by Wendy Wang
“I think that’s a great idea.” She grinned and reached for his hand. He gave her fingers a squeeze and brought her palm to his lips.
“Good. We’ll go in the morning, then,” he said.
“In the morning,” she said, her stomach turning over. She had not left the mansion since Trygg had taken her to the square the day she had arrived. “I don’t want to go near the square though,” she said. A pang of sorrow filled her chest for all those people still rotting away.
“No square,” he said, his face solemn. “I promise.”
******
The bustle of the street electrified her senses. People were not curbing their thoughts the way they were the last time she’d come to town. Instead, the energy of their day-to-day lives floated freely through the streets, but still something dark and cold hummed underneath. Fear. It left a metallic taste on her tongue and a prickle across her skin.
Once they got a few blocks away from the mansion, Trygg took her hand and insulated her with his calm. It still amazed her, as the rest of the world became as silent as Trygg’s mind. Her skin no longer prickled and the taste in her mouth dissipated. He led her down a side street and made a few turns before leading her into a building.
Mold stung her nostrils, and the stench of urine burned her eyes. Their boots echoed on the stairs all the way to the top floor. He opened the door at the end of the hall and it led to a roof-top garden.
Small fruit trees in large planters lined the edge of the roof and her feet sank into freshly mowed sod. Vegetables filled several large wooden planters, their vines heavy with fruit ready to be picked.
A tall, gangly woman with a scarf wrapped around her hair ordered two men around. She pointed to a mound of dirt and told them to get shovels and move it into a few newly built planters.
“Callan,” Trygg called. The woman turned towards his soft voice, her round moon face lighting up when she recognized him.
“Weller,” she said opening her arms. “I was afraid I might not see you again.” He grinned and walked into her embrace. Softly, she said, “I’m glad to see you made it back in one piece.”
“I’ve been back for a while,” he said, stepping out of her arms. “I have a new assignment.” He reached for Eryn, pulling her forward. “Callan, this is Eryn Hill. Declan’s cousin.”
“Trygg,” Callan said, her eyes scraping over Eryn’s body. Her expression transformed from curiosity to suspicion in a matter of seconds.
“It’s all right, Callan,” Trygg said. “Chief’s orders are to get her out.”
“The chief?” Callan asked.
“Yes,” Trygg stood his ground, his pale eyes intense.
Callan nodded. “How can I help?”
“I need to find passage for her out of the realm and possibly passage for a child, as well,” Trygg said.
“Passage for her will be hard enough, but with a child? That will be almost impossible.” Callan’s stare bore into her and Eryn felt the woman trying to poke her way into her mind. A shadow of frustration wrinkled the woman’s brow when she failed. “Who is the child?”
“Y’Ana Fein,” Eryn said.
“Y’Ana Fein,” Callan scoffed. “Have you both lost your minds?”
“The circumstances are dire. She is in grave danger.” Eryn balled her hands into fists.
“No disrespect, Miss Hill, but circumstances for everyone are dire these days.”
“So you won’t help us?” Trygg asked, his face solemn.
Callan folded her arms across her small breasts and sighed. “Let me talk to Tru and see what he says. It’s the best I can do for now.”
“Thank you.” Trygg smiled and his shoulders relaxed. “We should go. They’ll be expecting us back soon.”
“Take care.” Callan put her hand on Trygg’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ll let you know what Tru decides.”
Trygg nodded and took Eryn’s hand. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
“Be careful with your thoughts, Miss Hill,” Callan warned. “You protect more than just yourself now.”
Eryn almost told her about Peter’s weaknesses. How his ability to read didn’t go very deep. But something stopped her. As much as she wanted to get away from Peter and Harbee, as much is the things he had done disgusted her and horrified her, some part of her still felt loyalty to him. How could that be? He had killed all those people in the square, would have killed her had she not sworn her allegiance to him. She should hate him. But she didn’t. The bonds of family were very strange, indeed.
“I always am,” Eryn assured her.
******
Trygg wanted them to be seen in the marketplace in case word got back to Peter, so they walked the main thoroughfare, peering in stalls. He watched intently as she brushed her hand over fabrics, stopped to smell bouquets of flowers and was tempted by fresh-baked pastries coated in cinnamon and honey. Her hand cupped the small pouch fastened to the belt around her waist, and the gold droxies Peter had given before she left jingled. Payment for services rendered, he’d called it. Her stomach knotted when she thought about what it really was.
In one of the jewelry stalls, she touched a pretty, braided bangle with a green stone set in a bezel.
“Would you like to try it?” Trygg asked, taking it from the display. Eryn chewed on her bottom lip and held her wrist out. Trygg slipped it over her tiny hand and wrist without any trouble.
“It looks great on you.” He grinned.
“No,” she protested, but couldn’t stop from admiring it. She held her arm up and turned it to and fro, watching the stone glitter in the light.
“It looks beautiful on you, my dear,” the merchant said, approaching them. He was tall and bearded, like her father. A cold pang filled her chest and she twisted the bangle from her wrist. “It’s pure gold, forged by an expert Metal Kael in Tamarik.”
Her thumb brushed over the delicate braid of burnished gold. If she spent her coins on it, would that make her even more indebted to Peter?
“How much?” Trygg asked.
“No, it’s too much, no matter what it cost,” she protested, placing it back onto the display arm.
“And I would pay double just for the feelings you have about it,” he whispered into her ear. Her cheeks heated. “How much?”
“For a guardsman such as yourself, one hundred droxies,” the merchant said.
“That is highway robbery,” Trygg said. “Fifty droxies.”
“Eighty droxies and that is my last offer,” The merchant said.
“My final offer — sixty-five droxies,” Trygg said, pushing one last time. The merchant scrubbed his chin, glanced down at Eryn and smiled.
“Sixty-five droxies it is. But only because of your beautiful girl.” The merchant winked at her. Trygg pulled a leather pouch from his pocket and counted out the coins. The merchant’s lips moved with the drop of each piece of gold into his palm and his face broke into a grin with the final clink.
“You will never regret making your young lady so happy.” The merchant grinned wider, his yellow teeth showing.
Trygg took the bracelet and slipped it over her wrist. “No, I definitely won’t regret it.”
“It is so beautiful,” Eryn said. She wanted to reach up and kiss him but someone might see it. She met his eyes and whispered, “I promise I will thank you properly for it later.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait.”
Nine
“Hello?” Eryn called into Harbee’s studio. No answer. Eryn stepped inside with Y’Ana at her side.
Trygg and almost all the guardsmen at the mansion had been called into a meeting this morning and he had asked her not to leave the house without him. And she would have stayed put, if Harbee hadn’t sent for the girl.
“Harbee?” Still no answer.
A large bank of windows looked out onto the portico and into the gardens. The other three walls were covered in large, life-like paintings. Most were of landscapes. Eryn strolled the length of the white-washed
walls, her eyes examining each painting. They were of places she’d never been to, had never even seen in a book: A red desert, a serene mountain valley, a vast meadow full of wildflowers. The only place she recognized was that of the first queen’s castle in Tamarik.
A painting of a beach hung on the back wall. Eryn closed her eyes, and could almost hear the waves crashing. A briny scent tickled her nose. Y’Ana clung to her hand, whining a little bit as Eryn moved closer to the beach painting. When she got within a couple of feet of it, Y’Ana began to tug on her hand and arm.
“It’s all right, Y’Ana, it’s just a painting,” Eryn said. Y’Ana’s face turned red and she shook her head no. “It’s not just the painting?”
Y’Ana shook her head no again. What did that mean? It’s not a painting? It certainly looked like a painting. Eryn drew closer. A few inches from the canvas, a warm saltiness coated her tongue and a breeze washed gently against her skin. How could this be? There were no oceans in Ethavia. A few lakes, but none smelling and tasting of salt. Eryn raised her hand and her fingertips tingled, the closer she drew to the paints. She had traveled by lightning twice in her life and both times left her skin buzzing like this painting. The discomfort of it should have pushed her away, and yet she skimmed her hand nearer. It was as if the canvas wanted her to touch it.
“No,” Y’Ana cried. “No!”
Eryn yanked her fingers back and shook her head. What had just happened?
“It’s okay, Y’Ana. I’m sorry I scared you.” Kneeling next to the girl, she hugged the child close, her fingers still jittery from being so near the painting. “It looks like your mama’s not here. You want to go back to the house?” Y’Ana nodded and Eryn took her hand, heading towards the door.
“What are you doing here?” Harbee asked, her voice sharp and accusing. Eryn’s heart jumped into her throat.
“Harbee? Where did you come from?” Eryn clutched at her chest and turned to find Harbee glaring at her.
“It doesn’t matter where I came from. What are you doing in my studio?”
“You sent for us. Don’t you remember?” Eryn said cautiously. Harbee’s thoughts showed her on a beach, picking up handfuls of sand and letting it flow through her fingers. How had Harbee gotten to a beach?
“Yes. I—” Harbee frowned. “I suppose I did.”
“It’s been several days since Y’Ana’s seen you,” Eryn offered.
Harbee bristled and straightened her back. “I’ve been busy.”
“Of course you have,” Eryn said. “You know, perhaps we should talk about this animosity between us. I’d like for us to be friends for Y’Ana’s sake.”
Harbee narrowed her eyes, examining Eryn like she would a spider on the wall. “I’m her mother.”
“I…I know that —” Eryn stammered. “And I’m not trying to take your place.”
“No one can take my place,” Harbee said. Her fingertips glowed red, sparking with fire.
“Of course not.” Eryn swallowed hard.
“I don’t know why she likes you better.” Harbee folded her hand into a fist and then flexed her fingers. The flame on her fingertips grew longer.
“She duh-doesn’t like me better. I think I just don’t scare her.” Eryn’s voice lowered on the last few words and she stared past Harbee’s shoulder, not wanting to look into the woman’s hateful face.
“I do not scare my child!” Harbee’s voice crescendoed.
“Harbee,” Eryn said softly. “You do. She’s terrified of you. You don’t want that, do you?”
“Of course not.” Harbee began to hit her head with her fist. “It’s just sometimes —”
Eryn instinctively pulled the girl behind her and started to back away towards the door. “It’s all right, Harbee. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re feeling better.”
Harbee stopped mid-hit and looked up at Eryn, her dark blue eyes wide. “I feel fine!”
“Of course you do, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said that.” Eryn glanced towards the door. Three feet away. She could scoop Y’Ana into her arms and run for the mansion. Harbee’s screech pierced through her head, almost paralyzing her to the spot.
“Run, Y’Ana, run,” Eryn shouted at the girl.
Pain danced across Eryn’s scalp. Was this real or in her mind? When Harbee grabbed her by the hair and jerked her forward, she knew the answer.
“Stop trying to turn my child against me!”
White stars burst through Eryn’s consciousness and her forehead seared. Harbee slammed her to the ground.
“Mama, stop!” Y’Ana cried.
Harbee pinned her to the ground and banged her head into the stone floor. Her head exploded with each thrust to the ground. “She. Is. My. Daughter,” Harbee said over and over again. “You and Peter cannot take her from me. Ever!”
“Mama, stop! Stop!” Y’Ana sounded so far away. Harbee shrieked an unintelligible string of words and climbed off Eryn.
Eryn rolled onto her side, trying to push herself up with her elbow. Her ears rung and her head and neck ached. “Y’Ana,” Eryn croaked, watching Harbee pick up the girl, shake her hard enough to cause her little head to swing back and forth. Harbee screamed in the child’s face — spittle spraying Y’Ana’s cheeks. Then she dropped the girl onto the stone floor in front of a canvas hanging on the wall. The painted image of a barren red desert burned away from the edges, smoke filling the room. Harbee paced back and forth in front of it, hugging her arms around herself, unsure what to do to stop it.
“Harbee!” Peter’s voice rang out. A sense of calm spread over her and the pain in her head dulled. Trygg.
“It’s all right,” Trygg said quietly. “I’m here.” He stroked her cheek. His beautiful pale blue eyes, stared down at her. She tried to call up a smile but her head throbbed.
It’s okay, Eryn. I’m here. His words echoed through her head, but she wasn’t sure if he had actually said it aloud or not. The world blurred behind him and only his eyes remained clear until darkness encroached, pulling her under.
******
Something heavy lay across her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her eyes blinked open and she tried to take in the surroundings. Pale yellow walls, a shelf with a few books and the box her mother had left her. The scent of rosemary, thyme and roses hung in the air. Her room. Why did her head feel so big? So heavy? She glanced down her nose, unable to lift her head. Nestled close to her chin was Y’Ana. Something held her hand in place. She groaned against the weight of the girl. Trygg grunted and sat straight up, and something squeezed her hand tighter. A line marked his cheek where it had rested against the blanket.
“Thank you, sweet goddess,” he breathed. “You’re awake.”
“Can you get her off of me?” Eryn whispered, her throat scratchy.
“Of course.” He rose to his feet, gently pulling the girl into his arms. Y’Ana rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Look, Y’Ana.” He pointed to Eryn. Y’Ana squirmed, holding her hands out. Eryn couldn’t help but smile. “Y’Ana, remember what we talked about? How Eryn is hurt and we need to be careful not to hurt her more?” Y’Ana frowned but nodded her head. “All right, we need to let Eryn rest some more. Understand?”
Y’Ana nodded and Trygg kissed her forehead. It melted Eryn’s heart to watch his tenderness with the child.
“Y’Ana,” Eryn started. Her voice quivered with unexpected tears. “Thank you for trying to save me. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“You remember what happened?” Trygg asked.
“Yes,” Eryn said. “I remember everything.” Trygg sat again. Settling Y’Ana on his lap, he took Eryn’s hand.
“I should’ve skipped the meeting,” he said, tracing his thumb over hers.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Eryn said. “Is she all right? Did Harbee hurt her?” Eryn inspected the girl’s face for bruises.
“She had a nasty cut over her forehead and a broken arm, but Peter brought in a proper healer for her,” Trygg said, bitterness
creeping into his tone. From the ache in her head and soreness of her neck and shoulders, it was clear the healer only saw Y’Ana. “I tried my best to heal you, but—”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “You did a great job.”
He chuckled, holding her hand to his cheek. “Liar.”
“No — really, you did. It could be much worse. I could be dead,” she said. His eyes darkened and he brought her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against it. A wave of anxiety washed through her — but it was not hers. It was his. He was scared for her. “Listen to me,” she started. “I’m going to talk to Peter. And I’m going to insist that Y’Ana have very little contact with her mother.”
“He’ll never accept that,” Trygg said. “I think we should run. Just take her and run.”
“He would hunt us. Is that how you want to live? Constantly moving. Constantly looking over our shoulders.”
His eyebrows tugged together, forming a deep crease between them and he didn’t answer her directly. He kissed the back of her hand again. She pulled her fingers away from his mouth and gently stroked his cheek.
“After what Peter saw, I am sure I can convince him to do the right thing for her,” she said.
“I hope so,” he whispered. “Otherwise, I have no choice but to get you both to safety.”
Eryn’s stomach dropped to her knees. And this time, the fear she felt was her own.
******
Mrs. Gilstrap looked after Y’Ana while Eryn recuperated from her injuries. It took several days for the headache to go away completely and Eryn took her meals in her room, seeing Y’Ana only for a few minutes before tucking her in to bed. Harbee, according to Trygg, had not been at breakfast. Maybe Peter had taken her someplace, someplace where she couldn’t hurt anyone. Eryn hope so, as she made her way down to the breakfast room on the fourth day of her recuperation. Trygg had taken Y’Ana down early to Mrs. Gilstrap, and though Eryn wasn’t feeling quite one hundred percent, she was lonely even if it was just for Peter’s company.
