by Devri Walls
Then it was time for Aja. Terric climbed into the driver’s seat and snapped the whip. The horses lunged forward and the heavy wooden cage began to move. Auriella and Tybolt walked on one side while Kelton and Asher walked the other. The villagers were lined all the way down the narrow streets. People hung from windows and stood in door frames.
The crowd roared as they cleared the gates. Years ago the villagers had thrown rotten food at the carriage as it had passed. Now there was no food to throw, so they hurled insults and curses instead. Some held crude drawings of loved ones they’d lost.
The progress was slow, hindered by the crowd pushing into the street. It felt like an eternity before they made it back to the square. The king was waiting for them atop the hanging platform, sitting in a gilded chair that was at odds with the old wood and twisted rope next to him. The wizards were placed on either side of the king’s platform, and then they waited for the people to filter into the square. When it was packed to capacity, King Rowan stood.
“My good people,” Rowan shouted. “It’s been another long year for us. A year devoid of water, of crops, and of the security we so desperately seek. It pains me to see your starving children and know that I am helpless.” Rowan looked contrite as he gazed down at the crowd. “We suffer, and we continue to suffer because of this man.” He flung his finger in the direction of Aja’s cart. The crowd roared its approval. “And now someone is stopping the little rain we might have had. Is it not enough that we were almost destroyed by Aja? Now we are plagued by his brother, Alistair. We’ve brought in many wizards, but it’s not enough.” As if on cue, lightning flashed in the distance. “We must find Alistair!”
The crowd again roared their approval.
“As is custom tonight, we will show these wizards what happens to those who will not reveal to us Alistair’s location. Bring him!”
Tilly strode forward, pulling the wizard who wasn’t really a wizard at all—Sam. His eyes were wide, and his nostrils flared as he desperately searched the crowd. His eyes landed on Tybolt and he lurched towards him, trying to talk though his gag. Tilly kneed him in the back and jerked him to the platform.
Tybolt looked to the ground. There was nothing he could do for him now.
The breeze crept down the neck of Auriella’s cloak and whispered against the bare skin of her back and chest. She had no desire to watch another hanging. She looked everywhere but the platform, ignoring whatever speech King Rowan was giving this year. Terric was still on the seat of the cart, but he wasn’t watching the event either. He was watching her.
Auriella shuddered, her mind returning to the stables—the feel of Terric’s hands on her shoulders, the roughness with which he’d slammed her backwards. It would’ve been terrifying no matter what, but it was all too familiar a scenario, tied to one of the most horrifying moments of her life.
She clenched her fists at her side and breathed deeply through her nose, trying to push those feelings deep into the recesses of her mind where she hid things she didn’t like. But the recesses of her mind were becoming quite full and refused to be silenced.
She was vaguely aware of the cheers of the villagers around her as the trap door beneath the wizard dropped out, but she was more preoccupied with the thoughts that tumbled and pinged against her skull—little unwelcome reminders of her inner weaknesses. After all this time and training, of running from what she’d been, here she stood at the mercy of the king. She slid her hand to her side, feeling the small blade she’d concealed beneath her cloak. The cold steel offered only a small amount of comfort.
“Auriella.” Tybolt’s voice broke through her thoughts, his tone indicating that it wasn’t the first time he’d called her name.
“Hmmm?”
“Would you like to get some dinner?”
The crowd was dispersing. The younger Hunters were taking the wizards back to the Hold but the King was still on his stand, his eyes fixated on her. Terric had vanished. Blood pounded in Auriella’s ears. “No. I can’t…I’m sorry. I…need to get some rest.”
She turned before Tybolt could respond and shouldered her way through the crowds and into an alley between the three-story homes. She pushed back into the shadows, grateful as they swallowed her. The sounds of revelry were everywhere. Laughter and songs floated down the alley and invaded her hideaway. They all sounded so happy.
Auriella leaned back against the wall and blinked, trying to restrain her emotions. The tears came anyway, flowing down her cheeks. She couldn’t be queen. The thought of having Rowan touch her, of sharing his bed as his wife. Death wouldn’t be the worst part—perhaps she would even wish for it when it came. A sob jerked its way free, then another. She bent over, her face in her hands, unable to keep the pain back anymore.
She wished her mother were here. She wished she could talk to her father. But she couldn’t. She’d learned long ago that being a Hunter was a danger to all those you loved. Her father was hidden in the forest, and he would stay that way. She wouldn’t risk his safety for a shoulder to cry on.
Her father had come to the city once and tried to convince her to come home with him. She’d yelled, told him she never wanted to see him again. It was a lie, such a heart-wrenching lie. She could still see the look on his face as he backed away. It was her fault that he was alone without a wife or daughter—all her fault. And now she would protect her father no matter what the cost.
Rowan would use whatever means necessary to keep his wives in line. She’d seen it before, and she would not allow her father to be used as a puppet. Family was a weakness to be exploited.
Auriella calmed her breathing and stood straight, wiping away any proof of her mental breakdown. She’d dealt with everything so far, and she would deal with this. Perhaps a knife in the bedroom on the wedding night—finishing off the cruel king with one slice of her blade. The corner of her mouth twisted into a little smile at that nice thought.
She heard a whimper and then a scream that was cut short. It was close, and Auriella moved slowly out of the ally, listening.
“No, please,” came a female voice. And then she heard a gruff voice she knew very well—Terric.
Auriella ran towards the sound, peeking down each alley as she went. Terric was three alleys down. He had a village girl shoved against the wall, her hands pinned over her head.
“Terric!” she yelled, pulling her dagger as she bolted towards him. “Let her go!”
The look in his eyes was so demonic her heart caught somewhere in her throat. “I’m warning you, Auriella. Turn around and go back the way you came.”
The village girl whimpered and struggled beneath his grasp—she hadn’t a prayer of escaping.
Auriella worried Terric might kill the poor girl before she could stop him. She held her dagger out in front and lowered her center of gravity, ready to spring if necessary. “You couldn’t force your way with me, so you decided to pick on someone smaller? Is that what’s going on here?”
He snarled. “Shut up.”
“Did you run out of willing participants? Surely there are a number of girls who would do whatever you had in mind without raping them.”
Terric released the village girl and spun to face Auriella. The poor girl just stood there like a wounded deer, shaking with wide eyes.
“Get out of here!” Auriella yelled, then dove for Terric.
Terric stepped to the side, deftly avoiding her blade. He brought his hand around and slammed a fist into her back. She stumbled forward. She nearly dropped to her knees but managed to stay on her feet.
She whirled. Terric now had a sick grin painted beneath those demonic eyes. The look was horrifying, but Auriella felt a sense of relief. His victim was nearly out of the ally.
“Why do you have to do everything the hard way?” The next moment he was on her. He grabbed her and slammed her against the wall, ripping the clasp from her cloak so it fell from her shoulders. Auriella struggled against him, but Terric shoved his arm into her windpipe. She gagged and swu
ng forward with her dagger. It bit into flesh.
Terric roared and stepped backwards. He rolled his shoulder, testing for movement where she’d stabbed. “We can make this as rough as you want,” he said. His smile had turned wolfish, and Auriella flashed back to her past. Different face, same look. Child-like terror flowed over her. She fought against it using the only logic she could summon—she’d killed the last one, she could kill this one too.
She held up the dagger, his blood dripping from the tip. “Yes, we can.”
“What are you going to do?” He laughed. “It’s Festival, Auriella. You know how the king disapproves of violence on Festival.”
That was the least of her worries. The punishment for killing a fellow Hunter was death.
Terric leapt straight up with no warning and flipped over her head, landing between her and the exit. “How about we call a truce,” he said coyly. “I won’t tell the king that you stabbed me in the back and…” He trailed off, waggling his eyebrows.
“And what?” she said tightly.
“You and I have a little fun.”
She stepped in closer, rage flooded her body. “I would rather hang from the gallows than have ‘fun’ with you, you sick, disgusting—”
He slapped her so hard it pushed her to the side, slamming her check into the rough brick wall. He grabbed the back of her dress and yanked. It ripped like paper. She jabbed her elbow towards his nose, feeling the crunch of bone and cartilage. Blood splattered over her and ran down his face.
The cold night air rushed over her exposed chest. She stumbled forward, automatically covering herself. Her dress was shredded and hanging nearly to the waist on one side.
Terric charged, letting loose a steam of profanities muddled by the blood running into his mouth.
Auriella ducked and swung to the side, raising the dagger as she did. The blade bit across Terric’s cheek as he rushed past her. The dagger opened a gash from temple to lip, barely missing his eye.
New blood poured across Terric’s cheek and dripped down his neck. He was nearly unrecognizable.
Terric’s fingers went to his face, probing the wound.
What had she done? Rowan would not forgive this. She turned and ran, heading for the stables.
Tybolt stared at Aja’s cart from a distance. It was still on display and the villagers gathered around it, taking turns spitting and cursing at him. Terric had vanished, which was strange. He was supposed to stay with the cart.
Aja ignored everything and everyone. He stood at the bars and stared at Tybolt.
Refusing to look away, Tybolt clenched his fists at his side. He was a Hunter, and no wizard would intimidate him, especially one responsible for the death of his family.
Then Aja gave a little twitch of a smile. Maybe it was the shape of the mouth or the way the eyes laughed along with it, but Tybolt jolted. He knew that smile.
“Hess?” he whispered.
Tilly plopped down next to Tybolt and threw her hair over her shoulder. “I think he likes you,” she mocked, nodding towards Aja.
“I think he likes looking at the misery he’s created.”
She folded her hands demurely in her lap and batted her eyes, which was the exact opposite of her normal demeanor. “Where’s Auriella?”
Her tone was sickly sweet, and Tybolt’s skin crawled. He wanted to shout every obscene thing he could think of at her. “Why are you so concerned with—”
He was cut off as a horse clattered through the square, Auriella on its back. People shouted and dove out of the way. The horse’s flank caught the edge of a cart and upended it.
“Where….” He trailed off. Auriella’s dress was torn and spattered with blood. She was heading for the gate. “Spawn of Aja!” Tybolt took off at a dead run towards the stables.
Auriella was barely aware of the villagers as they yelled and dove out of her way. A subtle exit would’ve been a better plan, but any shred of logical thinking was buried beneath an avalanche of memories and a desire not to die.
Ahead of her the gate loomed. Matthew stood beside it.
“Open the gate!” she yelled.
Matthew made no move to open it. She yanked Fire Dancer to a halt and leapt off, using one hand to keep the remains of her dress up.
“Lady Auriella.” Matthew’s tone was not one of shock but a whisper of wonder. His gaze roamed up and down what was left of her clothes.
It would be so easy to take her anger out on this fool, but if she did she would likely kill him. “Matthew!”
“The king has ordered the gates not be opened after dark, for anyone.”
Auriella grabbed him by his skinny throat and shoved him against the wall. “I don’t care what the king said. If you don’t open this gate, I will snap your neck and take the keys off your dead body.”
“My lady,” Matthew croaked. “Please, the king will have my head.”
“It’s either him or me—with the bruises I’m leaving around your neck, I’m sure you can convince the king you were coerced.” She squeezed tighter. “I can guarantee your death right now, or you can take your chances with King Rowan.”
“All right. All right!”
Auriella released him and he fell forward, gasping and rubbing his neck. Auriella mounted Fire Dancer as Matthew unlocked the doors and swung them open.
“Tell anyone where I went and I will come back and finish what I started.”
Matthew gulped and touched his neck.
She spurred her horse forward and pounded towards the forest.
Tybolt bolted out of the stables on Widow Maker. He steered his horse through the streets, shouting for people to move out of the way. As he neared the city gates, Matthew was locking them.
“Hold that gate!” he shouted.
Matthew hesitated, but then he swung the door open.
Tybolt pulled Widow Maker to a stop. “Where did she go?”
Matthew paled.
“Where did she go?”
“I, I…she’ll kill me if I say anything.”
Tybolt growled and snapped the reigns. Auriella could’ve headed towards the forest or towards the coast. If she didn’t want to be found, the forest would be the obvious choice.
Widow Maker’s hoofs pounded across the rocky land between them and the trees. Tybolt saw a flash of white disappear between two large pines. Fire Dancer. Tybolt urged his horse faster, but Widow Maker struggled to increase his speed up the steep ascent. When the ground finally leveled out, Widow Maker’s stride lengthened and they hurtled into the forest.
Auriella reigned in Fire Dancer. The horse’s sides heaved, and foam lathered around the bit. She leaned down and patted Dancer’s neck. “Good girl,” she murmured.
Auriella sat up and tried to slow her own breathing. They were deep in the thieves’ forest now, farther than most Hunters liked to venture. A branch caught at the fabric on her skirt, tearing open the side.
Not like it mattered anymore.
She shouldn’t have run. Any trespasses she’d committed against Terric would surely be forgiven…considering she was clearly first in line to be Queen. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was Rowan’s appetite once he had his sights on the woman he wanted.
She hadn’t been thinking clearly. But she hadn’t been thinking clearly since the moment Sarah had walked through her door with this obscene dress draped over her arms. And now she’d left the city during Festival. That was sure to enrage the king, although to what outcome she didn’t know. She thought of returning and begging forgiveness, but she couldn’t make herself turn the horse around.
Auriella didn’t want forgiveness. She wanted to be free.
The trees opened up to reveal a small mountain lake with a distorted silver crescent dancing in the center. On the south side of the lake sat a cabin with thin trails of white smoke seeping from the chimney. She pulled Fire Dancer to a stop and stared.
What was she doing? Even now, this close to him, she knew she couldn’t have what she wanted. The da
nger was too great.
Auriella dismounted and sank to the ground in a pile of torn silk.
Tybolt walked his horse in circles, looking for something, anything, that might point him in the right direction. He was practically right on top of the piece of green silk before he saw it fluttering on the branch. He plucked it off and frowned.
He peered through the trees as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers. There was a broken branch a little further in—someone had indeed passed through here. He turned Widow Maker and headed straight into the thieves’ forest.
This section of the forest was a dangerous place, even for a Hunter. Several Hunters had never returned from venturing in. Others barely made it out with their lives. Ambushes were common and the thieves took no mercy. They were also precariously close to Desolate Drop, and the trees were so tightly packed you wouldn’t see it until it was too late.
Tybolt normally loved the beauty of the forest, but here the trees lost their rugged appeal and screamed of the danger that could be hiding behind them. Enhancing the precarious situation was a thick layer of pine needles that covered the ground, perfect for softening the foot falls of an approaching enemy—he could be surrounded and never know it.
Hunter skills were worthless when an arrow went through your neck.
Tybolt’s nerves twitched and sizzled beneath his skin. He listened for any sound that seemed out of place and kept one hand on the hilt of his sword. Time crawled by as Widow Maker plodded forward into a section of the woods he wasn’t familiar with.
The trees suddenly gave way to a clearing and a mountain lake. Tybolt gently pulled Widow Maker to a stop.
Auriella sat on the ground not far from him, her arms wrapped around her legs and her horse grazing nearby. The back of her dress had been torn almost completely open, and the moonlight gleamed off her bare skin.
