Bloodmark

38: Glass Shards

[first draft; feedback, critique, and comments welcome; please point out any typos] 

I do not run. Rather, I slip into a pink silk nightgown, drag a brush through my hair a final time, and crawl beneath the sheets. Beyond the drawn curtains, the sun crests the mountains, the rays warming everything below. Within these castle walls, though, they extinguish the gas lamps and close the drapes. It is the vampyr's night.

I do not run that night. I should have.

A slicing thunk and an accompanying dip of my pillow rouse me from a fitful sleep. Groggy eyes survey the shadows. Once the initial confusion wears off, I look at the pillow. A shriek fills the room, emptying my lungs, as I scramble off my bed.

An arrow, inches from where my head had been, is embedded in my pillow. I recognize the vanes: it is one of my arrows.

I fumble with a gas lamp. But my hands shake too much, and it shatters on the floor. Surrounded by glass, trembling and crying, Atlas finds me.

He's breathless and illuminated by the flame from his own gas lamp. "Mara, what's wrong? Don't move, you'll step on glass."

As he enters my room from the connecting door, my quivering finger points at the arrow lodged in my pillow. A wail trickles from my lips. All I want is to rush into Atlas's arms and cry into his chest, have him take me away.

"Dear lord," he breathes, hand moving to his mouth.

Several guards burst into my room, probably summoned by my scream and shattering glass. I don't know why it took them so long—or maybe it's only been seconds since I awoke to this nightmare.

"Your Majesty," says a guard, standing at the ready for instruction.

Atlas rounds on her, exploding in anger. "Explain yourselves! How the hell did someone get in? How is it possible they got in and shot an arrow at Mara?"

The guard bows, nose almost to her knees. "Your forgiveness, Your Majesty. We were trading shifts. Someone must have slipped by in those brief moments. It won't happen again."

"Again?" His thunderous roar rattles the windows, and I fear he'll pop a blood vessel. "It will never happen again. If it does, I will personally see to it you are removed from the Court guard. Do I make myself clear?"

The guard remains bowed. "Yes, sir."

Atlas barks at the other guards to help him clear the glass at my feet, while I reel.

Nothing feels real, and it is like I watch myself from above. From the ceiling, I observe as Atlas gathers glass shards in his bare hands and my body trembles inches away from him. My body below only shakes; she does not blink, she barely even breathes.