“Come on, Irving. We’ll never find a good spot if—” I stop abruptly because my eyes land on a man and woman laughing in the shadows of the booth.
The man’s hands rest at the woman’s hips, and she laughs as he trails kisses down her neck. It’s a tawdry display, and I would look away if I wasn’t so surprised. It’s my cousin Kent. Giselle’s husband.
As if feeling eyes on him, Kent suddenly pauses, his lips hovering over the woman’s shoulder. I quickly look away and give Irving another tug.
“Audette,” Irving says. “Look at the scrollwork on this blade.”
I glance at Kent again, hoping he hasn’t noticed us yet.
Unfortunately, my cousin’s eyes are on me, and he looks both guilty and slightly ill. Irving follows my gaze, and then he lets out a low whistle.
Frowning, Kent sets his hand on the woman’s back, and, without a word of greeting, ushers her across the street.
“Well,” Irving says several moments after they’ve disappeared. “That was awkward.”
I nod, my stomach still unsettled. Unable to help myself, I glance at Irving. If I were to marry him, would that be my future? Would I be sitting, bored and lonely, in the castle, while Irving entertains himself with other women?
“Are you all right?” Irving asks after he buys the dagger he was admiring from the local merchant.
Though I’m not sure if I am, I nod.
He offers the dagger to me. “See if it will fit in your boot. It’s a little long, but I think it will.”
I stare at the swirled etching on the blade. “You bought it for me?”
Irving gives me a funny look, but his eyes are bright. “It’s a little too pretty for me, don’t you think?”
Smiling, I pull the functional but plain dagger from the pocket in my boot and hand it to him. I slide the new blade in, and I’m pleased to see it fits well. “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome.” With that, he takes my hand again, and we continue toward the pier.
***
I’ve never seen fireworks before, but I’ve heard of them. Making them is an art rooted in science, but to me, they’re magic. Sailors bring them with shipments from the southern kingdoms, but their secrets are guarded. No one in Elden has been able to reproduce them.
The western horizon glows purple, and stars dot the inky night sky. The crowd grows restless, eager for the show to begin. Irving stands with me, his right shoulder just behind my left, and though he hasn’t mentioned it, his posture tells me he’s protecting me from the press of the crowds.
I turn my head to look at him. “Have you seen fireworks before?”
“Once,” he answers. “At a festival in Triblue.”
“What do they look like?”
He shakes his head, and a warm smile tips his lips. “Almost indescribable.”
I stand on my tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the men preparing the display on an island not far from the shore. The night has grown too dark to make them out.
With another question on my lips, I turn back to Irving. Before I can utter the words, I’m cut off by a shrill shriek far to the left. I whip around, thinking the show must be starting, but there’s nothing. The cry is followed by another, but it’s not joyful as I first thought.
It’s terrified.
The audience begins to shift. From the left, the crowd scatters and flees. More shouts fill the air, and people near us begin to run. A man strikes my shoulder as he pushes through the crowd.
“Audette,” Irving yells from not far away.
There are too many people now. They jostle me and push me farther from Irving in their haste. We’re too far away from the original din for the people to know why they’re running, but run they do.
“I’m here,” I call back, pushing through the crowd toward Irving’s voice.
More screams fill the night, and, like a skittish sheep, my heart quickens its pace, warning me there’s danger—warning me to flee. I fight the instinct back although my fingers involuntarily search for the sword that’s tucked safely in my room at the inn.
Why did I wear this ridiculous gown? What was I thinking?
Movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye. There’s something large in the distance toward the east. I freeze in place, fighting to stand firm in the sea of shifting bodies. Whatever I saw is gone.
Wait.
There’s something—
Someone grabs my elbow, and I scream. Twirling swiftly, I yank my elbow away and make to attack. Irving jumps out of the way just as I’m about to drive my palm into his nose.
I jerk my hand back, and he latches onto my arm, ensuring we won’t be separated again.
“I saw something,” I yell over the chaos.
Irving nods. “I saw it too.”
“Could you make it out?”
He only shakes his head. “It looked like…”
“A shadow.”
Silent understanding passes between us.
“We have to get to the inn,” I say. “I need my sword.”
“You can’t fight this thing alone,” Irving argues.
A woman fights through the crowd, elbowing me in the back. I grunt and fall against Irving’s chest. With his eyes on the eastern streets, he wraps his arms around me, keeping me close to protect me from the frantic villagers.
“I won’t be alone.” I meet his eyes. “I’ll have you.”
After several moments, he nods. “Let’s hurry, before it disappears again.”
The streets are thick with terror. If the creature is truly feeding on fear, then there’s a feast lying at its feet.
“Dragon!” a man screams near us as he runs through the streets. “The dragon is attacking!”
With Irving’s hand clenched over mine, we push our way toward the Ocean Ruby. The inn’s not far from here, and luckily it’s to the west, away from the creature’s path. In the jumble of people, it takes double the time to reach the entryway.
People flee the building. Some pull hastily packed trunks, many with clothing tumbling out the sides. Others, likely those from the mainland who lived through the savage dragon attacks during the Dragon Wars, leave their belongings behind.
The stables are a madhouse of horses and carriages, and no one can get through. Horses shy and jerk at their reins, men scream at each other, and two near the tavern down the road have come to blows.
Nearby, a small child of five or six, likely separated from her parents, presses herself against the inn’s exterior. Her dark hair is a mess. Tears stream down her face, and she gasps for breath, terrified.
Frantic, I look for her parents, but no one claims her. I hesitate only for a minute, looking over my shoulder to the east. I don’t have time to stop. I must find the beast, and, more importantly, the wizard who’s conjured it. But we can’t leave her standing here, alone…
It’s Irving who makes up my mind. Immediately, without thought, he kneels before her. She eyes him, her body quivering with fright.
“Hello, darling.” He says the words like it’s the middle of a warm summer day and we’ve chanced upon her in a garden. “Where are your parents?”
She only hiccups and begins to cry harder.
As he tries to coax an answer out of her, I gasp. A shadow moves, not far from us now, near the pier where we stood only minutes ago.
“It’s coming this way.” I dash into the building and call over my shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”
I race against the flow of people, pushing into the halls instead of out. I look for Grace, Javid, and Milly, though I’m sure they’re still in the library, safe across the city. I fumble with my room key, cursing myself for being cautious and keeping it locked. When the door finally swings open, I almost fall flat on my face. There’s no time to change, so I only grab the blade, not bothering with its sheath.
Sword in hand, I burst from the building. Irving’s convinced the girl to move away from the wall. He holds her hand, murmu
ring reassuring words, but his attention is toward the pier.
When I’m close enough he can whisper so the girl won’t overhear him, he says, “It moves like a living beast, but the only glimpses I catch are shadows.”
The crowd is still thick, a raging anthill of scurrying insects, but the mass has thinned to nothing toward the pier.
“From what I can tell, it looks like it’s tracking something,” Irving says.
An involuntary shudder passes through me. “Have you seen a man lingering nearby?”
“No.” Irving shakes his head. “But we don’t know the tether required. It’s possible he’s on the other side of Constelita.”
That would require a brand of dark magic so strong, I refuse to consider it.
We move farther down, putting distance between us and the creature. The little girl’s sobs have quieted to tiny, pitiful gasps.
“If the wizard’s not even here,” I say. “How do we kill the beast?”
Irving glances at the girl, looking torn. “Stay with her, get her away from here. I’ll face it.”
I shake my head. “I won’t send you alone. It was practically a suicide mission when we spoke of taking it on just the two of us.”
As we speak, we peer around a building, watching the beast circle a spot on the pier.
“Audette.” Irving’s voice sounds funny. “Where exactly were we standing?”
Just as soon as the words are out of his mouth, the creature freezes. Slowly, it turns our way. It’s too dark to make out its shape, much less see its eyes, but my blood runs cold. It’s locked onto us, but whether by sight or smell or some other sense, I don’t know.
When we first arrived, Queen Clara told me to follow my gut intuition.
“Run.” I say the word quietly at first, testing it. Then I bolt. “We need to run!”
Without the slightest hesitation, Irving scoops the girl into his arms, and we race through the thinning crowd. I don’t know how, but I can feel it behind us, closing in on us.
We run for what seems like ages, darting through side-streets and racing past the last of the villagers who have yet to find safety.
When it seems we may have finally escaped it, we pause in a darkened alley, gasping for breath. Irving sets the child on her feet, and she sinks to the ground. He stretches his arms, tired from running halfway across Constelita while carrying the girl.
“I think we may have lost it,” I dare whisper.
From farther down, shining like a beacon in the night, a lone torch flickers at the back entrance of a small shop. The alley is eerie, too quiet. I’m not sure how long we’ve been running—thirty minutes, hours. I have no idea. My legs tremble, both from our flight through the streets and also from the fear coursing through my veins.
“I don’t think so,” Irving says. “It may be catching its breath as well.”
Which makes me wonder: why would a conjured creature need to rest? Is the wizard tethered to it, running through the streets behind it? Is he too tired to hold the magic?
After one more deep breath, Irving kneels down and grins at the child we’ve basically kidnapped. “Do you think you can sit on my shoulders this time?”
I chance a peek around a corner, looking down the street to see if the creature lurks farther down. “Is that safe? Won’t she fall?”
“She’ll hold on,” he says, and then he looks back at the girl. “Won’t you, darling?”
In response, her bottom lip begins to quiver, and she falls against him, sobbing into his tunic.
Murmuring soothing words, he picks her up, clutching her against his chest. “This works too.”
Poor Irving. Though he’s strong, his arms must be ready to give out.
We continue through the city, this time walking at a brisk pace. We travel for hours, winding through the alleys, never daring to stay in one place too long. The inns and taverns have bolted their doors, and we’re locked in the streets like vagabonds.
Several times, we stop to allow Irving to rest his arms. I carry the girl for a while, though I can’t manage it for very long. Every once in a while, my senses sharpen, and I can practically feel the creature searching for us.
We pause again to catch our breath in a public garden. In the trees, birds have begun their morning songs. My eyes ache, and every muscle in my body screams for sleep. The child has fallen asleep in Irving’s arms, and he carefully sets her on the ground. He sinks next to her, taking a precious moment to rest.
I collapse next to them, more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life. If the birds feel it’s safe enough to sing, surely the creature has given up the trail. Morning approaches. Already the eastern horizon has lightened to lavender.
Closing my eyes, I murmur, “Just for a moment.”
“Only a moment,” Irving agrees, already sounding half-asleep.
***
I jerk awake, but I don’t dare move. The birds are silent. Even with my eyes closed, I sense something watching me from the nearby shadows, a predator ready to attack. I draw in a careful breath, fighting the panic that’s freezing me in place. Slowly, I inch my hand to the hilt of my sword.
From beside me, Irving and the girl’s soft breathing stays peaceful and even. How can’t they feel it? That horrifying sensation of being watched?
Just as I’m preparing to leap up and fight whatever it is that has found us, a pain like I’ve never known envelopes me. My vision blurs, and I cry out. The sensation surrounds me, blinding me with a white-hot, searing fire that robs me of my breath and leaves me writhing on the ground. I clutch my arms around myself, unable to escape the unfathomable pain.
As suddenly as it came on, the sensation ebbs. My screams turn to whimpers, and I curl into myself. When I finally peel my eyes open, I find the little girl at my back, huddled next to me, whether for her own comfort or mine, I don’t know.
Above us, Irving stands, his eyes behind us and his bow drawn. He shoots an arrow into the night. When it meets its target, a chilling yip fills the air—the sound of a flesh and blood creature in pain.
“It’s retreating,” Irving says, his gaze still intent.
I begin to shiver, and my muscles tremble in violent waves. Suddenly, I’m chilled, colder than I’ve been in my life. When I try to talk, only a pathetic, strangled mew comes out.
More terrified of losing control of my own body than the memory of the pain, I clench my eyes shut.
“Audette?” Irving kneels next to me and then pulls me onto his lap. “It’s gone.” His words are reassuring, but his voice is shaken, worried.
I try to force myself to speak, but again, it seems it’s an impossible task.
He strokes my hair. “Audette?”
“Is she all right?” A tiny voice asks.
“Of course,” he answers, but his voice is falsely bright.
Irving rubs my arms, trying to warm me in an attempt to stop the violent shivering.
“I’m cold,” I’m finally able to croak out.
Relieved, Irving clutches me closer. “I know. We’ll get you back to the inn and find you a physician.”
Without bothering to ask if I can walk—which I can’t—he somehow scoops me into his arms. I can feel his muscles tremble. He’s exhausted after carrying the girl most of the night, but I’m too far gone to care. I curl toward his chest, grateful for his warmth. Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I let sleep take me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When I wake, I find the little girl leaning over me, staring at me. With her dark brown eyes solemn, she leans back and looks over her shoulder. “She’s awake.”
Instantly, Milly rises from the chair not far from the bed. “Well, give her some air.”
I sit up, feeling vaguely off. “What’s wrong with me?”
Thankfully, the words come out with ease. That, if nothing else, is a relief.
“Nothing.” Milly sits on the edge of the bed, and her features soften. “The physician said other than being unconscious when Irving broug
ht you in, you’re in perfect health.”
After glancing at the small girl, half-wondering why she’s still here, I lower my voice. “But what did the beast do to me?”
Milly shrugs. “They think you had a bad scare. That’s all.”
That’s not all. The memory of the pain comes flooding back, and I rub my temples at the thought. I’m not a delicate princess who faints at the thought of things that go bump in the night. That thing did something to me. Whether it was the beast or the wizard who attacked me, I don’t know.
But I intend to find out.
Milly frowns and runs her eyes over me. She stretches out a hand like she means to touch my hair. “You look…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Pulling her hand back, she shakes her head. “Just tired.”
I toss my covers aside and stand, half expecting to feel light-headed. I don’t. I feel…fine. Vaguely off perhaps, but perfectly normal.
And that in itself is odd.
“Where’s Irving?” I ask.
The stone floor is cool on my bare feet. I cross the room and pull back the drapes. Below me, Constelita is alive with people going about their day. It’s as if last night’s events didn’t even take place. How can things return to normal so quickly?
“Barowalt’s returned,” Milly answers. “Irving’s speaking with him.”
I watch a boy fight with a donkey in the street and then glance at the girl, who’s come to stand next to me. She’s a slender thing, but probably older than I originally thought.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
Her lips twitch as she, too, watches the boy and the donkey, but she doesn’t quite smile. “Letta.”
“And how old are you, Letta?”
The girl turns, and her very serious eyes meet mine. “I’m seven, but the woman at the orphanage said I’m small for my age.”
Milly meets my eyes over the girl’s head and gives me a pained shrug.
Well, this is inconvenient.
“They’ll probably be missing you,” I say, hoping to sound kind. “How did you find yourself in the street?”
She turns back to the window, avoiding my gaze. “I ran away.”
I’m not very good with children. I don’t know what to do with them, how to talk to them. Instead of answering, I only nod and then step behind the partition to dress.
Audette of Brookraven (The Eldentimber Series Book 4) Page 12
