Eyes Like The Ocean | A Culled Crown Novella

Chapter 8

A train.

Somewhere between Gazda and Varos.

He encouraged her to try to sleep on the train. The trip was supposed to take hours and it was the middle of the night; but Viera was too nervous to sleep. Still, she curled into Leighton's side and buried her face in his shoulder. They talked quietly, discussing their plan once they reached Varos.

Getting passage through the Suri Gap would be difficult. It was miles through dangerous mountain terrain. Due to the heightened tension between the two countries, there weren't very many trains going through. And while they could make the passage on foot, for the money they had to offer, most guides wouldn't risk getting caught by Erydian border patrols or Vaylish sentries. Leaving Erydia was not permitted without the authority of The Crown or the royal Synod. Getting out would be tricky, much harder than fake cards and buying train tickets had been.

Leighton had spent weeks subtly asking around in Gazda bars and taverns. Supposedly there was a merchant called Hoffman who had dealings with Vayelle and might be willing to help secure passage for runaways. Varos was large and much of it was uncharted or was sectioned off into private homesteads. The southern half of the city housed workhouses and slave camps—places a runaway could expect to end up if caught.

Most of the marketplaces ran along the borders between the Varos and the surrounding cities. Their train would take them through Buford and into Varos, so they would begin their search for Hoffman in the village nearest Demarti Station. If they laid low, the fake names and papers would hopefully grant them enough anonymity to allow them to stay in Varos for a few days while they searched for a guide through the gap.

They would use some of their money to rent a room in one of the nearby inns and Viera would stay there, out of sight, while Leighton went in search of the merchant. She tried to argue against that idea—the thought of being left alone in a strange place did not sit well with her—but Leighton refused any other options.

The plan would be ruined if anyone found out who she was. Her father already knew she'd run and would report it to the city guards. Soon photograph would be everywhere—they couldn't risk it.

After they'd finished that discussion, exhaustion took over. It wasn't exactly tiredness, not in the usual sense. Viera wasn't sleepy, in fact, she felt almost too awake. Instead, this was a bone weariness born from retaining her ability.

She had spent every second since she'd first let her power slip—since she almost killed her father—reeling that dark energy back. It was an arduous task, an internal coiling and binding. She formed herself into impassable prison of flesh and bone.

Still, the poison tried to claw its way out.

You could have the world if you'd only stop sniveling long enough to take it.

Her father was right—perhaps righter than he even knew. Viera could have the world, but it would come at a cost. She understood that her ability would surpass those of many of the other Culling girls. While she never had, she knew that, if she allowed herself, she could kill with less than a blink. There was something in her, a small sliver of darkness, which craved that. She had wanted to do that to her father, to snuff him out just as he had wanted to do to her.

But her mother was right, Viera wasn't sure she could come back from something like that. Wasn't sure she would want to. Not once she gave in—once the power had control and could kill and claim and poison without her white-knuckled restraint.

It was this she thought of as Leighton drifted off to sleep, her head on his shoulder, his cheek leaning against the top of her head. They stayed like that for a long time. But Viera did not sleep, she just continued to tunnel down into that dark power, securing it and chaining it once more.