.

Refusing to dwell on this, she pressed on towards her exit, which she found, to her surprise again, had been left unguarded. There must have been some kind of mistake- perhaps the guards had busied themselves with other affairs- but this was a mistake she could use to her advantage. Luck had turned her way, and for once she felt as if the gods were finally on her side.

Shaking her head, she relieved her mind of any doubt that had filtered through the censor like unwanted insects beneath the curtain. It was just a coincidence, and a good one at that.