by Tara Brown
I snarled and got up. "Fine. But I want extras for the inconvenience." I stormed back up the stairs with my mug of mulled wine. It was delicious. It was warm and made me feel like I was home. I checked the room and opened the old creaky window more than it was. I pulled my cloak from the window and noticed it hadn’t dried much.
"Damp foggy city," I muttered.
The rain was slowing down. The old woman had been right. The rain was going to end. Artan couldn’t stay near me at the inn. I couldn’t fight the urge to put my fingers out into the rain. His warmth was there after a few damp moments. No one on the streets below would be able to see him. I touched his snout and rubbed it. “Hello, friend.”
The knock at the door startled me.
"Who is it?"
"Prince Charming, Your Highness, delivering your food." I almost wondered how he knew, but then I realized the sarcasm in his tone.
I opened the door and pointed to the table, fighting every inclination I had to demand anything.
He looked me up and down and shook his head. "Women in tight breeches and light shirts baring their breasts to the world are not commonplace in the city."
I folded my arms and frowned as my cheeks flared. "Thank you for the fashion advice. But it was your young man who brought me the clothing. Mine were in tatters."
He placed the heaping bowl down and folded his arms too. "My man?"
"The boy with the freckles."
"He's thirteen. You let a thirteen-year-old boy pick your clothes? You're lucky he brought you anything at all. But I will say, his choice in shirts is understandable. It's lovely on you. Really." His eyes lingered there, staring at my chest. “It brings out your eyes.” Only his gaze doesn't reach my eyes.
I sigh as though he were one of my brothers. “You are no gentleman, sir.”
“No, but I never went about claiming I might be. You, however, did sort of claim you were a little boy, didn't you then?” His dark hair and blue eyes weren’t as distracting as the way he towered over me. "You shouldn’t be dressed like that in a pub, or at all."
I tilted my head and spoke confidently, "I can handle myself."
He rolled his eyes and strolled from the room. "Yeah. All women say that."
I put my hands on my hips. "I am not all women, I'm just a regular girl. But when I say I can take care of myself, I mean it." I want to tell him I’m a trained fighter, but boasting isn’t a smart way to defend one’s self.
He leaned on the doorframe, mocking me with his grin. "Little advice, Princess: This is the city, not whatever hovel you crawled out of. Here we do things differently. Men here have opinions about women, and those opinions generally make up the rules since men are in charge here. We have two groups of rules for women: acceptable and unacceptable. Dancing, kissing, drinking with a group, and being fondled are all acceptable activities for women. Breeches, fighting, drinking alone at a table, and being rude are not acceptable. See the difference?"
I slammed the door hard. "I do. City men are stupid.”
“I heard that.” The door between us muffled his voice.
“I don’t care.” I carried the heaping bowl of mutton and bread to the window and sat on the sill, shoveling the hot food into my mouth. When I'd eaten enough, I held it out the window. It was late and my candles were dim. No one could see me, and if they could I didn’t care. I was exhausted still and somehow more lost than I had been when I arrived in the great city.
Chapter Nine
The ship was loading. I could see it from the roof of the church tower. The rain was gone but the clouds hung low. The heavy air smelled of salt and seawater. Artan managed to fly close when the clouds got thick enough. Our saving grace had been the fog and mist that always seemed to be present.
It made me realize I didn't want to live in a port city at all.
He sat on the roof of the tower, hidden mostly by a huge cloud hanging over the city. I narrowed my eyes to watch the ship load. "How do I get on board, Artan?"
He growled.
I looked back. "We have to go there. His family needs to suffer the way mine have. I am a princess and have an obligation to my people. I owe them that at least. I owe my father."
Golden-armored guards and soldiers had been riding into town for a fortnight, making one thing abundantly clear: the Kingdom of Marana had in truth betrayed my father. They had allowed the ships to dock, the men to unload, and sent no warning to my father who had a peace treaty with them. Our border with Marana had never been watched as closely as it should have been. The peace and trade had fooled my father into a false sense of security.
The port city didn't even mind that the ships stayed and the men drank.
I felt useless. I still had no plan.
The ships were huge, but I knew if I were on board I would eventually be seen. One girl and a lot of men seemed like a bad plan. I would either die, killing as many as I could before that last breath, or end up as the entertainment.
Neither end was favorable.
I scanned the city, noting that the people looked like tiny bugs crawling about. Artan crouched low for me, clinging to the building. I sighed and climbed onto his back. I'd warmed to the flying but still wasn’t crazy about it.
He flew me to the ground, a forested area we had been meeting up in, and let me off. I jumped down and walked as he shot back up into the air.
I walked through the city gates and found my way to the inn as I pondered my way onto the boats. Herrick would recognize me, and his men would likely attack me even if he didn’t. I could disguise myself as a man for a small length of time. On a ship with a bunch of men I would eventually be forced to get clean or wet, and then it would be only a matter of time. I only looked like a boy when I had dirt covering my face, my hair tucked up, and was wearing baggy clothes. Not tight breeches and a white shirt.
I walked through the front doors of the inn to find a group of men sitting at a table. They smiled at me but continued on with their animated discussion.
I walked past the pub toward the stairs.
"Millia, how has your day been?"
I smiled at Grayson, the innkeeper’s son who was saying the name I had given him the day before under duress, and nodded. "Uninteresting as usual. What is that?" I glanced back at the table of men.
He shrugged and glanced at the guys at the table. "A man was killed last night by an assassin in a red cloak—a very wealthy man who people have taken notice of. The news has brought forth more news of another such man a fortnight ago who also was said to have been slain. Whores said the man was killed by a boy in a red cloak with swords, but the wife says brown cloak and a robber." His eyes narrowed. “I always believe whores in a situation like this one. I don't know why.”
I cocked an eyebrow, trying not to sound nervous, "Whores and a wife? What sort of man was he?" I needed to be more careful. I had been murdering the evil as practice for my vengeance and to fill my pockets.
“A lucky one I suppose.” Grayson gave me his wicked grin, the one he had used to needle a name from me after two weeks of asking in a hundred different ways.
I put a hand up. "I prefer not to know whatever filthy thing you're about to say."
His grin burst into a laugh, something I was becoming very comfortable with. He was always there. Everywhere I went he was there. The markets, the pubs about town, and the alleys where I thought I might be alone. At first I’d found it alarming, but I came to realize he worried about me.
It was a trait that had endeared him to me over time.
And although his blue eyes sparkled with humor and delight in a way I found enjoyable, he never even made an attempt at mending my broken heart. I had gotten accustomed to his sense of humor, which bordered on wretched at all times, and he had gotten used to my lack of answers for his varying questions and inquisitive mind.
He gave me a smug grin as he walked into the kitchen. “Stay out of trouble.” He said it like he knew all about the trouble I’d been in.
I turned and
walked up to my room.
A voice broke my thoughts as I rounded the corner, "I heard rumors around town about a red cloak and double swords and I was thinking, haven’t I seen that before?" Grayson's stepmother was standing outside my room.
I stared back, trying not to be bold in my answer or defensive. "I don’t know what you're talking about."
Her red lips twisted. "The first day you came here for a room, you had on a red cloak." Her long finger pointed at me accusingly.
I frowned and shook my head. "No. I didn’t. You weren’t here when I checked in; it was Grayson.” I leaned in, pretending we were bosom buddies, something I had never been with anyone. “Anyway, I heard it was a brown cloak and a burly man who has been killing off the husbands of the women he has had relations with."
Her green eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm watching you."
"Enjoy the view." My heart was racing, but I pretended I couldn't care less as I walked to my door and opened it. She stalked away down the narrow hallway.
I would need new clothes and a new place to stay. I would need to recreate myself. The city was big enough to hide in, but I needed help. I stepped in and closed the door. I leaned against the door and thought.
The old woman. I could find the old woman. She had offered me shelter and knew about Artan, and hadn’t come back for me.
I fished my cloak and swords out from under the bed and pulled them on. I opened the door and peeked out to make certain I was alone in the hallway. I closed the door and ran down the hall to the back entrance. The moment I had the back door closed, I whistled.
Fog was drifting lazily through the streets. In the mist, I saw him. I jumped on his back and held on tightly as he rode the breeze. The alley was empty, thankfully. His wings pumped hard and we shot up into the air.
The wind grew cold the higher we went. I felt like I was struggling to breathe as the airstream whipped my face.
He flew, circling the city, looking beautiful in the sunlight above the mist. His scales glimmered in the light, like fire. Like the fire that had shone in his mother's eyes.
"Can you find the old lady? The one who saw you that day and offered us somewhere to stay?" I asked loudly.
He turned around and tucked his wings. The wind increased. I gripped, terrified, to his thick neck. My fingers felt like they were slipping as screams ripped from my throat. Just as I lost my nerve, he let out his wings, instantly stopping the free fall. We floated down onto a dusty road that reminded me of home.
He stepped onto the rocky ground and grunted. He looked around. I climbed off and patted his warm side. "I'll walk from here." My shaky legs threatened to crumble beneath me as I tried to fight the floppy feeling. He caught me, letting me lean against him for a minute.
“Thanks, Artan.” I smiled up into his eyes and the green flames that flickered in them. I remembered his mother's eyes and snuggled into him. I hugged him for a moment. "I love you." He nuzzled his face against mine.
"You came. I knew you would," an old voice spoke softly. I spun around, seeing the old woman from before standing on the road. She turned and motioned for me to follow her away from where I stood. "Come, my dears."
She hobbled down the road but I didn't move. I waited, not sure we’d made the right choice. Artan nudged me forward, forcing me to follow her. When I took a couple of steps in the same direction, Artan jumped into the air and flew high above us. We walked in silence—she ahead of me and not making any sounds or gestures. She just hobbled along as my stomach tied itself in knots.
She limped along until we reached a crossroads and then stepped off the road and limped into the woods. I noticed a hint of a path so I followed her until we reached a tree with large boughs. She stepped into the vast canopy of the tree and vanished. I took a step closer, listening. There was nothing. "Excuse me? Hello? I didn't see where you went." Had I seen it or was my mind playing tricks on me?
A hand reached out of the tree and pulled me into it.
I pulled my swords and shoved the thing that grabbed me. A beautiful girl with long, flowing black hair to her waist and black eyes laughed at me.
I was inside a home, not a fine home but a hovel. It reminded me of Maddox's house. Woodstove and small beds and clutter everywhere. There were windows to outside but no tree or forest. Instead, there was a field and hay. I reached forward, touching the wall with my sword. It was solid, though we had just come through it.
"What is this magic?" I shoved my blades against her long, milky throat.
She chuckled. "You are formidable, Princess. Of that there is no doubt." Her black eyes flashed a sparkle of mischief. "That will serve you well in your purpose."
I stepped back but maintained my stance. "Who are you? Where is the old woman?"
She waved a hand in front of her face and the old hag was suddenly there.
My stomach sank. "You're a witch?" I had heard of them. The mountain witches. Trouble to anyone who accidentally stumbled upon them. I had sort of assumed she was magical in some way, but a true witch I had not expected.
Her black eyes shone as she waved her hands again, and she was young and beautiful once more.
“Witch.” The word left my lips again, though softer and less accusingly than before.
"I am a witch and you are a princess. Of course, you're also a robber and a murderer."
I had been tricked.
Artan had been tricked.
I hoped he was still in the air, believing me to be okay and not worrying about me. He could end up a victim of the witch too if he imagined I was in danger.
"Mani, dearest, where is the oak moss?" a woman spoke from the corner of the small house. She had appeared out of nowhere. She too was stunning. Short and curvy with a sharp smile and glossy brown eyes. She looked at my swords mockingly. "Well, put them away, child. We are short on time and long on preparations. The ball tonight is a must for you. We have much work to do. You have wasted weeks floundering about."
I lowered my swords and shook my badly confused head. "What?"
"Katy, she has no knowledge of us. You speak as though we have all met before. That would be madness." They both giggled and chuckled oddly. It was madness. Something I had to expect from two witches.
Katy slinked across the room and curtsied. "I am but your humble servant, Katy. My magic is yours to wield, Highness."
I frowned and asked again. "What?" None of it made sense.
The one called Mani did the same. "I am Mani. May my magic protect you and lift you to your rightful place."
I shied away. They were clearly crazy. I pinched myself and was disappointed to find I was still fully awake.
I sheathed my swords. I had a bad feeling they would do nothing against the conjurers anyway.
Katy smiled. She was adorable when she smiled. I wanted to trust her. I wanted to hug her. She was soft and motherly in a way my own mother had never been.
"You must, absolutely must, be ready by dusk sharp. Now let me find the oak moss and we will begin."
Mani walked to me and pushed my hair out of my face. "If I had ever had a child, she would have been like you, I think. You are strong in the heart and just in the soul."
I swallowed. "How do you know me? What do you want with me?" I had lowered my swords but my hands gripped them just as tightly as they would if they were lifted.
Mani's eyes lit up. "We want to help you kill your brother and take your rightful place as queen."
“Queen?” I laughed. "Oh my. You are mistaken. I have two brothers that are in the line of succession ahead of me. Besides, I have no desire to be queen." My stomach sank. "Wait, are you prophets? Are my brothers dead?" I could feel the panic hovering and waiting for the chance to strike out. “He had said he meant to keep them alive.”
Mani shrugged. "You are already queen." She seemed content with her strange statement.
"Well, maybe where you two live, here in the tree that isn’t a tree, I am queen—queen of the tree people who live in the nonsensical tre
e." I grinned cheekily and pointed to the wall that we had walked through. "Out there I am a homeless girl. A refugee of my homeland. Nothing more." I sheathed my swords, realizing they were just a couple of crazy old women, witches yes, but old crazy ones.
Katy walked up to me with a sweet smile on her crimson lips. She took my hand in hers and mesmerized me with her soft brown eyes. I felt relaxed and calm and then a sharp stab in my hand. I pulled back. She turned and walked back. "Just needed a bit of blood and flesh, my dear."
I looked down at my bleeding palm and licked the small trickle of blood. "You two are senseless." They laughed, like they were insane, and yet I didn't fear them the way I should. Something kept me there—something made me nearly trust them.
Mani pointed to a wooden stool. "Have a seat, my dear. Rest. Your night will be long enough."
I looked back at the wooden stool and shook my head. "Answers first, witches."
Mani crossed her arms and watched me for a moment before waving her hand and sending me flying back onto the stool.
She walked to me and smiled, like a cat smiling at a trapped bird. "You want revenge?"
I nodded. "I do." I didn’t know how she knew.
She arched an eyebrow. "You want Roland to suffer unimaginable pain and terror?"
I nodded again.
"Then you will do three things. You will listen to us, at all costs and times. Moments will come that will make you doubt us, but you must be strong in your resolve and trust us."
I watched her face. "I don’t know you. It's impossible to trust you," I spoke as if in a trance.
She smiled wickedly. "What choice do you have? What resources do you have? Your brother has murdered your father and detained the rest of your family. The man you loved more than anything in the world is gone away from you. What do you have in this world that is so sacred that you would rather have it than trust us?"
I thought about it and nodded. She was right. I didn't have a single ally in the world who could help me. "I will do as you say, but trust will have to be earned." I had nothing. Nothing but Artan, but he was not part of the agreement to trust them.
