Chapter Seven
Aren
I stumble down the darkened street toward the familiar silhouette of the Raven’s Beak sign. The music from the revelry fades away; the village is empty, everyone is at the party, and only moonlight illuminates my path. I trip over the cobblestones, cursing every time.
When I finally manage to reach the Raven’s Beak, I hold on to a hitching post at the base of the steps for balance.
I frown at the darkened door, a reminder of everything at stake.
Fine, I decide. As long as my sisters are happy, I suppose marrying a lord and a general is enough.
Once they’re married, I can sell this place and get out of here.
I sway and almost fall before I can even take another step. What is wrong with me? I slap my cheeks, willing myself not to pass out, but my vision grows gray and tunnels in.
Something is terribly wrong. The wine at the harvest festival is never this strong. I only had one drink. So why is everything spinning?
Prickly chills crawl up my spine: I’m not drunk. I’ve been poisoned.
Blue-stained fingers flash in my mind. A hand pressed over my cup. The marquis’ smug face leering.
That lech dosed my drink.
I’ve studied herbalist remedies with Veteria like my mother before me, and it’s becoming clear that the marquis slipped me a dose of devil’s breath in my drink, a sweet-smelling, bell-shaped blue flower that can relax a person and aid in sleep—but which in sufficient quantity renders a person unconscious. But why on earth…oh no…
Bile rises up, and I lean over, willing myself to purge the devil’s breath still in my stomach. I need to get it out. I’m alone, at night. No one will help if…
The nausea passes, and I blink furiously. I can’t faint now. I must get up those steps to safety. I’m not the type to panic, but my breath is coming in shallow gasps and my heart is hammering. Heavy footsteps approach behind me. A shadow creeps closer in the moonlight.
Fuck! My heart slams against my ribs, my pulse a desperate pounding in my ears. My legs feel liquid, but I force myself to move, stumbling forward as dizziness warps the edges of my vision. The air presses down in as if the night itself is smothering me.
The heavy footsteps quicken. Closer. Too close.
I glance up the three steps to the front door of the tavern.
I’ll never make it. I release the post and stagger toward the dark alley at the side of the building.
Not a great plan, but I can’t just stand here as the poison overtakes me.
Thankfully, I still have enough sense to scoop up my shoe and throw it hard at whoever’s following me.
There’s a yelp, then a curse.
It’s the marquis. Of course it is. He easily ducks out of the way. I’m seeing double, I can barely stand, but I hold up my fists. “Get away from me, asshole!”
The marquis seems to grow larger and smaller. My vision is warping. I shake my head, fighting against the darkness. This is stronger than black market devil’s breath; he must have gotten it from some expensive herbalist with more power and knowledge than anyone in Evandale.
“You should have known your place,” he sneers. “Get her!”
From the shadows emerges one of his henchmen. I recognize him from the Beak. He grabs me by the waist. I flail, shrieking, and manage to punch him in the ear. Howling in pain, he slams me against the tavern wall. He may be slow, but he’s still stronger than I am.
The air rushes from my lungs. He slams my head once more against the hard wooden siding. I scream again as I try to get away, twisting and turning, and pull my arm back to hit him again.
But the asshole catches my hand and clamps down hard on my wrist. I whimper, fearing he might break it.
“Just wait till the prince finds out you’ve ‘left town,’” the marquis muses, an evil grin unfurling across his lips. “Once you’re out of the way, he’ll have no choice but to pick one of my lovely girls.”
This man must be living in a different universe to believe the prince is at all interested in me. But this is the marquis, after all.
The marquis’ lackey is taller than me, heavier, and I don’t stand a chance to escape, except he’s drunk, so I do what’s worked for me in past scrapes at the Beak.
Mustering the last of my strength, I drive my knee up and kick him straight in the family jewels.
He bellows, folding instinctually to protect himself from further assault.
I slip free. Run, run, I tell myself, but the darkness creeps in. I can’t see, I can’t scream, and I can’t make my legs move the way I want them to.
“Get her, you idiot!” the marquis squawks.
He’s closing in again, and I punch him straight in the chest, but I hit something as hard as iron and my whole hand stings. Harvest Mother, that hurt.
“You’re wearing armor?” I croak through numbing lips.
This coward is wearing a steel jerkin under his clothes, and I’m only in my thin linen dress.
Clarity strikes like a bolt of lightning, and I jab at his face, his eyes, but he turns his head just in time.
He smashes a kerchief against my nose and mouth, the sickly scent of the devil’s breath searing my throat.
He’s choking me, his fingers tightening around my windpipe.
I can’t breathe. Everything’s gray again, turning to black. I go limp. I can’t fight anymore.
Just then, a strong wind rises out of nowhere. The minion’s hand is ripped away, and an invisible force throws him head over heels, slamming him against the wall like he did to me.
I take huge gulps of unnatural, ice-cold air as the sky seems to crackle and hiss, taking on a life of its own. I fall to my knees, coughing and retching. My hands go to my bruised neck. What was that?
I check my surroundings to make sure the marquis is not lying in wait, but he’s been reduced to a heap of fine fabrics by an overturned cart.
But there’s someone else here.
A man pummels his fists into the toppled marquis, hitting him again and again with thunderous blows, illuminated by a flash of otherworldly lightning. The marquis yelps and curses, shouting, “Enough! Enough!”
But the stranger is relentless.
The icy storm howls and turns down the street like Boreas has returned, shaking the trees and rattling the shutters. A vortex of debris barrels toward us.
What the hell is happening?
I struggle to get to my feet, buffeted by the wind.
My entire body aches, every move eliciting some fresh pain.
I collapse on the cobblestones, but I can’t stay here.
I want to be as far away from this as possible.
Harvest Mother, I just want to go home. But I’m too weak to even crawl up the steps to the door as the storm roars all around me, and the sound of fists striking flesh echoes in the dark.
“Stop! Please! I’m begging you!” the marquis cries.
“If you touch her again, I will have your head!” the stranger roars, punctuated by a gust of freezing wind.
No… It couldn’t be…
All I can see is a shadow lifting the marquis by the collar before shoving him forcefully away. The marquis runs off, tripping over the shoe I threw at him earlier. His henchman scampers after him.
A wave of triumph invigorates me for a moment, but I’m still too weak to stand. Everything’s gone cold, and I’m shaking.
Now there are strong hands around me, pulling me upright. The stranger. He smells of moss and woodsmoke, of hearth and comfort. The icy wind is gone. He holds me in his arms, and I melt into them. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Come on now, don’t fade on me.” His voice is warm and kind. Gentle.
Hold on. I know that voice.
I fight to stay awake, but it’s no use. I claw at his shirt, but the darkness closes in.
“Third time we’ve met, and I still don’t know your name,” he murmurs.
The world goes black before I can give it to him.