13. Trying to Fucking Survive
13
TRYING TO FUCKING SURVIVE
WREN
T hree days have passed since I left Alba’s cottage, and I’m still in River Bend Forest. Gabriel never confirmed it, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.
If I didn’t know there were other towns and cities in Myreth, I’d be convinced this forest is endless.
The trees all look the same, with long trunks and bare branches. Very few leaves remain, a sure sign that winter is drawing near. The gurgling river to my left assures me I’m not going in circles. It’s been my guide for days, and I’m trusting that it will lead to a larger body of water. Maybe even the Sapphire Coast?
It's unlikely, but I’m hoping that might be the case. To be honest, I have to cling to what little hope I have left with all my might because, with each passing day, survival seems more and more unlikely.
Ducking beneath yet another branch, I huff as I continue forward. Always forward. I’ve hardly slept, my canteen is dangerously close to empty, and yesterday I ate my last piece of jerky. Even the blossom mushrooms I’ve foraged along the way haven’t been enough to sate my hunger.
My body feels like one massive bruise, and I’ve stopped using the blessed salve on my feet. They still hurt, but I don’t want to risk running out.
A few times, I heard voices carrying through the forest. Each time, I tugged up my hood and hid, praying to the gods that they wouldn’t find me. They haven’t yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. I’m acutely aware that I might be found at any moment.
Not only that, but over the past few days, I’ve found several pieces of evidence speaking to the presence of predators in Eskana’s forests. Claw marks on trees, fresh dung, and low, deep howls at night. Now more than ever, I’m acutely aware that I’m not the only one in the forest.
And then, there are the nightmares. The meager hours of sleep that I’ve been able to manage have been filled with awful dreams. Each time I fall asleep, I wake with a scream on my lips.
The Hunter is coming for me.
His warning is loud in my mind, and it’s the only thing I can think about. When my body is exhausted, and all I want to do is collapse and cry, I hear his voice in my head.
Run .
His command pushes me, urging me forward when everything else feels dire. And to be fair, there isn’t a single part of my life that doesn’t feel dire right now.
With every passing minute, the chances of the Hunter catching me and dragging me back to Grenbloom get higher than the last. I’m sure there are other Hunters after me, too, but it feels like I know Gabriel. That short time we spent together was nice… and now he’s chasing me.
Knowing his name makes this even worse.
Fear has me startling at every cracking branch, every whisper of wind, every fish jumping in the river, and every animal running through the forest. I’ve looked over my shoulder so often that my head might become permanently stuck in that position the next time.
The past few days have been a lot, but I woke up an hour ago, and something felt different. I wasn’t sure why when I started walking because I’m always walking these days, but now the trees ahead of me are thinning.
Is this…
Have I reached the end of the forest? I hurry forward until I can see beyond the trees.
“Oh, thank the suns,” I breathe, hugging my arms around myself.
I’ve made it out.
Beyond the trees, the sky is painted in beautiful streaks of pastel. The suns shine above rolling hills, where emerald green grass shimmers with early morning dew. A well-traveled dirt road cuts through the hills, leading to a city.
Placing my hand against the rough bark of the ancient oak beside me, I drink in the sight. This must be the city my brothers were talking about.
Two massive mountains rise on either side of a large valley, dipping into smaller ranges on either side that stretch as far as my eyes can see. Snow-capped tips vanish into the clouds, reaching for the heavens. The river I’ve been following widens as it leaves the forest, happily running alongside the mountains before disappearing out of sight.
Set in the valley, as though the mountains are watching over it, is the largest city I’ve ever seen. It must be at least twenty times the size of Grenbloom. A massive stone wall stretches between the mountains, and black blobs that are likely either Watchers or Enforcers patrol the top. Like the Hunters, they’re the king’s soldiers, and they exist to do his bidding.
Chills race down my back at the thought of them, and I pull my hand away from the bark, rubbing my arms.
Four towers rise above the city wall, one on either end, and two in the middle. At the base of the wall is an imposing iron gate the height of four men standing on top of each other. Despite the early hour, dozens of people and animals trudge down the winding dirt road towards the metropolis, along with several wagons and carriages.
I clutch at my arms, pacing back and forth in the grove of trees as I decide what to do. I had been planning on walking around the city, if I ever found it, but now I see that isn’t possible.
Logically, I could circumvent the city altogether and try to climb the mountains. That doesn’t seem like a great idea, though. For one, my resources are dangerously low. For another, I’ve never climbed anything taller than a tree. It seems foolish to attempt something like that for the first time while I’m running for my life.
Not only that, but the Hunter is probably expecting me to avoid people at all costs. That would be the smart thing to do in my situation. After all, I’m a gods-blessed with a glowing Mark, and I’m not wearing my customary garments. I don’t belong in a city crawling with people who could turn me in.
“Going in there would be the height of stupidity, Wren,” I mumble, trying to warn myself away from the dangerous plan forming in my mind.
The problem is, even though this plan—if I could even call it that—is risky, it’s also unexpected. It could give me an advantage over the Hunter. The faster I can get to the Sapphire Coast, the better.
I glance at the bracelet hanging off my wrist, running my fingers over the solitary sun.
Live, Birdie , Amelia whispers in my mind.
Her voice sounds so real that, for a moment, I wonder if she’s really there. I look all around me, but there’s nothing but trees and the city in the distance.
“Wow, Wren. That’s a new low.” Now I’m hearing my dead best friend’s voice? This is probably a sign that I’m losing my mind. It’s definitely a sign that I’ve been on my own for too long.
She’s right, though. I need to live, and if this gets me out of here, then it’s worth the risk.
I rearrange my curls over my forehead, adjusting the placement of my hood before emerging from the forest. Thank the suns, the impending winter means my cloak and hood shouldn’t seem out of place.
As I walk, I work on my plan. The city seems to stretch the length of the valley, which hopefully means there’s an exit on the other side. I’ll pass through the city, and with any luck, I’ll find a map vendor while I’m there.
The thought of knowing exactly where I am and where I’m going brings a smile to my face. It remains there as I keep my head down, joining the throng of people headed towards the city.
I can do this.
* * *
Burning suns, I can’t do this.
My confidence has all but melted away by the time the suns have reached the midday point. I’m still in line, waiting to get into the city, and I’ve been questioning all my life choices for the past hour.
Rivulets of sweat trickle down my back, my thighs are clammy beneath my dress, and the day is unseasonably hot. I shuffle along with the crowd, keeping my cloak wrapped around me as the looming city slowly draws closer.
The heat is unexpected, but it isn’t to blame for my rising panic. No, I have the people all around me to thank for that. I never used to have a problem with crowds, but that’s no longer the case. It must be a side effect of my new status as an outlaw.
My heart is a galloping horse, desperate to race out of my chest, sweat is gathering on my face, and my lungs are so tight that breathing is nearly impossible.
Someone up ahead shouts, their indistinguishable words lost to the wind. It doesn’t matter that I can’t hear them. It feels like they’re yelling at me. My body is so tense that walking forward is nearly impossible. But I do, because the Hunter is coming for me.
A few minutes later, an older woman with grey hair driving a donkey and cart ahead of me looks over her shoulder in my direction. Her gaze lands on me for a mere second, but in that moment, it feels like she’s ready to scream my secret to the world.
Not long after that, a man around my age bumps into my elbow as he passes me by, walking quickly towards the gate.
“Watch it, woman,” he grumbles under his breath, as if he isn’t the one who just ran into me.
Cold sweat gathers on the back of my neck, and my chest tightens as if he just cursed me to spend an eternity with Adros, the god of the Underworld. It takes me far too long to calm down enough to realize that the man is just an ass, and he isn’t going to turn me into the soldiers.
Even so, I don’t like the way he made me feel. Falling back, I settle beside a pair of young merchants and their entourage.
The merchants have dark skin, like my sister-in-law Yvette, and the fine cut of their clothing is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The men are beautiful, almost painfully so, and they speak to each other in hushed tones. Their ears are pointed, unlike my curved ones, and when one of them lifts his voice to direct a servant, the long, drawn-out way he pronounces his vowels catches my attention.
They don’t seem to care that I’m walking beside them, and I stay there until the individual bars of the iron gate come into view. My chest tightens. The soldiers aren’t just patrolling the top of the city wall. They’re guarding the city entrance, as well.
Four soldiers stand out front, stopping everyone walking in and asking them questions. Oh, suns. This isn’t just bad—this could be the end of my journey. Forget about making it to the Sapphire Coast. I don’t even know if I’ll make it through the gate.
My throat constricts, and alarm floods my veins. As if mocking my predicament, a familiar heat starts in my temple. Fucking hell, why is this happening now? The Mark only seems to burn when I’m dealing with a lot of emotions, which is gods-damned inconvenient. I don’t have time to dig deeper into it. The line is shuffling forward, and my mind is whirling, trying to think of what to do.
Why did I ever think coming here was the right move? This might be the worst idea I’ve ever had, which says a lot.
A rushing wind fills my ears, and I drop my gaze to my feet, trying desperately to think of a way out of this situation. There must be something that will save me from having to speak with the guards. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t come up with a single thing that will get me out of this situation.
I fall back behind the merchants and their servants. Anything to buy myself a few minutes.
My fingers twitch at my sides as they stop at the gates. I’m close enough to hear the tallest guard, a slim man with blond hair, ask where they’re from.
“The fae courts,” says the merchant on the left. “From across…”
I don’t hear the rest of their answer because the roaring in my ears is crescendoing. They speak with the guard for a few minutes before he steps aside, allowing them through. Their group disappears through the gates, and then the soldier looks up.
“Next,” he calls out, sounding like he wishes he were anywhere else.
That makes two of us.
Black spots cloud my vision, but somehow, my feet carry me forward until I’m standing in front of three very intimidating men and one even more intimidating woman. The soldiers are dressed entirely in black, save for the scarlet patches on their chests.
The king’s soaring eagle and twin suns seem to mock me, as if they know something I don’t. I quickly divert my attention away from the sigil, my eyes snagging on the closest guard’s baldric. A sword hangs from it, the steel gleaming as the suns hit it just right.
A quick scan confirms that all the guards are armed, and each weapon looks sharper than the last.
Gods help me.
My fingers twitch, and my empty stomach churns as the memory of the head priestess slashing Amelia’s throat flashes through my mind. My breath catches, and all I can think about is the crimson pool she landed in.
I’m not sure how much time passes before the blond guard growls, “Miss, I asked you a question.”
Shit. I’m not even inside the city yet, and I’m already fucking this up.
Biting my lip, I think back to the guard’s conversation with the merchants. What was the first question he asked?
A name.
I keep my gaze trained on the ground, willing my hood to stay in place as I give him the first name that comes to my mind. “Amelia Lockheart.”
Silence stretches, and I pray that my best friend will forgive me for using her identity. I should probably think of a fake name, since this is the second time this has happened to me, but that’s a problem for a later time. If there is a later.
Even though I’m not looking at the guard, I can feel his gaze crawling over me. It’s as though he’s trying to see into my very soul.
I fight the urge to squirm beneath his attention. Did he look at the merchants this long? I honestly can’t remember. I stare at the black tips of his boots, praying to the gods, the suns, and quite frankly, anyone who might listen that he doesn’t ask me to pull back my hood.
The longer I wait, the more likely it seems that the guard has figured out my secret. Do the king’s soldiers memorize lists of Marked Ones? Do they know Amelia’s name? My hands grow clammy. Have I inadvertently revealed myself?
Once again, the unknown is a millstone bearing down on my shoulders. Remaining calm and not letting my panic show takes every ounce of concentration.
Suns help me, this is bad. Worse, possibly, than when Gabriel saw my Mark in the forest. At least then, we were alone. Here, I’m surrounded by people. There’s nowhere for me to run, nowhere for me to go.
I’m trapped.
It feels like a century passes before the guard asks his next question. “What business do you have in Mora, Miss Lockheart?”
Mora.
It takes a moment for the name to click in my mind, but when it does, things start making sense. I’ve inadvertently arrived at Eskana’s capital city. Myreth has a capital—Rosebridge—but each province has one as well.
I should’ve probably made the connection earlier, considering the sheer size of the metropolis, but worry for one’s life has a way of making even the simplest facts difficult to process.
I quickly run through the facts I know about the provincial capital. There aren’t many, so it doesn’t take long. Why bother teaching a human sacrifice about the country where they were born? It’s not like I was supposed to be alive long enough to truly experience life.
Mora is the largest textile producer in the kingdom of Myreth. They import wool and yarn, like the products Alba makes, and export fabrics to be used all over the kingdom and sold abroad.
That information won’t be helpful, and I toss it aside. I am many things, but a skilled seamstress is not one of them. I can barely thread a needle without stabbing myself in the process, let alone sew in a straight line. Even James is better with a needle than I am. An ironic fact, Mother always said, since I was the one who often ended up with rips in my clothes, thanks to the many animals I rescued.
Mora is also home to some of the best breweries in the country. Again, it’s good to know, but it’s not helpful at the moment.
Despair is curling in my stomach, ready to set in, when I remember the third thing the provincial capital is famous for.
“I’m here to see the Moran Gardens,” I tell the guard, hoping he buys my lie. “I’ve heard all about them and can’t wait to explore them before the winter sets in.”
Keeping my eyes downcast, I smile demurely. Internally, I pray that the guards can’t hear the pounding of my heart in my chest. Each beat is a deafening drum in my ears as I wait to see if he bought my lie.
“The Moran Gardens are stunning this time of year.” His voice drops, and his boots move closer to me. Why is he advancing? “Are you here alone, Miss Lockheart?”
I nod, because what else can I do? He takes another step towards me, his hand landing on my arm.
He’s touching me. Why is he touching me? Does he suspect I’m gods-blessed?
My heart seizes, and my breath catches in my throat as the guard leans in close. He smells of musk and sweat, and I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose and yank my arm out of his grip.
His thumb… strokes my arm. “If you ever want an escort while you explore the gardens at night, you know where to find me.”
Oh. Oh .
Bile rises in my throat, and my skin crawls as his meaning sets in. I’m not an untouched virgin who has never enjoyed the company of others. When Amelia and I were eighteen, we asked Felix and Nolen, two boys who attended school with us, to show us the ways of the world before we were Given, but I have no desire for a partner right now.
Do all the single women who pass through the gates on their own get propositioned, or is it just me? Knowing my luck, it’s probably the latter.
As much as I want to yank my arm from his and make it clear how disinterested I am, I can’t risk angering him. The longer I stay here, the higher the chances that he’s going to stop me and force me to remove my hood.
No, I need to get through the gate as quickly as possible.
Swallowing my displeasure takes significant effort, but eventually, I calm myself long enough to look up and smile at the soldier from beneath my hood.
“Thank you.” I force the smile to remain on my face, even though it feels foreign. “I’ll… keep that in mind.”
It’s a blatant lie, but if it gets me through the gates, so be it.
The soldier holds on to my arm for far longer than what is considered appropriate before he releases me and steps back, joining the other soldiers. “Welcome to Mora, Miss Lockheart.”