by Cilla Raven
It’s not as if I want to do what they’ve told me to do, but as hard as I wrack my brain for another solution, I’m still coming up empty of any good ideas.
There’s no way I can just run away from them, obviously, considering what just happened when I tried, but I’m also not in a position to fight them off either. I’m bound with rope, Priya still has my daggers, and even if I wasn’t bound, there are just too many of them for me to have a chance at taking them on directly. I know this now.
The best I can try and do is scream, yell out for help at the top of my lungs and just hope that someone comes to my rescue, but I need to wait for the right time - when we’re around a bunch of people, increasing my chances of someone actually being able to help. Where we are right now, there’s hardly anyone around. I don’t want to waste an opportunity by screaming now, and run the risk of them gagging me or something, so I can’t cry out later.
As the cart begins to move, I bide my time, trying to pay close attention to the way it moves so I can keep up with where we are and what’s coming. It’s not that hard to do at first, as we make the first few turns through the city, but as we keep going straight for a while, and then turn again, I have no idea where we are, if I’m being completely honest with myself, and that realization stings a bit.
My captors are all silent, not speaking at all as we travel, and though it freaks me out that they’re so quiet, a part of me is thankful because it means I can hear what’s going on in the city around me.
Eventually, we come to a stop, and I can almost feel the tension spreading through each of our captors as I hear someone ask, “Name and destination territory.”
Immediately, I know we’re at the gate of the city walls where guards inspect each and every cart coming in and going out for illegal contraband, and I know, now is my only chance. If I let them take me out of the city, I might as well just give up and let them kill me.
I shoot up quickly, throwing the blanket off as I move, locating the guard that’s hovering beside the cart instantly, and cry out, “Help! Please, these…”
I don’t get to finish what I’m saying because Lazlo jumps into the back of the cart with me and slides his hand over my mouth to shut me up. I buck against him and plead with the guard with my eyes as much as I can, but the fae barely even looks at me, focused as he is on sharing a weighted glance with Quinn.
The guard’s big brown wings are held in place at the perfect angle behind him to strike fear into the hearts of any lower-ranking fae. The leather and lace ceremonial regalia he’s wearing is customary and mandatory for one of his haughty position guarding Tavatika’s city gates, but the straps and lace are so tightly fitted, not even the smallest of feathers is allowed to protrude through his armor.
I take in his demeanor, the way he looks at Quinn in the driver’s seat, the way he doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that these fae have a female with brown wings tied up in the back while a teal winged fae holds her down with his hand over her mouth, and the hope I’d had blossoming in my chest dies off entirely.
“You’re free to go. Be safe on your travels,” the guard says as he waves us through the gates without an ounce of remorse, and I start flailing about wildly as the cart drives on, panic tearing through me like lightning through my veins, the fear I feel shooting up to exponential proportions as I fight with everything I have against Lazlo.
We scuffle in the back of the cart, spilling bags of food onto the floor, knocking a crate off the side of the cart, and I even headbutt him in the nose so hard he starts bleeding immediately, but still, he doesn’t give up. I finally get my feet beneath me just as he pulls me back down to where I’m practically sitting in his lap. He wraps his long legs around me, interlocking his feet together in front of me as he sends one strong arm around my shoulders, and pulls my back to his chest, grabbing my forehead with his other hand, tipping my head back, so it sits on his shoulder.
“Oh, little Ghosty,” he practically purrs in my ear as his blood drips down his face to land on my shoulder and runs down my arm, “don’t worry. We’re going to take really good care of you,” before he starts fucking laughing again, and my whole body shakes with the terror I feel.
Eventually, I stop struggling and attempt to relax, hoping Lazlo will let me go if I behave, but no matter how still I am or for how long, when I try to pick my head up off his shoulder, he pushes it back down roughly, intent on making me stay in this position.
He’s even rubbing the hair on my head like one would pet a cute animal, and something about the motion scares me to no end, rather than calming any of my fears like I think he’s trying to do. I don’t think it’d be so bad, and I might actually find comfort in the motion if it weren’t for the freaky little song he keeps humming softly in my ear. It’s an eerie tune, and as I catch my first glimpses of life outside the city walls, I am completely on edge because of it.
Well, I’m on edge because of everything that’s happened so far today, but that song certainly isn’t fucking helping.
Everything seems pretty much the same outside the walls as it does inside, and a part of me wonders why there’s even a separation between the two areas in the first place, but just like so many things in Tavatika, and Arorial as a whole, there’s no real rhyme or reason to much of what exists.
I should’ve been back home at the castle hours ago, bringing in a few animals for the dinner tonight, mingling with a bunch of pompous royals, avoiding my father, and making jokes with Mika about the ridiculousness of it all. Instead, I’m stuck here in this dumbass cart, surrounded by crazy-ass criminals, farther from home than I’ve ever been, with no escape plan to speak of. But as I feel the first little inklings of tears worming their way into the backs of my eyes, I shut that shit down quick.
No way am I going to cry about this.
I got myself into this situation, and dammit, I’m going to get myself out, I don’t care how long it takes. I take a long deep breath in and blow it out, and the motion settles my emotions a little.
Hearing my long exhale, Lazlo whispers in my ear, “That’s right, little Ghosty. Relax. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I try to ignore the psychopath behind me, but I’d be lying if I said those words, and Lazlo’s tight embrace didn’t offer me some form of comfort.
They obviously have some kind of plan for me, I think.
Well, they seem to have plans for The Ghost, and seeing as how they haven’t killed me, and don’t look like they want to hurt me at all, I’m hopeful that whatever their plans are, they’re something I can handle, and that they don’t want me for some other nefarious purpose.
I should try to just go along with whatever they want for now, regardless of what they ultimately want me to do, and see if I can gain their trust enough so they’ll at least take the rope off of my hands. And then, maybe, they’ll take the bindings off of my wings too. Then I could really have a good chance to break away from them.
My thoughts are interrupted as the cart finally comes to a stop, and I look around, trying to get an idea of my new surroundings. Quinn has stopped the cart in front of what looks like an inn of some kind, though the paint is chipped and peeling on the outside, and it seems like it’s seen better days.
Now that I look around me, all the buildings in this area seem worse for wear, and I just know that that kind of thing would never pass unchecked if we were in Tavatika Proper. It’s a requirement that everyone keeps up their outward appearances. This place looks like it hasn’t seen any repairs in years, and my nose scrunches up before I check myself and fix my face.
Of course, they’d be bringing me to the worst parts of town. They’re criminals, I think as I roll my eyes at myself before Lazlo finally releases me and stands us up. But as soon as we’re standing, he threads his arm through mine as if we were lovers heading out on a date, and guides me to the edge of the cart telling me to jump when he does.
We land on the packed dirt road with a thud, and he leads me inside the inn, follow
ing behind Quinn while Priya and Roan trail behind us.
The inside of the inn is no better than the outside. It might even be worse, I think, but I ignore it as Lazlo guides me over to a table, pulls out a stool for me to sit on, pushes me into it, and then sits down in the stool beside me, finally taking his hands off of me for the first time since we left Tavatika Proper.
No one even bats an eye at the ropes I have wrapped around me. As I take in all the fae in the room, I realize everyone is avoiding looking at us, their eyes cast down to the tables they’re sitting at or in the opposite direction entirely. I know these fae I’m with must have a pretty bad reputation for a population of random people to act like this simply because they walked in the door.
It also solidifies the fact that I’m probably not going to be able to ask anyone for help here either.
Quinn walks up and starts talking to the servant behind the bar while Priya and Roan come to join Lazlo and me, sitting in the stools across from us. Their eyes are trained on me, and as beautiful and dangerous-looking as they are, I force myself not to show any weakness under their gazes.
“So, what’s your real name?” Priya asks as she rests her arms on the table in front of her, and for a moment, my mind goes blank.
I decide pretty quickly that keeping my mouth shut has a much better chance of working out in my favor than trying to lie would be, so I don’t say anything, and instead, I stare right back at her in defiance.
Quinn shows up then with five mugs of what looks like ale and dishes them out to everyone before he pulls up a stool and takes a seat at the head of the table next to me. We all reach for our drinks, myself included, and as the bitter liquid pours down my throat, I realize just how thirsty I’d been, and nearly down the whole mug-full in one go before I finally take a breath and set the mug back down.
“I asked you a question, Ghost,” Priya says, her voice dark and low, causing everyone at the table to look at me while I stare back at her.
I have a feeling that more violence is in my future if I don’t say something, and that’s not the kind of response I want to have from any of them right now, especially if my goal is to get them to trust me enough to take these damn ropes off.
Sighing, I level Priya with a glare to match her own as I say, “My name is Mika... Mika Foxmist.” I know I just blended the names of my two closest friends, but right now, it’s the best I can come up with and is definitely something I can remember later if I need to.
“Foxmist is a trader’s surname. How do you have it if you’re a guard?” Priya asks, showing me she’s certainly got the brains of a scribe or historian like her dark blue wings should’ve already clued me in on, but I just shrug at her as I pick up my drink, pouring the last of it down my throat in hopes that she leaves the topic alone.
“I don’t care what her real name is. She’s Ghosty, and that’s all that matters,” Lazlo says in an almost reverent way that garners no arguments from Priya, pulling a smile to my face unexpectedly. Priya blows air out of her nose at me before she glances around the room with a disinterested look on her face, and Quinn speaks up.
He puts his drink down and looks me right in my eyes as he says, “Lazlo is right. I don’t care what your real name is either, I know you’re The Ghost. What I don’t know is why?”
That throws me off because he could mean a few different things with such a generalized question.
If he’s asking why I hunt down the criminals that have fled custody in the first place, then my answer is one that I know the answer to through and through, though, I’ve never had to say it out loud to anyone other than Uncle.
I hunt bounties because my mother was murdered, and I want revenge on the fae that did it. I hunt them because it was what my uncle did for a living, and to protect me, he taught me everything he knew. I hunt bounties because the money and gems I earn can be given out to the Tava who need it… there are countless answers to that version of his question, and no matter the reason, it’s not like I can just tell him what they are without giving myself away as the princess.
If he’s asking why I seek to defend Tavatika in general, the answer should be obvious: the Tava deserve to live happy lives without the threat to their safety and welfare that having a bunch of criminals brings.
“Not that it's any of your business, but what do you mean, ‘why’? Why what?” I finally ask.
Quinn turns on his stool to look more directly at me. “Why do you only collect bounties inside Tavatika Proper?”
Well, that question throws me too.
How the fae do I answer that, huh? Should I even try to answer it? If I don’t, they might not begin to trust me enough to take this rope off, much less tell me what their plans are for me. Fuck, I think before words just start flowing through my mouth.
“At least I’m affecting change. I chose that part of Arorial, and I do what I can, where I can, to help the people that live there. Why? Do you have a problem with what I’ve been doing?”
Quinn shakes his head as his eyebrows raise. “No, quite the opposite, in fact. I’m just wondering what your motives are. I mean, your reputation precedes you, and I respect your skills and the job you’re doing, but what I don’t understand is why you only protect the high-ranking fae that live there, instead of the majority of people who live outside the walls. Don’t you think they need more help than the people inside do?”
My breath catches in my throat as he calls me out. If there’s anyone who’s against the dumbass hierarchy of Tavatika, it’s me, but I can see how he’d think that I’m only protecting the high fae, seeing as how I haven’t been able to go outside the walls. The last thing I want to be thought of is being seen as someone who only values the higher ranks of fae, but it takes me a second to come up with a justifiable lie to cover my tracks, and by the look on Quinn’s face, I get the distinct impression he knows I’m thinking over my words carefully.
“First of all, I don’t have to justify my motives to anyone, much less, you,” I say with a bit of an attitude. “But, if you must know, it’s because I am only one fae. I stay where I know I can make a difference, bringing in rebellious and criminal fae like you. I honestly don’t know why my motives matter to you in the first place. You're a bad fae, and I capture bad fae, end of story.”
My mind is still running through the words he said, and with barely giving him a chance to say anything, I ask, “And what do you mean you respect my skills and the job I’m doing. You’re criminals. We’re enemies. How could you respect me when I’m, quite literally, out to get you?”
Quinn’s mouth turns up in a smile at my words, confusing me even further before he says, “I don’t think you fully understand what we do… or what the rebellion does, for that matter. Yes, we’re criminals, but only because there are unjust laws in place that make us such.” He chuckles to himself for a second. “I think we actually have more in common than you know.”
Well, I just can’t wait to hear this, I think sarcastically. “Oh, really? How so?”
“For starters, I think we want the same things,” he says as a servant drops off plates of food before each of us. “Thank you,” he says to the servant before turning back to me. “I know this based on the bounties you’ve caught over the last year or so.”
What? How does he know what criminals I’ve captured? I wonder as my eyes widen, and I completely ignore the food in front of me while I look at him.
“Like that guy that had been raping all those women. Laz, what was his name?”
“Yennen Foltrull,” Lazlo says with a mouth full of chicken, his elbows resting firmly on the table.
“Or all those fae that were in that child abduction scheme,” Priya throws in, raising her eyebrows at me as she talks. “Those were some really evil fae there.”
“Hold on,” I say as I lift my bound hands in the air before me. “How do you even know about all those bounties?”
Quinn has the decency to look at least a little guilty as he says, “We’ve been resear
ching The Ghost for a while, planning out how we’d get you to come out of the shadows, and learning about who you were hunting helped us figure that out.”
Ding, ding, ding! That’s what I really want to know, I think. “Right, okay, and why exactly did you want me to ‘come out of the shadows’ to begin with, huh?”
Quinn swallows the bite of food that’s in his mouth before he answers. Placing his arm on the table between us and leaning toward me some, he says, “Well, to be perfectly honest, we were paid by the rebellion to capture The Ghost and return him… well, her, to the rebellion because the leaders want you to join forces with them. But really, after all we’ve heard about you, and after everything we learned while we were researching you, we thought we might just try to get you to join up with us instead.”
“Instead?” I ask, completely flabbergasted. “What in fae would make you think I’d join up with you or the rebellion?” A sudden thought hits me, and I ask, “I thought you all were a part of the rebellion. What the fae is going on here?”
Lazlo must have heard the anxiousness and confusion in my voice because he reaches out to me and attempts to start patting my head again, but I push myself to stand up, backing away from his touch as a hiss escapes my throat, and I knock my stool over in the process.
Immediately, Quinn stands up and grabs me by the arm, I’m assuming, so I won’t run away. His big hand encircles my entire bicep, and he’s holding me tight enough to cut off the circulation in my arm. It hurts, and I look up at him in warning, letting all my hate and anger at this entire situation flood into the way I gaze at him.
With his other hand, he leans down and picks up the stool I knocked over, plopping it down with a thud that makes everyone who wasn’t already staring at us, turn to see what’s going on. It’s embarrassing as fuck, being manhandled by this big brutish fae man when there’s nothing I can do to fight back or get out of his grasp, and heat floods my cheeks as I stare at him.
“Sit down,” Quinn says in a tone that makes me want to slap him, but I don’t even get a chance to say anything back to him before he slams me down onto the stool and retakes his seat next to me. “There will be no more of that,” he continues as he finally lets go of my arm, but his eyes linger on me for a few seconds as if he doesn’t expect me to follow his command.
