Chapter 6 #2
The barkeep named Abbad eyed Raphael up and down, and his scowl lifted. “Fancy that. We’ve got a legend here.” He leaned onto the bar top. “Madness, what happened at the end of it all, eh? I hear She vanished in a blaze of hellfire—the work of a witch, no doubt from the Outlands.”
“Do you happen to know the quickest route to the Joseon stables?” Raphael said.
“What was the Artist like?” the hairy man asked. “Did you ever speak with him?”
“Another round. We’re celebrating.” Abbad sent the hairy man scurrying off, then winked at Raphael.
“You’re paying. We all know you’ve got the coin.
” He let out a hearty laugh. “If you ask me, you’re the real winner of the tournament.
The Sovereign’s Choice—that’s exactly when I’d want to go.
Get the coin, get the glory, and get the fuck out.
Live the rest of your life as you please.
” He nudged Raphael’s shoulder. “Go on then. What’s it like?
You must be drowning in cunt these days. ”
“I’m really just looking for the Joseon stables.”
“Why would you want to head there anyway?”
“I’ve inherited a great deal of coin. Figured it’s time I invest in a proper steed.”
“Lies. He’s surely headed for the Siliassan courtesans.” The hairy man returned, a pitcher in hand. “They’re the finest in all the south.”
“Ah, I see.” Another laugh, and Abbad pounded the bar top. “Bet you’ll be doing a whole lot of mounting and riding, eh?”
That was enough. Leila turned from the window, wiping Her dirtied hands down the front of Her cloak. Filthy—She had been right about that. Tobias was watching Her, and despite his cowl, She could tell by his eyes that he was smirking.
“Very discreet,” he said.
The door swung open, and Raphael tromped outside. “I have good news and bad news.”
Leila hurried toward him. “What’s the good news?”
“We can reach the stables by sundown.”
“And the bad news?” Yucana asked.
“We have to cut through town.”
“No.” Tobias began unhitching his horse, ready to abandon the topic. “Absolutely not.”
“The alternative is circling the outskirts and arriving in two days’ time. Maybe a day and a half.” Raphael glanced back at the watering hole and lowered his voice. “That’s far too long to be in the open.”
“And passing through town isn’t in the open?” Tobias hissed.
“Maybe the town will be barren.” Naomi’s hopeful gaze darted between the two men. “No hustle, just empty.”
“It’s the nearest town to the southern trading post,” Raphael said. “It’s never empty.”
Tobias pointed to Leila. “You may have failed to notice, but Leila glows.”
“She can cover up. Look at Her now. You can barely tell.”
“Can we please refrain from speaking of Me as if I’m not standing right here?” Leila said.
“We were discovered once already. No doubt more soldiers are on our trail.” Raphael’s voice softened, solemn in a way that stirred Leila’s gut. “We can’t afford two days. It’s a risk we may not survive.”
Tobias’s eyes narrowed. “And you somehow believe marching through town in front of however many people is a lesser risk?”
“It’s a bold plan—”
“You mean stupid.”
“They won’t expect it. That alone will rid us of their pursuit.” Raphael gestured at Tobias’s cowl. “We hide your face, Her glow”—he cocked his head Leila’s way—“and make our time there as scarce as we can. The populace will be our cover. But we must decide now. We’re far from town as it is.”
Tobias stroked his chin, grumbling profanities. Sighing, he turned to Leila. “It’s Your call.”
Her stomach sank. Another horrid decision to be made with even more horrid options at Her disposal. She gnawed at the inside of Her cheek, Her mind tossing and turning every potential misstep and the various ways She and the others could find themselves skewered on a spear.
“The woods aren’t safe for us any longer. That much is clear.” She pursed Her lips, juggling Her conflicted thoughts. “Raphael’s plan isn’t exactly desirable, but if Tobias managed to keep himself hidden in the capital, I’m sure we can do the same today.”
“And Your skin?” Yucana said.
“If I could hide My title throughout the tournament, I can certainly do it again now.” Leila caught Tobias’s gaze and wilted. “Soldiers will expect to see you and Me together.”
“Surely you don’t plan for us to separate?” Naomi said.
Tobias’s eyes danced over their party before landing on Leila’s. “You’ll ride with Naomi. Mother and I will take the stallion. Raphael—”
“Alone.” Raphael nodded. “I got it.”
“We stay together,” Tobias continued. “With this arrangement, we’ll be far less conspicuous. Hopefully.”
Hopefully. Leila swallowed hard, starkly aware of the waver in his voice.
They shuffled places like cards in a deck, Yucana moving to Tobias’s and Leila’s black steed while Lelia and Naomi claimed the bay mare.
Raphael had suggested Leila take the rear, that Naomi could shield Her glow, but Naomi was much too tall, so Leila took to the front while Raphael strapped down Her new riding partner’s legs.
The Savior of Thessen, on display for an entire town to see.
The reality of their looming task rattled Her bones, threatening to steal Her nerve until Tobias placed the reins in Her hands.
She rubbed the hard leather between Her fingers and exhaled.
It didn’t matter that She had no scope of Her realm, that the journey before them was a mystery at best. In that moment, She held some semblance of control, and that was enough to bolster Her.
The town materialized within seconds of their trek.
Raphael said otherwise—that hours had passed, that they’d taken two stops to relieve themselves and feed their horses—but Leila wasn’t so sure.
What She did know was that uneven plaster buildings stood in a cluster in the distance, and She wasn’t remotely prepared to reach them.
“Are we ready?” Raphael waited for a response that never came. “Good. Let’s make haste.”
He trotted straight toward the bustle and noise, not a second thought or glance behind him.
Tobias and Yucana followed, and soon only Leila and Naomi remained, Leila’s hands gripping the reins like a lifeline.
She pulled Her hood low over Her head, a paltry cover, until Naomi slung a burnt orange shawl over Her chest, weaving it around Her neck and shoulders.
“You’ll do great,” Naomi whispered.
Leila’s face flushed. She clicked, guiding the mare down the dirt road and leaving the foliage behind them.
She was right about the architecture. Brown, beige, and ocher shops with roofs of red tiles or straw and reeds stood in long straight rows.
And Raphael was right about the people—nothing was empty, certainly not the road.
They dashed in front of Her, sending Her horse jerking, stalling, trotting, stopping, as merchants scuttled by with baskets on their hips and carts of fruit or pelts tottering behind them.
Some barked or cursed at one another, while others wore vapid expressions, their minds seemingly far from their goods in hand.
Leila had studied trade in the palace, had read plenty of scrolls about economics and international relations.
Never had She imagined it’d be so melancholy.
A cart pulled by a donkey clonked by, loaded with children who giggled with each bounce and bobble.
Leila would’ve smiled had it not been for Her ever-present dread.
Between Her dress, cloak, and shawl, She was burning up in the thick summer heat, but at least She wasn’t glowing.
She wanted to praise Naomi’s thinking, but She remained rigid atop the mare, eyes darting between the back of Tobias’s hooded head, the foreign sights around Her, the people.
The road split in two directions, and Raphael headed to the left.
To the right stood small clay . . . huts?
Cottages? Everything was so unfamiliar, and She cursed Her naivety.
She had never been in a town before, and somehow that realization hadn’t hit Her until that moment, as did the disappointment.
Not a single trace of marble or etched columns, not one courtyard or stoa.
Everything and everyone were awash in the colors of the dry land, save for the occasional noble in bright white linen or purple and blue drapes.
Their golden baubles and sparkling jewels caught the sunlight, a stark contrast to the shirtless laborers in grey harem pants and stained skirts, sweat dripping down their backs as they lugged wooden carts.
How could they walk alongside one another so casually, no care to the contrast?
A nearby door burst open, almost spooking Leila’s horse.
A man tottered out, collapsing along the road, and soon another man was on top of him, pummeling his nose.
He shouted about an unfair price for fish.
Were they even close to water? Leila glanced toward Tobias, then Raphael—no reaction.
Maybe that sort of thing was normal. Perhaps it was good, a distraction to take away from Her presence, but that thought alone was enough to leave Her tense all over once again.
“Kovahr.” The word left the lips of passersby, but She couldn’t catch the details.
“Kidnapped. Treason.” They were speaking of Her and Tobias, and Her heart raced.
“The queen left in a hurry,” they said. Did the Kovahrian queen know about Brontes’s plan to frame her realm?
Had Brontes already begun to taint Kovahr’s reputation?
Naomi gave Leila a squeeze. Perhaps she could feel Leila’s stiff muscles, or she could hear the conversations much better than Leila could, or maybe someone had recognized them.
Leila’s breathing became shallow. It was far too hot, and dear God, how large was the town?
Surely they’d already trekked a hundred miles, if not more.