CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE #2
If only she’d stopped at “we won’t cross today,” I might have enjoyed a moment of peace. Instead, visions of crumbling ice ridges, deadly frostslides, and relentless storms of snow began plaguing my thoughts.
“We’ll stop in Cobble Crossing,” Vayen offered. “They’ll have everything we need.”
“Delightful,” I said through the sweetest, most insincere smile I could manage. “Does this Cobble Crossing have baths and hearths? Perhaps a warm meal and copious barrels of drink?”
Vayen cast me a side-eye, the lowering of one eyebrow the closest she’d come to making a facial expression since I’d awoken. “They do, though I doubt ale-sickness will make for a more pleasant journey.”
“Interesting you should make that claim. Am I likely to remember the journey this time, or do you intend to keep putting me to sleep?”
Vayen avoided my gaze entirely now as she lugged saddlebags to Rummy’s side. “Lullawort,” she explained. “When we were outside of Grenythwood, I blew lullawort powder on you.”
“Lullawort,” I echoed, though I’d never heard of it before. “From Catrin?”
“It’s from her garden, but she didn’t give it to me to use on you, if that’s what you mean to ask.”
I didn’t know why I cared, and yet the sudden weight of betrayal that had threatened to settle on my chest dissipated quickly. Catrin wouldn’t do that to me.
I cleared my throat, attention flitting upwards in quick assessment of the time of day. “And yesterday?”
My guess was confirmed when she replied, “Yesterday, well… I suspected some of the lullawort still dusted my clothes, but as you can see, I’ve changed.” She gestured towards the leather vest and trousers. “I won’t use it on you again. I—I promise.”
Was Vayen… flustered?
My eyes narrowed as I assessed her lowered head and downcast features. So the woman did have a conscience of some kind lying about in there. I could use that to my advantage.
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” I clasped my hands before me, an expectant stance that would have felt more poised and commanding had my wrists not been bound together.
Vayen forced what appeared to be a very controlled inhale before retrieving a small purple pouch from her vest pocket.
She tossed the pouch into the air once, then twice, palming it each time with a satisfying thud.
The third time it landed in her hand, she reared her entire arm back with such speed her movements blurred, before launching the pouch deep into the forest.
I tried to follow its path through the air, but it disappeared in the blink of an eye. It took considerable effort not to let my jaw hit the forest floor.
“Happy?” Vayen called over her shoulder before turning back to Rummy.
“Quite,” I managed, though the high register my voice had reached belied my amazement.
To distract myself from the eventuality of having to actually ride on the horse, and not just sleep atop his back, I found a dry enough looking bit of rock and situated myself before speaking.
“So, your imbuement renders you immune to the effects of lullawort, does it?”
Vayen snorted as she fitted Rummy with a harness of some sort that I imagined would allow him to haul our bags without a saddle.
“Did I say something funny?” I asked, lips pursing.
“Not as such. Just surprised to hear that question coming from you. Almost sounds like you’re shedding that Lunamorian ignorance you’ve cloaked yourself with.”
Though I very much wanted her not to be, she was right. But that wouldn’t stop me from being contrary.
“Or perhaps I’m choosing to speak the language of the person I’m forced to converse with.” Weak, at best, but it was all I could think to say. As if she hadn’t bothered me, I pressed on with my inquiry. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” Vayen said, though she didn’t stop to look at me.
“Like the Hollows.”
With that, Vayen stilled. The suddenness of the shift in her demeanor, the way her hand twitched at her side, and the now-visible rise and fall of her chest were more than enough indication that I’d said something I shouldn’t have.
And then, suddenly, “No.” The single syllable was strained, tight. “You’d do best not to make the comparison again.”
I breathed through the tightness in my chest. I thought I’d wanted to upset Vayen, given… well… everything, but a wholly disparate feeling overwhelmed me. Regret, if I had to put a name to it.
Despite myself, I offered, “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“I know.”
“Not that you wouldn’t deserve it if I did,” I mumbled.
If it weren’t for the smallest twitch of the corner of her lip, I might have assumed she hadn’t heard me at all.
We had been riding for quite some time when Vayen broke the silence with a question she already had the answer to. Even still, her voice threaded through the whistling wind and the persistent trot of Rummy’s hooves as he pummeled the dirt beneath him.
“How are you doing?”
“Exceptionally well,” I squeaked out through the tension that constricted my throat. “Really, I’ve never been better.”
We both knew I was lying through my teeth.
If I could smell myself, there was no chance that Vayen couldn’t.
While she smelled freshly bathed, I did not.
While she rode comfortably in a natural position, my dress’s length and cut made that impractical, so I rode sidesaddle between her legs.
Was it still called sidesaddle when the horse was without a saddle?
If only Tilda could have convinced me to resume my riding lessons, I might have saved myself from this ridiculous display and known the answer to my question.
Further, I kept my head trained towards our front to avoid the queasy sensation that developed when I watched the trees pass us by—and to dissuade the natural inclination to rest against Vayen even more than I already had to—which was straining.
One of Vayen’s arms looped around my back, the other holding the lead almost in my lap, both of her limbs serving to stabilize me.
I welcomed her warmth against the forest’s crisp bite, but I did not welcome her breath ghosting my neck, or the unavoidable way my side continued to press up against her.
To make matters worse, with my hands bound, I could only adjust myself with her assistance, and so I’d been in a particularly uncomfortable position for longer than I’d have cared to admit.
And, finally, there was Rummy. Where he was concerned, I found little to be grateful for.
His amble did allow us to outrun the gases he loudly excreted from his massive behind, but the noise was startling.
I also had the growing suspicion that he could sense whenever I experienced a modicum of relaxation, for he would choose those exact moments to whinny thunderously, throw his head about, or stop entirely for no reason at all.
As if it wasn’t bad enough I’d been forced to ride a horse, it had to be one that I was certain harbored some sort of grudge against me.
“We’re nearly there,” Vayen said. “I’ll find a way to get you some pants, so you can ride more comfortably.”
I muttered, “How thoughtful,” with the air of an insult before resuming my search for signs of the nearby town.
Anything to take my mind off Vayen’s grip tightening around me.
Rummy had increased in speed, and her reaction was unbidden, strong fingers digging into my waist, steadying me where my legs could not.
I had fallen into something of a rhythm prior to Vayen’s question, and she had inadvertently drawn my attention to all of the aspects of riding this monstrosity that I’d been actively attempting to ignore.
She had stolen my focus, as she tended to do, and it was proving difficult to disassociate once more.
“Could you… could you keep talking, please?”
I doubted I would ever sound more desperate than I did in that moment, no matter how many days remained in my sorry life.
Honestly, begging one’s captor to soothe oneself?
I may as well have been scraping the bottom of an oak barrel for supper.
And when Vayen did not answer immediately, I scrambled to retract the request.
“Don’t bother. I only—”
“I was twelve the first time I visited Cobble Crossing,” Vayen began as though I hadn’t been speaking.
“My Aunt Sabina was planning to visit the tavernkeep. I think she knew him, from before. We’d only been in Grenythwood Village for a couple of years, and it didn’t quite feel like home just yet, so I wanted desperately to join her.
I’d begged day and night for half a season at least. I imagine now she’d planned to humor me the moment I’d asked, but took pleasure in the way I pestered her. ”
“Why would she take pleasure in something like that?”
“Because it was better than my not speaking at all.”
I could feel a chunk of my anger’s resolve crumble against the strike of her casually spoken admission.
I had every right to hate her, I reminded myself.
To seethe in my bitterness. Each time the ropes bit into my wrists, and Rummy’s scent wafted our way, and my lower back ached with the discomfort of my riding position, I could feel my anger swell.
I had every right. And yet an image of Vayen, still a child, her sad features peeking from a mop of dark brown curls, silent and buried beneath the weight of traumas both recent and to come—that painting flashed before my very eyes, and it squeezed my damnable heart as though I weren’t nursing a substantive helping of rage for the woman whose blazing skin warded off the cold.
The woman who holds you captive, I corrected as I steeled myself against competing emotions.
“Well?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. “Did it live up to your expectations?”
“Absolutely not. But it isn’t really a place for living.”
I hadn’t been particularly optimistic for my fate in Cobble Crossing despite finding the name somewhat charming, but any hope I’d had was solemnly squashed in that very moment.
“What is it, then?”
“Somewhere you pass through on your way to somewhere else. You’d be mistaken in thinking they named themselves after the Threshold appeared. No, it’s been a rundown village of seedy folk since the beginning, I’d wager. The only people who stick around are just too stubborn to leave.”
I puffed out my cheeks with an exhale, clinging desperately to her promise of bath and drink.
That was all I had now, considering I very much doubted the inhabitants of such a village would look twice at a young woman being held against her will.
If I was going to make my escape in the day ahead, I would have to rely solely on myself.
“The tavern isn’t much,” Vayen continued, “but it’ll do for the night. Nicer accommodations than what we can look forward to, anyway.”
Not as though I’ll remember it.
I pushed the sour thought from my mind, instead breathing deeply despite how strongly the air reeked of Rummy.
I saw no signpost to signal our nearing of this dismal-sounding village, but the road seemed much more traveled here.
Wheel ruts and hoof prints were visible even in the muddier edges seeping into flattened grass.
Thanks to the lullawort, I had slept soundly the last two days, but it was now vital that I had my wits about me.
The sands of Vayen’s hourglass were running low; autumn’s final cycle was upon us, and even without having to ascend a treacherous mountain, there were the trials that awaited on the other side.
Everything considered, I imagined our time in Cobble Crossing would be sorely limited.
I might only have one night to plan my escape, and it was imperative I be ready to seize any opportunity that presented itself, no matter how slight.
I wasn’t sure of our location in relation to the Threshold, but for all I knew, I could be thrust into that wall of fog as near as tomorrow.
There might not be another chance to outrun the haunting image of empty saucer eyes, and to retain my memories.
So as we rounded a bend and were met with weathered wooden buildings closely packed together, I moistened my lips and straightened my spine with newfound resolve.
Because I had no choice.
I would escape Vayen Videa if it was the last thing I did.