Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
The wind whips my hair across my face as Merlin flies down the dirt path leading out of town, my tears flying behind me as the rushing air pulls at them.
There’s one person who will know exactly where to find Hazel.
I went to the old blacksmith’s forge before I remembered what Rylan told me yesterday.
I pull on Merlin’s mane, slowing him down as we reach the golden fields of wheat that make up Mr. Nash’s farm. It is beautiful on a summer evening, the sunset rippling across the fields, painting them a different colour every night. But this morning they’re simply gold.
A path leads down the middle of two fields, leading straight to the small house that is nestled right in the middle.
Merlin trots down the dusty path until we reach the house, making our way around the side until we find the stables. Mr. Nash and Rylan are standing right outside.
I let out an exhausted breath when I see him. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he wasn’t here.
“Rosie?” He drops the cowbell he was holding into Nash’s palm as he strides over to where I’m sliding off Merlin’s back.
He must see it on my face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Hazel.” My voice comes out shaky. “They’ve got her.”
His eyes widen and his nostrils flare. He grabs my hand before turning around. “We good here, Nash?”
“We’re good, son.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Let’s go.”
He doesn’t waste a second before he’s pushing me up onto Merlin’s back and pulling himself up behind me. He digs his heel into the horse’s belly and wraps his arms tightly around my waist.
Merlin doesn’t hesitate before taking off back down the dirt path, and I don’t have to spur him on. It’s as if this horse can read my mind, like he can feel the urgency in my heartbeat.
“What happened?” Rylan says in my ear.
I just shake my head. “I have no idea. I went to take supplies to her house, and they were hauling her away. I thought you might know where we can find her.”
“I know where she’ll be, but we have to be careful.”
We pull Merlin to a stop on the outskirts of the town square, letting him graze in between the trees. I would tie him up, but I didn’t bring his lead.
“This way,” Rylan says as he tiptoes along the edge of the forest. I follow close behind him, my hand instinctively finding his.
I try not to think about how perfectly they fit together, or how Rylan didn’t have to think about whether to help me when I showed up at Nash’s farm. He just did.
I try not to remember the way he looked at me in that lake yesterday, or how it felt to have him tell me he believed me when I said that Finnick is alive. But the warmth of his palm against mine is a constant reminder. He is good.
“There,” he says, crouching down. I follow his line of sight to see a square stone building erected right at the edge of the forest, behind a large house I’ve never paid attention to before. We are right at the edge of the town square, these buildings hidden behind others.
“That’s the jail?” I ask, even though it is obvious with the small open windows at the top of the walls, metal bars across them, and the two shields who are standing watch right outside.
“Yes. Right behind the mayor’s residence.”
My eyes cut to Rylan beside me. “That’s his house?” He just raises his brows in answer.
I never gave much thought to where Mayor Hawthorne lived, hoping it was a hole in the ground somewhere out of town, but he’s right here. Right where he can watch everything and everyone.
“If they’re keeping Hazel anywhere, it’s this cell on the end,” he shuffles sideways, as if trying to get a better view of things. “It’s the only one I’ve got finished. I’ve been trying to put it off as much as possible, working as slowly as I can.”
A spark of pride flares in my chest at how Rylan seems to care for this community like he grew up in it. “I bet Collingwood simply loves you for that.”
He shakes his head. “He can threaten me all he likes. I’m doing the work. I’m simply not being efficient about it.”
I shake my head as my ears lift before I remember where we are, and what we are doing. Reminding myself how much is at stake here. “What is your plan?”
“Well,” he tips his head. “No doubt Barton will be bragging about exactly what he has planned for her, so we start with finding out what she knows.”
The sick bastard probably laid it all out in front of her on their ride from her practice to here.
“Okay,” I nod. “And then what?”
“We will figure out our next steps once we know what they’re planning.
” He turns to face me, cradling my head in his hands.
“If I can distract them, can you talk to Hazel? Find out everything they have said to her—if she is going to have a trial, what she’s even been accused of and if anyone else is involved. ” He gives me a pointed look.
I nod frantically, my heart pumping in my chest at the serious look in his eyes. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Okay,” he nods, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes flit between mine, as if he is committing them to memory. The look in his eyes has me more worried than I was before.
“Rylan,” I breathe.
He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Be careful.”
“You too,” the words barely slip from my mouth before he disappears.
I let out a long breath, attempting to rid myself of the swirl of emotion that tumbles in my belly. I need to focus.
I stay low as I watch the two shields talking while they guard the cells. They look relaxed, at ease. I hate it. I try to imagine these men’s lives. Do they have wives? A family? Is this the best way they can provide—by killing in the king's name?
I’ve never seen his face, King Wyndbrook. I’ve only ever heard stories about him. But part of me wonders if he has a darkness in his gaze, or if he is so convincing with an amiable smile and an assuring head nod that people want to work for him. They believe it is for good.
I hear shouting, and the shields do too, because suddenly, their relaxed manner switches to straight backs and eagle eyes as they run towards the noise—the distraction.
I carefully step out of the woods, looking left and right, making sure no guards are left behind before I’m running towards the building.
“Hazel!” I whisper through the window just above my eye level. I wrap my fingers around the bars that are caging her in, the bars wielded by Rylan’s own hand. “Hazel, are you in there?”
“Everleigh?” I sigh in relief when I hear her voice, when I see the silhouette of the top of her head as she looks out the window. “Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Are you okay?”
Her hand finds mine, and she intertwines her fingers in mine where my hand is still wrapped around the bars between us. “As much as I can be, I guess, but I’m not sure for how much longer that will be true.”
“We are going to get you out of here somehow, okay?”
“I thought I heard you,” she mutters. “When they caught me, I—”
“I was there,” my voice wobbles. “I tried to get to you. I tried to help, but I—” I shake my head. But Silas stopped me.
The rage that coursed through my veins had me running through the forest faster than I’ve ever run before. The feelings of betrayal forced my feet faster and faster.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, her hand squeezing mine. “It’s okay.”
I sniff, letting out a breath and rubbing the tears from my eyes. “What do you know?” I ask, my gaze jumping around the building to check that the shields aren’t back yet. Rylan is one good distraction.
“Apparently, my trial is tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask. That doesn’t give us much time to formulate a plan. “What are your charges?”
“They wouldn’t tell me,” she says. “But they barely need a reason anymore, Everleigh. Nothing more than a suspicion, and Hawthorne has had it out for me since the day he killed Dunsmoor. Those shields have been poking around my place for days now.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “We are going to figure something out.”
“How?” she asks, but I can hear the sounds of murmuring voices approaching. I take a hesitant step back to see the two shields heading back this way. I’ve run out of time.
“I need to go,” I say. “But I promise you, Hazel, we will find a way.”
“I love you,” she whispers as I step away from the bars.
Tears flood my eyes as I say, “I love you too,” before I’m disappearing back into the woods.