23. Nora
23
Nora
T he ground punched my lungs, knocking my breath into view of the gray afternoon sky above.
The bastard tripped me.
I lay still, alternating between gasping and coughing. So embarrassing. Odion gave a hearty chuckle to the sky, a hand over his round, firm belly.
“You leaned all your weight on your right side. I’m much bigger than you. Chances are any opponents you face will also have that advantage. You’ll never be strong as an oak when your ankles are thin as a baby birch. Balance has to be your constant companion.” He extended his hand as a peace offering.
He pulled me to my feet, and I stretched my arms and neck. My body had been sore from the altercation last night, but this was going to destroy me by tomorrow. I wanted to brag that the man from last night never knocked me on my ass, but that would lead to questions. Odion would probably refuse to keep training me after that.
“I didn’t expect you to take me down. I thought you were teaching me defense positions,” I essentially snarled, still bitter about the loss. A gentle breeze blew by, a balm against my heated skin as the faint scent of fire and ash clinging to my hair from last night carried on the wind.
I thought about Sharla and Sverik. Upset they’d gone through that at all, but proud as hell for being there to stop it from going further. We still had no idea where the kidnappers were taking our people, but with no one ever returning, I’d bet it wasn’t anywhere good.
Odion projected his bottom lip and shrugged his husky, broad shoulders. “What better way to learn to keep up your defenses?” Odion moved to the weapons rack and shelved his sword, not one ounce of guilt weighing him down.
“Are we done?” I didn’t hide my disappointment. Ending on a loss wouldn’t maintain my high spirits from last night, a much needed distraction after departing from that seer’s presence.
The prince’s ball was next week, just a few days away really, and with my meeting tonight, the burden of it all weighed heavy. That asshole prince had the nerve to arrange for women to throw themselves at him while good, decent people like Sverik and Sharla had to live in constant terror after their ordeal. And the prince would do nothing about it. My blood heated another degree at the thought.
“Yeah, I need to call it early today, I’m afraid. With my hours being limited in the evenings, I have a few tasks left to finish today.” At the water barrel, he splashed the sweat from his brow and neck.
I strode near him, sheathing my daggers. “Limited hours? But you run your own business?”
“Yes, well, I may be my own boss, but I still answer to the Crown.” He toweled off his ebony skin.
“The Crown? They’re controlling your business? They can’t do that. Can they? Why is—”
Odion cut into my snowballing tirade. “The guardsmen have requested all shops along the strip close operations early. Say it’s for public safety.”
The fire behind my eyes roared. If I had Sverik’s ability, I’m sure I’d set this whole forest clearing ablaze.
If I had Sverik’s ability, I wouldn’t just stop there. That mystery ship in the night would burn, and so would the castle. My fists clenched so painfully I thought my nails might bite into my flesh.
So the guards were admitting they were well aware our people were in danger, no longer outright ignoring it, yet they’d rather place limitations on hard working people than get off their asses to help?
That level of audacity sent my mind whirling. Faster than I could blink, I turned on my heels and stormed away from Odion’s property.
“Woah, do you not want me to walk with you, girl?” he called after me.
“I have somewhere to be,” I snapped, not turning back.
Alejo and Gregory took me through the back alley, behind a string of shops on one of South Harbor’s streets. Not many ventured back here, unless they were workers taking out the trash or drunks using the secluded lane as personal urinals. That traffic only became heavy at night, but even though the sun was nearly setting, the stale smell of piss clung to the stones and the dirt. I pinched my nose, grimacing until we headed down a set of stairs into one of the shop’s cellars.
Gregory grabbed a lantern from the table inside the doorway that held a collection of them. He lit it, and we followed him down the shadowed hall, passing racks of plants and herbs. Whatever these were clearly thrived in cold, damp, dark environments. If I didn’t know the shop upstairs was a glassblowing studio, I would have assumed it to be a florist. Looked like a mini jungle down here.
A twinge of shame wrung my heart when I thought of the glass studio. My mother would probably work there had she still been alive. That beautiful woman with a smile that could chase away any storm. Who saw the best in people and would never hurt a fly.
And this is what her daughter had become.
We passed a few doors until we reached a specific one. Gregory knocked in a coded pattern. A lock clicked before the door opened. There were about seven others in the small room, using stacked crates as seats, or standing with their arms folded. Limited lighting obscured most of their faces, which I was certain was no accident.
“Who’s this?” the woman who opened the door asked, her glare sizing me up from my toes to my head.
“Our newest recruit,” Gregory said with a smile and chipper tone that conflicted with the nefarious state of all this.
“You vouch for her?” the woman questioned, my presence almost causing her anger to stir.
“I do,” Alejo said.
I gave him a grateful glance before we forced ourselves to fit inside the cramped space and the door shut behind us, the lock once again sliding into place. More plants adorned the limited shelves along the walls.
“Who tends to all these plants?” I asked, hoping to break the ice as a stranger amongst friends.
An awkward silence, one that extended for nearly a hundred years it felt like, engulfed the room.
“How Dee finds the time, or the care, is beyond me,” Alejo commented, shaking his head with a tilted smirk toward the woman who looked to be in charge. “They don’t even have much use. Hard to care for, and useless for flavor.”
“Enough. Continue with your update,” Dee said, cutting off Alejo from jabbering on and returning her attention to another.
“They’ve already hired services for a ball,” one man said, keeping his face angled down so his flat cap offered anonymity. I gathered that they’d begun their talks before we’d arrived, and I hoped we hadn’t missed anything important.
The air was swollen with dust and tension. The kind of tension that naturally partners with risky exchanges that have grave consequences.
“There hasn’t been an official announcement saying what the following event will be, but that’s our next best chance,” the woman who had let us in, Dee, chewed on her thumb knuckle, staring off in thought at no one in particular. “I’ve tried sending scouts to gain employment within the walls, but with the queen search going on, they’re focusing their resources on outsourcing for that instead of regular maintenance. If we had a way in…”
“I have one,” I offered, speaking before I’d truly thought it through.
Frosty gazes settling upon me chilled my skin.
“Speak,” Dee said, propping her hands on her hips.
“I’ll be attending the ball. I can make conversation with the staff under the guise of excited curiosity. Maybe they’ll know of the plans for the future events.” I glanced at Alejo, and he gave an approving grin.
“And why would they talk to you?” The flat-capped man fixed his judgmental stare on me.
“Surely the staff are buzzing with excitement over the search for a queen. They’d love to have an outside ear to gossip with. If not, I’ll bond over the fact that I hold a position similar to theirs. Serving staff stick together.” Not letting him dismiss my value, I held my chin high.
He contemplated for a moment, eyes darting between me and the woman in charge. After biting on his lips and cheek, he gave her an accepting nod.
“Be discreet about it. I want to know every single detail you hear. Confirm with multiple sources. An opportunity like this only comes around so often, we can use the busyness to our advantage.” She let her eyes soften from a harsh, scowling gaze. I could see her debating to accept me as one of their own. “What brings you here?”
Opportunity reared its head. They questioned a newcomer in their midst—understandable. Every person in this room would have meaningful reasons as to why they were here, willing to stand against the Crown. By sharing mine, I would prove that I’d blistered alongside them. Felt the pains of an oppressing hand, and reached the same conclusion they had.
“I hate the Crown. I suspect my father is dead because of them. They do nothing to aid our squalor, or care that we go missing and starve in the streets. The prince has had his opportunities to help, and he’s chosen to go against us. Now, it’s our time to go against him .” I tried not to let my rising anger rattle my vocal chords.
A combination of rage, disbelief, and honestly, fear, clawed for first place. Never had I expressed these thoughts as a collective. Sure, I’d make jabbing remarks and huff when someone brought up the prince’s name, but this was like cutting open a vein. Bleeding out all of my bitterness and resentment for everyone in this room, something that would forever stain.
This was treason of the highest order. Talk of infiltrating the castle, of eliminating the Prince of Highcrest. By even stepping into this place, I’d associated myself with these people. Yet, standing in the shadows with strangers, I could feel the embers catching. A light of hope dawning over the horizon.
I didn’t have to clean up my crimson mess, or make excuses for it. These were injured souls who’d also bled. I didn’t know their details, but I didn’t need to.
Scrutinizing eyes softened to show understanding. Even the flat-capped man flashed something like agreement at my admission.
The musky storage room air suddenly became easier to breathe. Almost as if cosmic intervention supported us here, it felt like the tides were shifting direction, the possibility of history being changed by plans made in this very room. Hope for real change.
If the Crown couldn’t adequately take care of its people, we needed to tear it all down.
A vision of my future most likely held homelessness, battling hunger, and begging. An early death would be a mercy, especially if it forever changed the fate of Highcrest.
Whether I would get caught or not, this was worth dying for, and I stood amongst others who were willing to share the punishment in order to get the reward.