Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
I heard the crashing waves before I saw them. The beach was near enough I should have been able to reach out and touch the water.
But how?
The sea was at the western edge of the earth, hundreds of miles away, and the only body of water I'd ever seen aside from those in a ratty old picture book was the murky moat sludge outside Alabaster Palace. But as I ran harder toward that magical sound, the ocean came into view. And, gods, was it grand. Deep blue crests bent like blown glass and then scattered into white froth across the sugary sand.
I took a quick glance up and down the beach and reached for the hem of my nightdress.
“If you go, I’ll go."
I turned to see a raven-haired man in his thirties a few yards behind me dressed in all black, a scabbard hanging from his lean hips. His face was all sharp angles and onyx eyes—scars faint but there, whispered across the bare skin I could see.
Danger, this was one danger incarnate. Like a predator and he was looking at me like I was…prey.
His eyes roved my body, crown to toe, as if he were drinking me in. Desire lit his features, a slow grin building across his lips that did not ease my concerns that he saw me as something to conquer.
I should’ve been afraid, but somehow, I wasn’t. "Do I know you?" I asked, unsure if he heard me over the whipping winds.
He nodded. "In a manner of speaking. But the better question is, do you know you ?"
I frowned. "Are you a ghost or something?" They were notorious for cryptic double-talk, after all.
Before he could answer, a bolt of lightning split the sky as black clouds rushed in. The dark stranger looked up and let out a low sigh. "As much as it pains me to admit, there's no time for swimming today. You need to open your eyes now, Harmony."
I followed his gaze to the ominous clouds. "Or I could just sleep some more."
"I wish you could." His face was filled with a longing that made my heart ache. "But you can’t finish this part of your story until you turn the page. Go on, now…Molly needs you."
"Stop! No, I said stop!”
Moll's shrill cries penetrated the haze of sleep that clung to me, and my lids popped open.
"Get your bloody hands off me!"
I rubbed the grit from my eyes and then reached down to pat Moll’s forehead.
“You’re alright, Moll. It’s just me. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”
She quieted instantly and burrowed her head into my lap with a sigh. She’d been out cold for at least a few hours, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure she’d be able to fall asleep after all she’d been through. Hell, I wasn't sure I would either, but apparently, we’d both managed, which was good. I’d need my wits…every bit of them if we had any chance of getting out of this mess alive.
Which made it even more annoying that I’d dreamt of him again. The dark stranger who spoke in riddles, and made my belly ache with a strange pressure that?—
Focus, Harmony!
The last thing I needed to be thinking about was a stupid dream when we were knee-deep in a fucking nightmare.
Once I’d realized there was no way we were getting out of Little Alabaster the night before, we’d circled back, taking another path to get a little more distance between us and the palace. Fetch led us to the forest as I did my best to cover our tracks on the frozen ground, all while trying to keep one step ahead of the shouting guards. By the time we’d come across a tiny hunting shack made of tightly crossed-hatched logs deep in the woods, we were exhausted and shivering.
The sudden and intense freezing rain that fell was a blessing and a curse. It would help cover our scents and maybe muck up the scene of the murder, but it left the hut even colder than it would have been.
We’d huddled together under a horse blanket, Fetch perched on the arm of a rickety chair.
Now, seeing the space for the first time lit by the early morning sun, I breathed a small sigh of relief. Hunting gear hung on hooks along the back wall along with a heavy flannel shirt, and some riding jodhpurs. Beneath the clothes sat a pair of massive, muddy boots that were too large to be of any use unless I was looking to trip and break my neck.
The plan that I’d begun to form last night looked weak in the light of day, but the clothes left behind by some hunter would help. I’d be able to get out of this too-small dress and head into Little Alabaster for some supplies for said plan without calling too much attention to myself. I’d need the stones we’d sewn onto her dress; they had some value and right at the moment, were the only thing I had for bartering.
First order of business, though? Making sure Moll looked nothing like Moll the next time anyone in this town saw her. Which meant a drastic make-under that she was going to hate with the fire of a thousand suns. I’d have to cut and dye her scarlet locks at the very least. Hopefully, she’d forgive me once we were on the other side of this and she’d had a chance to realize I was doing it to save her life, not ruin it.
Knowing her as I did, the trauma she suffered would be shoved down deep, and she’d focus on the fact that she was out of the running for any lord’s hand in marriage.
I still didn't know the whole story of what happened in the gardens, but the fact that both of them still had their clothes on when I found them gave me some hope that she'd stiletto’d him before he’d actually raped?—
“Harm?”
“Yeah, love?”
“I’m going to wind up swinging by the neck for this, aren’t I?”
Okay, so maybe this thing was too big to tamp down this time.
I’d looked at our problem from every angle before sleep had claimed me. I put the odds of us surviving this at less than twenty percent, and even that was generous. Any hope we had at all relied on us both keeping calm and quiet…
“Definitely not. You’re going to be fine.”
“I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him. He just wouldn’t stop, and—” She let out a little hiccup and I had to take a second to rein in my rage.
“Not your fault. He was an animal, Moll. You saved countless other women from having to live that nightmare. That makes you a hero in my book.”
That part was true. Every word of it. Now we just had to make sure our Moll didn’t go from “hero” to “martyr”.
“What are we going to do?”
I patted her and scuttled away so I could face her as she sat up.
“I have a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”
She blinked her bloodshot blue eyes at me and swallowed hard. “Does it involve you leaving me here alone? Because I’m feeling like it does, and that’s literally the only thing I don’t think I could handle right now.”
Panic had seeped into her voice as she leaned in and squeezed my hand hard enough to make me wince.
“We do better when we stick together,” she continued in a rush. “In fact, that’s exactly what you tried to tell me when I was planning to go to that stupid ball all week. You said, ‘Moll, you don’t need to do this. I know you want to get us out of this shithole, but if we stick together, we’ll figure it out eventually.’ And you were right, I was a fool to believe in happily ever afters, to believe a prince was a better deal,” she whispered urgently, her gaze pleading. “None of this would’ve happened if I’d listened to you.”
I couldn’t let her lingering terror from the night before sway me from the plan I had in mind. “But it happened. You did what you felt you had to do. You went to the ball because you wanted to take care of us.” I had to look away, my eyes tingling with unshed tears. “So now you have to let me try to take care of us, okay?”
“Right.” Tears leaked down her face. “I make the mess, and you clean it up…”
“No. No!” I tugged her chin up until we locked eyes. “ Heinrich made the mess. Never forget that, Moll. This wasn’t your fault. But people of his ilk don’t see it that way, so they’re going to be looking for someone else to blame. My guess is that Little Alabaster will stay on lockdown as they search—we can’t get back to The Hollow. Not yet. We’ve got to hide you in plain sight until we can figure out how to get over the Cradle. And the only way to do that is by making sure you look nothing like the woman who left the ball with Heinrich. I’ve got to go into town without you to get some supplies, which means you have to be brave and stay here. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Dead broke and with very little knowledge of the surrounding area, it’d be a miracle if I got back before sundown, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
A soft chortling sound caught my attention, and I automatically stuck my arm out for Fetch to land. He lighted on my forearm and worked his way up to my shoulder.
“Hey there, buddy. Did you sleep alright?”
The bird craned his neck to nuzzle my face.
“I’ll leave him here with you. That way you aren’t alone.”
“No,” Molly cut in, shaking her head. “You need to take him. We’ve no money, and he can maybe snag you a rabbit or nick something from a street vendor. He needs to stay with you. I’ll be alright.”
She stiffened her chin, but it wobbled anyway, and my heart broke and I reached for her.
“Moll—”
“Stop!” She drew back and held up a hand. “Don’t hug me or get mushy right now. I’m barely keeping it together as is. Probably best if you go anyway. That way I can have a proper come apart alone. Then, by the time you get back, I’ll be the old Moll. Ready for whatever comes our way.”
She cracked her knuckles and pinched one eye closed in the saddest little wink I’d ever seen. It didn’t stop her face from crumpling under the weight of her fear.
“Just…swear you’ll come back, Harm. Promise.”
I pushed myself to stand and reached out my free hand to help her up.
There was only one thing that could keep me from her, and in that case, I’d be too dead to feel guilty for breaking my promise anyway. So, I crossed two fingers over my chest.
“I swear.”
She studied my face for far too long, as if she was trying to memorize it.
I gave her hands a shake. “Cut that out. I’m going to be fine. I’ll be back before you know it. In the meantime, do not leave the shack for any reason—if someone comes close, just hide under the blanket in the corner. And don’t make any noise.” I reached down and hefted the lopping shears and rusty knife from the table and handed them to her. “If someone should come, and try to hurt you, or take you?—”
She nodded grimly. “Make sure I take a piece of them with me. Got it. What about you, though?”
I lifted the hem of my dress and gestured to the hilt of the dagger tucked inside my boot. “I’m all set. Can you pull the stones off your dress?”
With that, I made quick work of changing from my gown into the oversized hunting gear. It was large but once I’d tied the shirt at the back and tucked the jodhpurs into my shitkickers, I was off to the races.
"Good idea, you can maybe trade them for stuff, you think?" Moll reached down to yank the baubles off her dress, careful to pull all the threads away until all that was left was a mound of faux gemstones sparkling in her palm.
I took them with a nod. That was a good start. More than enough to get a pair of practical shoes for her and some clothes at the very least. I wasn’t sure what the value of goods were like outside The Hollow. I could only hope my stones were enough to get what we needed.
“Come on,” Moll said, waving a hand for me to turn around. She took my mass of curls down from what was left of the bun I’d fashioned to tuck under my wig and then pulled it into a ponytail. Her nose wrinkled as she plopped a dusty hat on my head for good measure, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. “There we go. You look totally different with dark hair and in that outfit, you easily pass for a stable girl or farmworker.”
I didn’t want to say goodbye. It felt too final. Instead, I popped off a salute and tried to keep my tone light. “Back in a flash with supplies. The rain barrel outside is full, so at least you’ll have water until I bring some food.”
With that, I headed out into the brisk cold, Fetch firmly latched onto my shoulder. I stopped to take my own fill of the icy rainwater. Then, I slunk away from the shack, straining to hear even the slightest rustle of leaves in the forest around me. As I navigated my way through the dense woods, Fetch lifted off and flew alongside me. I ran through the checklist in my mind.
First on the list, I'd need to get dye for her hair. As it stood, with her ripped dress and scarlet tresses, we were as good as dead if they found her like this—her for killing the king, me for aiding her. My plan was to find the seedier part of town to make a deal for some clothes as well as some less common items I needed. On the way back, I'd send Fetch ahead to hopefully score us a rabbit or something. If I managed all that, we might have a shot at surviving long enough to get us out of Little Alabaster with our heads still attached.
Relieved to have a plan—albeit a sketchy one—in place, I broke into a jog. If I had it right in my mind, the merchant center of town was just a couple miles north. When I got through the first mile without issue, I let out a long, shuddering breath. I'd half expected to get pounced on by a pack of slavering dogs right off the jump. For the first time since I’d seen Moll’s silhouette in the garden, an ember of hope flickered to life in my chest, thawing the hunk of fear wrapped around my heart.
Maybe we actually had a chance...
Time was not on my side, though. I hurried, sprinting until the smell of wood smoke tickled my nose. Slowing, I let out a whistle which sent Fetch circling back to perch on my hand.
"I think the shops and such are right past that copse of trees," I murmured, stroking the bird's head gently. "It's all about confidence, Fetch. We stroll out there like we belong, find the entrance to The Smudge, and call it good. Right?"
Right.
The falcon didn't look any more convinced than I felt, and it took me another ten minutes to work up the nerve.
"Ready, steady…” I huffed out a breath. “For real now. One, two, three…” I paused and cracked my knuckles one at a time. “On your marks, get set...ah, fuck it."
I grit my teeth and march toward the center of Little Alabaster, wondering if the twitch in my eye was visible to others, or just one of those inside jobs where only I could feel it.
You've got this. You belong here.
I most certainly did not, but I had to fake it just long enough.
The sound of low chatter in the near distance almost made me turn around, but I forced myself to keep going. Once I broke through the tree line, I didn't allow my steps to falter. I just made a beeline straight onto the cobbled streets and into a small crowd of people gathered in front of a pub. Only then did I slow, the blood rushing in my ears receding enough to hear but kept my eyes on my feet.
"I heard his chest was in ruins. Just a mess of blood and gore," one man said. "The girl stabbed him a dozen times or more. Bloodthirsty little thing, seems like...I guess that’s how women from Bryngarde behave."
The observation was just that. No censure or sadness in his voice. He was just stating the facts—or fictions, in this case—as he’d heard them.
"Yeah? I heard from the castle cook that she bit his ear off as well. And if the talk is right," the woman speaking dropped her voice low, "he deserved it."
Interesting.
I lifted my gaze from the street long enough to take stock of the people around me. Some looked like nobility, but there were also a fair number of merchants, traders, and other working folks. Well-dressed by Hollow standards but not dripping in wealth like so many at the ball last night. Judging by the expressions on their faces, not a one was a fan of the new king.
That was good.
Better than good. It meant that, even if the Crown was hellbent on finding Heinrich's killer, there was a solid faction of people in Little Alabaster that didn't care one way or another. And maybe even some who felt he'd gotten his due.
In short? Moll and I weren’t completely surrounded by enemies looking to see us hanged, which was a small relief.
I backed away and was about to start scanning the shops when one of the women, dressed in a smart, gray servant’s uniform, spoke up. The crest on her shirt marked her as a servant of some nobility.
"I'd better get going. Milady gave me exactly one hour to visit my dying mother this morning, and if I'm late getting back, she'll dock my pay."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked toward what appeared to be an ivy-covered wall on the other side of the street. Fascinated, I watched as she didn't veer off or slow down. She just strode straight into...and then through it. It shimmered and fuzzed, reforming a heartbeat later, none the worse for wear.
I jerked back, glancing around to see if anyone had seen what I'd just seen. Apparently either they hadn't, or weren't impressed in the least, because they'd already gone back to gossiping about the dead king. I cast my memory back to all the crazy rumors I’d heard about life in Little Alabaster in an effort to make sense of what I’d just seen, ticking them off in my mind.
Noble women here only wore a dress once, and then abandoned it to her closets, never to be worn again.
Homes were so large, they had as many bathrooms as they did bedrooms, and each had a soaking tub that could be filled with steaming hot water on a whim.
The men would go on hunts and sometimes just leave the kill for scavenging animals because they couldn’t be bothered to collect their spoils.
And the one that pissed me off more than any other?
Food was so abundant, there was actually a place behind the palace where the king and his nobles tossed what they hadn’t eaten so that it could be used to fertilize the soil later on. We did this in The Hollow too, except only with the inedible parts of foods, like eggshells, seeds, and rinds. But according to gossip, the one behind the palace contained finer food than most Hollow dinner tables. Sending it our way would make us feel entitled and serve as an annoying reminder to the wealthy that some people were starving out there, so they dumped it into The Rot instead.
Bastards.
But I hadn’t heard of a magical wall.
I took one more glance around, sucked in a deep breath, and then headed straight for—and then through—the fake wall with only a minor gasp on my part. Other than just a bit of resistance that felt like no more than a stiff wind, I felt nothing of the magic.
I took in my new surroundings with a frown. It wasn’t as bad as The Hollow, but nowhere near as nice as the rest of Little Alabaster. Muddy streets. Stores with crooked, worn signs. The familiar, if faint, whiff of sewage.
The Smudge.
Like most of the chatter about life here, I hadn’t thought about it much, you know, in the midst of surviving. It was just another place I never thought I’d see. The ‘wall’ I’d gone through was a magical projection of some sort to hide the eyesore on the other side of it. An illusion so that the betters weren’t forced to see how the other half lived. A place for their servants to be out of sight, out of mind.
I let out a snort, which Fetch seemed to mimic. “Fucking hell. Those in power really are ghouls, aren’t they?”
People in The Smudge bustled more quickly, not so much time for idle chatter here, their heads down as they hurried to wherever they had to go. I dove into the fray and made my way down the street. I kept my head down too, peeking up every so often to glance at the shops lining the street.
Harrod’s Meat.
Sewing Sundry.
Mabel’s Bathhouse.
Part of me wished I could afford to go inside that last one. I took a surreptitious sniff of my underarm and winced at the sour smell of fear mixed with moldy straw and a rank twang of old man sweat from the hunting shirt.
“Flowers, trinkets for a loved one…information…” a low female voice called. “Flowers, trinkets, information…”
Surely, it couldn’t be as easy as that?
I followed the women’s call and found a forty-something brunette seated on a rickety stool next to a flower cart. It was painted bright orange, the color of an autumn squash, and emblazoned with the words, Gayelette’s Ha’penny Boteek, OPEN Sundays 8-10 AM on the side painted in green. The cart itself held only a silver tray filled with cheap baubles and jewelry and three wooden barrels filled with blooms, but they were mostly deadheads or withered and brown.
“Hiya,” she said, flashing me a row of stained, brown teeth. She turned her head to one side, let out a stream of tobacco spit and then faced me again. “Posey for your Prince, lass?”
I drew back at the question, an image of Duncan Westerly flitting through my mind. It took a second to realize it was just a turn of phrase.
“No thank you! I was hoping for some…information, you said?”
“That’s one of my wares, yes.” She studied me so intently; I had to resist the urge to cover my face. “And I believe I can help you find what you seek. Ha’penny for one question.”
She held out a grubby hand and wriggled her fingers.
“I don’t have any coin. Are you willing to trade?”
She spit out another stream of tobacco juice and scratched at her sagging boob. “Depends. What have you got?”
“Semi-precious gemstones. Faceted and perfect for crafting fine jewelry.”
“Show me.”
I reached into the pocket of my dirty jodhpurs and fingered the stones, being careful to only take out three. Then I shook them into my palm and held it out for her inspection.
One brow rose high on her forehead, but other than that, she gave nothing away.
“Alright, then. One stone, one question.”
“Only one question for each stone?” I said with a wince.
“Yep.” She reached out and snagged the yellow citrine from my hand before I could close it. “That’s question one. Looks like you’ve got enough for two more, so think carefully before you speak this time.”
Fuck me, she was canny. I wanted to pry her hand open and take back what was mine, but the longer I spent here, the longer Moll was at the shack, alone, vulnerable, and terrified.
I was still contemplating my second question when Gayelette spoke, her expression softer than it had been a moment ago.
“I can see you’re in a bad way, and I’m not heartless. Just give me the squarish purple one you’re hiding, and you can keep the rest. I’ll tell you exactly what you need to know.”
I stared at her, mouth wide. How had she known about that one in my pocket?
She waved a hand at my face. “Be careful with that mouth open. The black flies around these parts are a whole lot worse than your usual type and you don’t want them thinking it’s an invitation.”
I snapped my mouth shut and replaced the stones in my hand for the cushion-cut amethyst nestled in my pocket. She plucked it from my fingers with a satisfied hum and stuffed it into her own pocket.
Before I could form my first question, she started talking. “You can purchase some cheap threads and shoes at Ginny’s cross the street. The blacksmith you’re needing is Smitty, four doors down from Ginny. As for the other…you’ll be wanting The O'Donnellys. They spend most of their time over at The Hoof and Saddle tavern on the corner at the very end of the road. They’re closed on Sundays but come back tomorrow and bring something of great value or find you some cash. When you get there, rap on the door three times, then two, then three again.” She held up both hands. “Be forewarned. What you seek won’t come cheap. Tell ‘em Gayelette sent you, that’ll get you through the door.”
Well, shit. She was a Whisper; she had to be. And a strong one at that. Far more powerful than any I’d ever encountered in The Hollow. That was the only way she could’ve known the questions I had without me saying them out loud. What really had my stomach churning, though…
What else did she know about me?
Her knowing eyes held mine, softening a little. “Don’t fear. I’ve got secrets of my own, dearie. Besides, I’m not in the market of sharing my customers’ private lives. Bad for business.”
“Thank you.” Her words settled my nerves some, but as I walked away, I knew the exchange would join the pile of worries weighing heavy on my mind.
“It won’t be easy, dearie,” she called after me, causing me to wheel around. “Just know this; You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and you have everything you need to succeed. Stop fighting every step of the way and open yourself to what the universe is telling you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and I could not help myself. I moved closer, pulse pounding in my throat.
“Open your eyes and you will see who to trust.” She held out a wilted red rose. “Open your mind to the possibilities of the gifts you possess. Open your ears and you will hear those who speak. Only then can you fulfill your destiny. And remember, pressure makes diamonds…but you already knew that, didn’t you?”
She shot me a wink as I accepted the flower in my numb hand.
“That there is the house. Now go on with you.”