by Casey Odell
15
“I trust Miss Claire had a good night.” Aeron stood at the bottom of the inn stairs and wriggled his eyebrows.
Claire paused halfway down the steps. Had they seen what happened last night? She glanced around the empty room and breathed a sigh of relief that the other elf wasn’t there. She smiled at Aeron. “And I’d be surprised if you didn’t as well.”
“Ah, yes, I did.” He spread his arms wide with a feigned look of awe on his face. “Sanre, the surprising city of love.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. She should have known he wouldn’t let it go. She felt tired all over again. Most of the night was spent tossing and turning in her bed. Dark circles lined her eyes and her muscles struggled with fatigue. She wondered how Bren would react to her. Would he apologize and take it all back? Why did she care so much? Perhaps her mind really did need a distraction from everything else.
She brushed past Aeron, finishing off the braid in her hair, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Farron leaned against the wall just around the corner in front of the door. Of course he had been there the whole time without saying a word. She forced a smile to hide her displeasure. She felt like she had to be nice to him after last night. Would he hold that favor over her head? She hoped not.
“Good morning,” she said brightly.
He looked at her as if he finally realized she was there. He remained silent, face emotionless.
“Alright then.” She took a deep breath, stepped out onto the road and quickly closed the door behind her.
Cool air nipped along her skin. She stopped in the middle of the street and tilted her face up towards to the sky, her eyes narrowing at the bright morning light. That was as far as her plan went. The room just felt too smothering. Too much tension to start the day off right.
It was quiet. Most of the city’s inhabitants probably nursed hangovers from the night before. She glanced in either direction as she waited for the others. The street totally devoid of life seemed a little eerie. It would be the perfect chance to escape.
The muscles in her body tensed as she quietly played with the sudden idea. She could hide out easily in this town. Her pulse quickened and she spun back to the inn. Did she want to escape? Nothing was keeping her here now. The deal they had had concerning her mother was shattered, with only the Madam’s promise to look for her as her only hope. What about Bren? Surely she could find him in Lendon again and explain the situation. She held her breath as she watched the door to the inn with wide eyes. If she were to escape, where would she go? She turned to face down the street, putting the inn behind her. The street seemed longer than before. Her mind screamed at her feet to move, but they remained planted to the ground. The tightness in her chest almost overwhelmed her.
“Thinking of escaping?” Farron asked close to her ear.
Claire jumped, both her hands grasping her chest to keep her heart from leaping out of it. Her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed to her knees. Why did he do that? Her breath slowly returned to her in sharp gasps. She sat back on her feet and covered her face with her hands, her back hunched forward. She had been so close. Why couldn’t she do it? Was a thin hope in a madam and her word really worth staying for?
She brought her knee up in front of her, pretending to check the laces on her boot, and glanced down the street. Still empty.
“It seems my lady has forgotten what happened the last time she tried to outrun me.”
Claire peered up at the elf standing behind her, so sure of himself. He was fast, no doubt about that, but now she had buildings and people. She glanced down the empty street again. Well, people were sure to be somewhere. Besides, she was able to outrun a centaur before; the elf should be a piece of cake. At least that was what she would like to believe. She grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it behind her before scrambling to her feet.
Running at full speed, she didn’t bother to check behind her. She knew he was going to catch up to her. What she needed was a hiding space or a distraction. She dipped into a side alley, hoping it wasn’t a dead end, and emerged out on the other side onto a crowded street. Luck seemed to be on her side already. She turned right, walking hurriedly as she dodged through the throngs of people. She slipped into a restaurant, busy with the breakfast crowd, and made a beeline for the kitchen. Her heart pounded against her ribs, reverberating throughout her body, her muscles trembling with the rush of excitement. She glanced behind her. No sign of the elf, but he wasn’t going to give up yet.
She pushed open the swinging door into the kitchen. The staff was too busy to notice her presence. Straight through on the back wall was the door to the outside, propped open to let the heat escape. She walked briskly around the room and tried her best to avoid the workers when her knee bumped into a pan stacked on a low shelf and knocked it and several others onto the floor. The kitchen filled with the loud clang of metal on tile and all eyes turned to her.
“Sorry!” she yelled and dashed for the door. Surely they would understand.
She burst through the door out into the tight back alley. The smell of waste instantly stung her nose. A pair of arms suddenly snatched her from behind, wrapping tightly around her body and lifting her off the ground.
“Dirt is a naughty trick, my lady,” Farron growled close to her ear.
Claire kicked furiously, her nails dug into his skin as she tried to pry his arms away from her. She managed to wriggle an arm free and she elbowed him in the side with all her force, enough to loosen his grip ever so slightly.
“Let go!” she shouted.
He covered her mouth to stifle her shouts. She grabbed his wrist and pried his gloved hand away enough to bite down hard on one of the exposed fingers.
“Sintae!” he shouted in another language, releasing her and she fell to the ground.
Scrambling to her feet again, she tipped one of the barrels stacked by the wall over in her wake. She glanced behind her before she turned the corner to another narrow alleyway. Farron still stood in the same spot as he waved the hand she bit in the air. He asked for that.
The street she turned down this time was barren. Guess her luck had run out. She took off down it and glanced desperately at the buildings. Most of the stores looked closed. Perhaps she picked the wrong town to make her escape in after all, or at least the wrong hour.
An open sign hung in one of the windows. Her good fortune returning, she entered and slammed the door shut behind her, her back pressed up against the rough wood. She rested her head back against it as she tried to catch her breath and looked around the dim room. Chains and whips lined the wall on one side, displayed on tiny silver hooks. Corsets and other types of undergarments on the other. Not having read the sign outside in her haste, she wondered what type of place she’d stumbled in on.
“Well, you’re not my usual type of customer.”
A man stood behind a low counter in a deep purple corset, a feather in his long black hair. Her eyes widened as she pressed her back up further against the door. Was he wearing a skirt under that? Not one to judge usually, but this was too weird, even for her.
“Come on, don’t be shy. Everyone has a dark side.” The owner of the deep voice grinned at her and motioned for her to come closer. He leaned over the counter; his dark rimmed eyes looking her up and down. “Name your vice, Miss.”
Her hands searched behind her for the doorknob. It was there a moment ago. “Maybe some other time.” Her hand found the knob and turned it. The weight of her body propelled her back out onto the street and she quickly closed the door behind her. What was with this town?
“My lady, I didn’t know you had such tastes.”
Claire spun around. Farron stood in the middle of the street with a huge grin on his face. Heat rushed up to her cheeks as she looked up at the sign hanging above the door. Dee’s Delightful Pleasures. Well, at least Dee seemed delightful.
She straightened her back in an effort to look nonchalant. “Everyone has their vices.”
Farron burst out laughing. “I’m sure your prince would be glad to hear that.”
“Be sure to tell him for me then.” She spun on her heel away from him and started to walk down the street again.
“Not so fast,” Farron said from behind her, the laughter gone.
Claire whirled around and drew her dagger. Simply running wasn’t going to work anymore. She had to think of a plan, fast. Drawing her weapon probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was all she had at the moment. At least until she could think of something else.
Farron held his hands up in the air in front of him, blue eyes glaring. “I don’t want to hurt you, Claire.”
She swallowed hard. He only said her name when he was serious. Definitely not the best plan. She glared back, holding the dagger in front of her with unsteady hands. He took a step towards her with a hand extended. She stepped back and glanced sideways to another alley. That strategy hadn’t worked earlier. She took another step back to put more distance between her and the elf. She remembered the fight between him and Bren and the men in the bar back in Lendon. Quite frankly, he frightened her at times. And now was one of them.
He raised a hand to one of the hilts sticking up over his shoulder. Claire jumped and dropped her dagger. Did he really plan to fight her? Talk about excessive use of force. She turned and started to run, but a pothole in the road caught her foot suddenly. Her body landed hard on the dirt, knocking up a puff of dust in her wake.
“My lady, please don’t ever get in a real fight. I fear for your safety.” Farron chuckled softly as he kneeled above her with a knee on each side of her waist. He placed a hand on her back to pin her to the ground.
She threw a glare at him over her shoulder. “I can’t believe you were going to draw your weapon at me!”
“You drew yours first.” His voice was calm with a hint of amusement. “And you bit me.” He held his hand up so she could see it. “That really hurt, you know.”
Claire rose up on her arms as much as she was able to and started to drag herself out from under him. Farron’s hand clamped down on her shoulder, pinning her back to the ground.
“Why can’t you just let me go?” Her arms collapsed and she rested her forehead on them to hide her face from the world. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
Tears stung at her eyes, but she shut them tight to keep them from falling. The rush of the chase had vanished, leaving her tired and worn. Defeated. Farron’s grip softened on her shoulder.
“I can’t, Claire,” he said gently. “If anyone found out what this really is…” He pulled her right arm gently out from under her and held it up between them. “What you really are… Please believe me when I tell you that I am not the worst person to get their hands on you.”
Claire looked at her arm. The mark glowed faintly along the edges. When had that happened? Despite her best efforts, a tear escaped and slid down her cheek. She looked past her arm up to Farron. His eyes were full of worry again. Quickly, she looked away to the ground, then up to the empty road before her.
“You won’t cancel our deal, will you?” she asked, her voice fragile. “With the Madam?”
“No, my lady. I am not that cruel.”
Another tear slid down her cheek and the tension in her body melted away. That was a relief at least. It was her last hope if they wouldn’t let her go. If she couldn’t escape. She was at their mercy. A prisoner once again. She was curious about the mark on her hand and what they thought she, or it, could do. But at what cost? His statement earlier was more than a little ominous. Were people that desperate to get their hands on anything magic related? She wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.
“Thank you.” She wiped the tears away with her hand, freed from his grasp.
“I’m sorry, Claire, that I can’t do more to help.”
She nodded silently in understanding. He’d done more than he had to already. Even he couldn’t disobey orders forever.
He rose to his feet, offered his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her up. He touched her chin lightly, tilting her face up. She flushed under his sudden intense gaze.
“I’ll try my best to make sure nothing happens to you,” he said quietly.
She stared at him for a moment, unable to think of a word to say. It was his duty to protect her, but for some reason he made it seem like so much more. Or was it just all in her head? She wanted to ask why? Why he wanted to go out of his way to help her, to protect her. But instead, all she said was: “Alright.”
He smiled slightly and went to go retrieve her dagger where she had dropped it in the dirt while she dusted herself off. She hadn’t planned on getting her clothes dirty so soon after she’d washed them.
The handle of her dagger popped into view. Farron gripped the blade carefully, offering it to her hilt first.
“Thanks.” She grabbed the hilt and wiped the blade off on her pants before she re-sheathed it.
“I have to say, my lady. That was a stunning display of maturity.” Amusement laced his voice.
“Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.” Aggravated, she put a hand on her hip. “Besides, I think I’m being quite mature right now.”
“How so?”
“I have a very strong desire to hurt you right now, and yet, here I am, restraining myself with dignity and grace.” She rested a hand lightly on her chest as she straightened her back.
Farron chuckled. “Yes, my lady is very graceful indeed.”
Her ability to restrain herself at that moment was truly impressive.
“Miss Claire?” Bren’s voice sounded from down the street.
Claire’s head turned towards the General. Aeron stood beside him with eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. Heat rose to her face and her stomach sunk in embarrassment. Hopefully he didn’t get the wrong idea.
“What are you two doing here?” Aeron looked around as they approached. A grin touched his face as he examined the stores that lined the street. “My lady, I was surprised when you suddenly disappeared. If you really wanted to look around here, you could have just asked. We would have gladly accompanied you.”
She threw a glare at Aeron. Now was not the time.
“Miss Claire, you had us worried. Please don’t do that again. Especially in such a town…” Bren drifted off, averting his eyes to the ground.
“Of course, General.” She forced a smile. Sanre was yet another town full of fond memories.
Bren had been quiet for most of the day and seemed distant. Did he regret last night? Claire tensed as she walked along the dirt road leading out of Sanre, trailing behind the others. Maybe he’d gotten the wrong idea earlier. It wasn’t exactly the most innocent looking of situations. She looked up at the man, who walked a few paces ahead of her. It couldn’t hurt to at least clear the air.
“Bren,” she called as she jogged to catch up to him.
He stopped and turned. “What is it, Miss Claire?”
“About earlier.” No beating around the bush for this girl. They resumed walking, their pace slower.
“It’s alright--”
“No, it’s not what you think,” she said.
Bren stopped and took her hand in his, the look in his eyes solemn, his shoulders stiff. “I understand, Miss Claire. Bad habits are hard to stop.”
Words caught in her throat as her hope dropped to the ground. She waited for him to tell her that he wanted to forget about the night before. Her imaginary husband would be relieved, at least.
“Which just means I’ll have to try harder.” He brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on it.
She smiled up at him as relief spread through her. It was the best news she’d heard all morning. What could a girl say to something like that?
Lunch was filled with another practice session with Bren. He’d replaced Aeron’s sword and agreed not to damage it again, offering to replace it again if he did. Claire collapsed to the ground with her legs stretched out in front of her, her back against a tree. Sweat dripped
down her skin and her breath was heavy from exertion. Bren may act like a gentleman, but he sure was relentless when it came to training.
“So tell me, General.” She took a long swig of water from a canteen. “Do you not value the institution of marriage?” she asked, emboldened by her new persona.
He knelt down beside her. Sweat glistened on his forehead. His brown hair was pulled back into his usual ponytail. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled halfway up his arms, the buttons at the collar undone, hinting at the flesh beneath. Grey eyes gazed down at her like clouds before a storm.
Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him. How could she be so lucky?
“Of course I do. But I also believe people should follow their hearts. Do you not agree, Miss Claire?”
“Indeed I do. There’s also duty and obligations, however. Every child wants to please their parents.”
His gaze shifted to the ground. “I’m sure they do.”
Claire hesitated, her mouth dropping open slightly. She’d almost forgotten that he’d lost his parents at a young age. “I’m sorr--”
“Miss Claire.” He raised a hand to her cheek, his fingers brushing lightly across her skin. “Please don’t make me feel any guiltier than I already do.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.
Shivers ran through her body. Such a light kiss had such a big impact.
16
Claire slipped the black undershirt back over her head, her skin still moist from a quick bath in a shallow creek. Just because her clothes were dirty didn’t mean she had to be.
She grabbed the purple shirt hanging on a low branch and made her way back up the bank, refreshed from the cool water. A smile crept across her lips. Both Bren and herself had shot Aeron down when he’d offered to help scrub her back. It was nice to know neither of them gave up.
