by Kaylin Lee
Fear pummeled my stomach until I thought I would retch right there on the floor of the coach. Not once had it occurred to me that I might be pregnant. My monthly cycles had been irregular my whole life. How could I know if it was true? I placed my hand protectively on my stomach.
The Wasp laughed as she followed my gaze to the placement of my hand. “You belong to me, pet. As does your child, if you carry one. And if that child holds even one drop of your power, it will be useful to me. If not?” She shrugged and made a flicking motion with her finger.
Icy chills came over me.
“You may complete this outing. Then you will stay in your tower until I know if you carry a child.”
How could she do this? Surely, she still needed me. She was sending me into the Tiger clan in secret, wasn't she? How could she say that she didn't need me anymore? My breathing came in gasps, and the shaking grew worse.
“Rapunzel. Snap out of it. And listen to me.” Her razor-sharp command cut through the air between us like a knife.
A wave of numb, cool calm washed over me, and the whirlwind of fear evaporated completely. All that mattered was the Wasp, and her will. Nothing else.
Chapter 9
The Wasp gave me my instructions—a new crop of rebellious Tiger clan leaders to be eliminated. “Now go.”
I opened the door and got out. My injured ankle shook and stabbed with pain. I entered through the small servants’ gate, ignoring the guards as they ignored me. A girl in a matching sparkly black dress met me and led me through the compound.
I walked as though in a trance, the numbness from the Wasp’s command at odds with the chaos of my thoughts. This couldn’t be happening. I touched my stomach. Was I truly carrying a child? Could I feel it?
I was a monster. A selfish, thoughtless monster. I had agonized about tying myself to Darien, but I had never considered the possibility of bringing an innocent child into my horrible life. What had I done?
The thought of our child growing up in that tower, controlled by the Wasp, was too much. It was just too much. I couldn't allow it. I had to escape.
I cursed my weak, soft body and the lethargy that had overtaken me since Darien had left. Then I cursed the worthless ankle that refused to heal. I’d never been in worse shape for an escape attempt. I could only hope desperation would provide the fuel I needed to get away.
A child. A child. I followed the servant girl into the largest Tiger villa as the words echoed in my mind. Darien’s child—my child—sheltered in this body of death? Impossible. Perfect. Amazing, yet terrifying.
I had to get away. Whatever the cost, I had to get away.
~
The job was done quickly in a haze of nervous energy. The servant girl waited outside the Tiger clan leaders’ private chamber to guide me back, but my series of commands had been completed. I was free.
Before I left the counsel room, I stopped to yank two curtain ties from the long windows. My guide didn’t even notice because she was too intent on getting away unseen. We hurried through the hallways toward the small side door where we’d entered. Now was my chance. This time, I couldn’t fail.
“Wait,” I said.
The girl stopped walking and raised her eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
My hand trembled as I stretched it toward her. “Sit down. Or I’ll …” I didn’t bother finishing the sentence.
She stilled and widened her eyes. “What? What are you—”
“I said, sit down.” I made my voice as harsh as I could to cover the sound of its nervous shaking.
She sank into a slow crouch and then sat on the floor in the narrow, dark hallway. I held up the curtain ties to tie her hands to her ankles and gag her mouth. She shuddered every time my skin brushed hers.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered. She looked away from me.
I stood and stepped back. The hour was late, and the hallway was deserted. I turned back to the main part of the villa. This time, I’d go out the front entrance.
Dim luminous lamps lit the hallways. Would anyone find the leaders’ bodies before morning? They’d be more likely to find the servant girl first. Hopefully, I’d be long gone by then.
Quickening my pace, I reached the grand entryway, a vast room marked by tall, dramatic windows, lush carpets, and ornate furniture. My legs shook as I strode toward the doors. The lethargy that had consumed me for the past few months was gone completely. It was all I could do not to sprint.
Miraculously, I didn't encounter anyone. The black-clad porter snoozed on a chair beside the door, his body slouched against the wall. I held my breath and slipped past him.
The chilly, moonless night wrapped around me. Hazy skies hung low over the city, and the heavy wood smoke made my eyes water.
I had to get away. I placed a hand on my belly again. I needed strength, but I had none. All I could do was be faster than I'd ever been for this baby—if there was one—and for Darien.
The guards at the entrance to the Tiger compound took no notice of me. I supposed they weren’t worried about servants leaving, and I’d already been able to get in. They’d be called to task for their negligence soon enough.
When I was beyond their line of sight, I ran, kicking off my shoes as I went. Before I’d made it to the end of the street, I was gasping with exertion. I regretted losing my shoes as my weak ankle buckled beneath me, but what could I do? The flimsy slippers would have provided little support anyway. My fear-fueled sprint slowed to a limping jog, but I kept going. I couldn't let myself stop.
I turned down a narrow alley and realized I had no idea where to go next. In my flurry of nervous urgency, I had lost my bearings completely. I hadn’t been near the city walls since I was a child.
“Just pick a direction,” I whispered under my breath. Eventually, I’d hit a wall, wouldn’t I? Beyond the wall would be the Badlands and freedom.
I tore down the alley, crossed a deserted street, and fled down the next alley. There was no sign of the Wasp. Was I finally free?
Then a fomecoach pulled up at the end of the alley. It had to be her. The door opened as I spun away and ran back in the direction I’d come. A force hit me from behind and knocked me to the ground. I curled around my belly as I lay on the hard, stone street. Please, not this time. Not this time!
I struggled to my feet, but the force shoved me to my knees. I strained against it the way Darien had taught me. I managed to move away from the Wasp’s magic, but I had nowhere near enough strength to escape it completely.
Then, inexplicably, the force disappeared. I struggled to my feet and searched the shadows for the Wasp. Her fomecoach loomed at the end of the alley. The body of her guard lay still on the ground. But two bodies were locked in a struggle on the cobblestones nearby.
I limped toward the fray. A man gripped the Wasp from behind with one arm around her face, blocking her mouth. She must have been attacking him with her power, because they shook and swayed together. The man was tall and bearded. I squinted into the darkness.
“Darien?” My voice was painfully soft in the silence of the dark alley.
He grappled with the Wasp and faced me, his expression tortured. “No, Zel! Run! Get away. You have to go, now!”
I didn’t move. “You came back.” My thoughts moved in slow motion.
“Don't wait for me.” Her magic pummeled him, and she strained against him. “Go. I couldn't get help, and I … Just run. Promise me. And don't come back.”
I stood there, torn with indecision. I couldn't leave him. And yet … What if there truly was a baby? What if she commanded me to kill Darien? I couldn’t stay, but how could I leave?
“Run!” He screamed. The desperation in his voice hacked at my indecision like a knife, and I finally turned away.
I pushed my legs into a limping run, looking back several times. I was out of their line of sight, almost all the way down the next alley, when the Wasp screamed, “Rapunzel!”
I was too far away to hear the command that came next. I k
ept running.
Then a man’s gut-wrenching scream echoed through the streets, followed by nothing but silence. I doubled over in the middle of the street. Darien? What had she done to him?
The Wasp shouted again, but I couldn’t hear distinctly. Her shout echoed off the empty streets. My breath came in gasps. It sounded like she’d screamed a promise, “I'll always find you!”
Tears streamed down my face, but I resumed my flight, my ankle stabbing with pain at each halting step. I didn't stop until I left the city walls.
Chapter 10
The Badlands stretched before me in a cloudy, dark landscape of stony outcroppings, narrow washes, scraggly trees, and shifting shadows. Behind me, Draicia’s walls soared high into the smoky, midnight sky, looking for all the world like a smoldering chimney. I forced myself to move south, away from the city gates.
What if the Wasp made good her threat to find me? She had always found me before, but I’d never made it more than a few blocks away from her. Now I was finally outside the city. But would that stop her? I, better than anyone, knew how relentless and heartless my mistress could be.
Former mistress. She was done with me, after my betrayal with Darien. She’d told me herself. Now, she wouldn’t be satisfied until I was dead like he was. I nearly sobbed aloud at the thought, but kept silent, forcing myself to move away from the city even as my lungs were crushed with grief.
My ankle throbbed and threatened to give out entirely as I stumbled along the rough ground of the Badlands, dragging myself further away from the city walls. I didn’t even have a change of clothes. No water. No food. The Wasp would get her wish. I had escaped the city, but I was surely going to die in the Badlands.
How could I ever have dreamed of reaching Asylia? Darien was my only hope. He knew how to survive in the wilderness. Was there any chance he lived?
No. I’d heard that horrifying scream. The Wasp must have destroyed him with her magic. I clenched my fists. He had saved me, but at what cost?
A dry river bed led me through high, jagged rock walls that blocked the city walls from view. I followed it for hours, until a weak, gray dawn eased into the sky overhead and my tongue stuck to the parched, dry roof of my mouth.
For the third time in the past hour, my ankle collapsed under me. I crashed to my knees with a low groan, then struggled to my feet. But I couldn’t make myself move forward. Why bother to go on? Death was inevitable. Either the Wasp would find me, or the Badlands would kill me.
But if I gave up, the child would die with me. I had to move forward, didn’t I? I couldn’t allow Darien’s sacrifice to be wasted.
My bare feet were stone-bruised already, but I managed to climb a short rise beside the wash to sit atop a boulder and get my bearings. My gaze sharpened on a puff of grey smoke in the distance ahead of me. It was just after dawn, so it had to be a cook fire. That meant people. The distant campfire beckoned me. If I could only reach it, maybe I’d survive.
I scrambled from my perch and found a stick to use as a staff. The terrain was rough, and two hours later, I was ready to drop. Had the smoke been a mirage?
I’d come too far to go back, and I was certainly lost. All the stories about the Badlands were true. This barren place was impassible for a person who didn’t have the proper skills. Even experienced travelers died on the rough journey between cities. I didn’t know anything. I had nothing. I would never make it.
But when I rounded the next bend, I spotted the small collection of tents ahead. It was real. The countryside opened up, and the riverbed continued straight ahead. I left the dry wash and ventured across a flat plain toward the weak column of smoke that rose near the tents, waving my stick above my head as though I could attract attention from whoever tended the fire.
Something like panic drove me forward, energizing my weak, exhausted limbs. What if I couldn’t reach it? What if I collapsed in the scrub brush, just a few hundred feet away, and nobody found me until I was a pile of bones?
I tried to shout, but all that came out was a croak. I hobbled forward at a painfully slow pace, my bare feet stabbing with pain at each step, my ankle buckling beneath me. Somehow, I got closer. I couldn’t stop. I had to make it.
The sky had brightened to a pale gray by the time I made it to the edge of the camp. A group of thin, ragged Badlanders with wild hair watched me warily from the other side of the fire, and then a man with deep, tan wrinkles and thinning gray hair stepped forward, coming between me and the camp. He brandished a stick at waist height like a club, but even in my desperate state, I could tell his hand shook.
“No trouble. Please, mage, we don’t want any trouble.” His voice was raw. “Why have you come here? Please, don’t touch us.”
My heart sank. Don’t touch us. How did he already know what I was? “Water,” I rasped. “No trouble … won’t touch … I promise.” Weakness swept over me, and I landed hard on my knees.
The man edged closer and prodded my shoulder with his stick, but I couldn’t even work up the strength to lift a threatening hand. I rolled from my knees to my back. The pale sky seemed to be falling down upon me, and I closed my eyes against the sky’s dizzying descent. Darien, I’m sorry. So sorry.
~
The dry leaves of autumn had dropped from the trees not long after I’d arrived, and the harsh Badlands had turned soon after from dry and cool to frigid, icy, and miserable. For three months, I shivered in the small settlement of Badlanders who sheltered me while I waited for Darien.
They’d shown me mercy when I most desperately needed it, and thanks to the stubborn kindness of their leader Belen, had cared for me when I was helpless in their midst. Some were still terrified me, but I hadn’t been able to bring myself to leave, hoping against hope that Darien would make it out of Draicia and find me.
My tent was small and cramped, and my back ached from stooping over whenever I stood inside it. But I slept beneath a pile of furs and stayed warm enough each night. I stretched and shoved the furs off my bed, then shivered in the frosty morning air. My breath puffed out in a warm, visible cloud. The dim winter light filtering in through the tattered canvas tent told me it was just past dawn. Time to rise, and to see what I could do to help the Badlanders today. I didn’t have much to offer in the way of survival skills, but the occasional hunting party found a use for me. I had a feeling they were eating more meat now than before I arrived.
I left my small tent, straightening gratefully as I stepped out into the wintry morning air. Bare patches of old, dirty snow dotted the rocky hills around the camp, but the camp itself was clear of snow.
Belen met me at the main campfire and handed me a small, chipped mug of hot porridge as I sat beside him. I matched his forward-leaning posture to soak in heat from the fire, and steam from the porridge added extra warmth to my face as I shoveled the food down in silence.
“Hala says it won’t be long now,” Belen muttered around a mouthful of food.
I glanced over. “What?”
He gestured at my belly, then returned his attention to the porridge.
“Oh. Really? I suppose …” My belly had grown in the past three months, it was true. There was no denying it now. Darien had left me with a baby. But surely, I still had time—
“You can’t stay here much longer, Zel. The Badlands are no place for a child, much less a newborn. And the longer you wait, the more difficult it will be to travel.”
I swallowed down a hot bite of porridge, wincing as it burned my throat. “I … I know, I know. I can’t. I just …”
“You wanted to go to Asylia, was it?”
I nodded slowly. Belen was from there. He’d been the man who knew me—knew I had the Touch—when I stumbled upon their camp after my flight from Draicia. He was a tracker, he’d told me later after I’d recovered. A weak, absorbent mage the Asylian government had trained to use his power to police other mages. But he’d been cast out, and eventually, he had found himself leading the small group of Badlanders who’d sheltered me and
helped to heal my ankle.
Belen gulped down the last bite of porridge, then set his mug on the ground and leaned back against a weathered stump, folding his hands over the back of his head. “You won’t make it there. Take my word for it. You’d be better off back in Draicia.”
I scowled. “I’m not going back. I’m going to Asylia. No matter what.” Even if Darien was dead, he’d meant Asylia to be our home. I had to make it there.
“Thought you’d say that.” He shook his head but kept his gaze on the fire before us. “It’s full of trackers like me, you know. Better trackers than me. They’ll recognize you in an instant. And the Asylian king is mad. Paranoid, cruel, and mean as a rabid wolf. He’ll find you and make you his, and you’ll be as much a slave in Asylia as you were in Draicia.” He shot me a worried glance, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening in obvious concern. “You understand?”
Perhaps that was why Darien hadn’t been able to secure help to rescue me. I shoved the thought away. Memories of Darien still threatened to undo me completely, and I couldn’t stand to begin another day with tears. As the months passed, I had finally admitted the truth to myself—Darien was dead. I’d known it from the sound of his horrible scream and the Wasp’s triumphant promise to find me. Darien wasn’t coming out of Draicia.
I rubbed my hands on my upper arms, cold despite the warmth of the fire on my face. “The king won’t find me, and neither will the trackers. I’ll stay hidden. I’ll … I’ll make a way.”
Belen was silent as the tents around the campfire began to rustle. The other members of the camp would be up soon. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and stared into the fire. When he spoke, his words were almost too quiet to hear. “Master Eric Stone. The Golden Loaf Bakery in Asylia’s Merchant Quarter.”
