Chapter 22
Leila
Two days locked in a damp cell rocking from side to side.
Two days of no sleep and an empty stomach, of agonizing silence and raging anxiety.
Leila assumed the conditions would drive Her mad before they ever reached port, so when a smuggler announced their arrival, relief swept Her like a rising tide.
She’d been all too eager to resecure Her rope bindings and hurry up the hold steps, wincing at the blinding sting of the sun.
She wrapped Her shawls tight around Her, shielding Her light while madly scanning the deck.
Tobias stood amid the other smugglers, his chest expanding with a deep breath when his eyes locked with Hers.
She hadn’t seen him the entire voyage, save for his brief and confusing bungle in the hold—She’d have to ask him about that.
He and Raphael headed Her way, and She fought the urge to wrap him in Her arms as he rested a gentle hand to the small of Her back.
“Stay close,” he whispered.
She did as instructed, alongside Enzo and Hylas, pointing Her face to the floor to avoid the sunlight. They filed across the deck to the gangplank with the other smugglers and slaves, and when it was Her turn to depart, She took in the foreign realm before Her.
Sandy beaches and clear waters—that’s what She had expected, a sight not unlike Smugglers’ Cove.
Instead, She was met with a port more cramped than the holding cell, packed with people pushing forward to no avail.
The coastline was rocky and manufactured, littered with barnacle-ridden wooden docks leading to stone pathways patchy with stains.
Something about the air was cool and heavy despite the early morn, and the buildings were uniform and devoid of color.
Leila hadn’t traveled much, but She’d never seen a place greyer.
Flecks of red dotted the endless stretch of people. Thessian soldiers were scattered across the port, and Leila’s empty stomach caved in on itself.
“Oh God,” She whispered.
Hylas took Her hand and squeezed it as they maneuvered down the gangplank much more reluctantly than She had anticipated.
She’d heard the smugglers’ chatter, had known to expect Brontes’s men, but the sight of them still chilled Her.
Soon, She was one with the sea of bodies, craning to peer over heads and shoulders and fighting for purchase.
Soldiers were stationed in front of paths and alleyways, some in red crested helmets, others in unpolished steel plates as grey as the realm they patrolled.
There were so many of them, more than Leila had ever seen in one place.
Even worse, every single exit was blocked.
She’d left one cage only to find Herself in another.
A Trogolian guard climbed atop the pedestal of a weathered statue, towering over the masses. He blew into a long horn, producing a piercing noise that sent the people to near silence.
“Travelers, take notice,” the guard said. “Our strong and noble king has extended his aid to the sovereign of Thessen from across the Atabi. From this day until the task’s completion, Trogolia and Thessen will work as one to locate their lost Savior and Her captor.”
Though She was hidden amid the masses, Leila couldn’t help but shrink, content to disappear.
“All of you must pass through inspection before entering our realm.” Shouting tore through the port, and the guard raised his voice. “No exceptions. Treat the Thessian soldiers as you would any guard of Trogolia. Heed their word or face swift and severe consequences.”
“Fuck,” Tobias growled.
“How do they know?” Hylas’s voice caught. “We didn’t tell anyone. How could they possibly assume—?”
“Quiet,” Raphael said. He cocked his head at the surrounding people, his meaning clear.
Leila gnawed at Her bottom lip. Someone must’ve warned Brontes, but who? She shook Herself. As desperate as She was for answers, it wasn’t the time. They needed to leave the port, and they needed to do it immediately.
“The guards.” Leila spoke softly, checking for listening ears. “How do we get past them?”
Enzo nodded decidedly. “I kill.”
Leila winced at his too-loud tone and elbowed him in the ribs. “The entire guard? In front of all these people?”
“All it takes is one.” Hylas’s eyes panned from soldier to soldier. “One guard falls, and we slip away.”
Leila’s back shot straight. She stood on Her toes, craning Her neck to peer past the throng. There—a soldier stood by his lonesome in front of an alleyway, hand resting atop the hilt of his sword. The crowd was thinnest near him, and the darkness of the path he protected promised discretion.
The path forward was starkly clear. She had a plan—it was reckless and stupid, but tempting the fates had become Her norm, and She was not about to die on the muggy shores of Trogolia.
“Cover Me.”
Tobias glanced over his shoulder at Her and looked Her up and down. “Your skin is well hidden. No one can see Your light.”
“I need . . .” Leila scanned the nearby people. She whispered, “I need to shadow walk.”
Tobias started. “Leila, You can’t—”
“There’s no other way.”
Tobias stood silent for a moment, visibly tense. She couldn’t blame his reluctance. It was a terrible plan amid even worse options, but She had made up Her mind.
“That guard, over there.” She gestured his way. “The second I’m gone, make your way in that direction. I’ll meet you there.”
With a disgruntled growl, he reached behind him, slipping Her blade into the palm of Her hand.
“Be safe,” he whispered.
Leila eyed Her surroundings once more. There were so many people, so much potential for failure, but She had no other options.
She furiously sawed at the rope binding Her wrists and ankles.
Once She was free, the men shifted in place, forming a barrier around Her that was hardly subtle.
Someone would surely see Her. Stop it. Discretion was impossible in these conditions, so instead She’d rely on speed.
“I’ll see you soon,” She whispered.
Light burst behind Her eyelids, and a half-second later She stood amid the shadows of the alleyway, the helmeted soldier mere paces away.
Leila swallowed a groan. The soldier basked in the sunlight, too public, too visible. She stepped back, allowing the blackness to swallow Her whole, then cleared Her throat.
Nothing. The soldier remained at his post, standing lazily, almost bored. Leila cleared Her throat louder, again, but still he was unmoving. She rolled Her eyes. “Sir?”
The soldier jumped, then spun around. “Is someone there?”
“Sir,” Leila said in a meek, trembling voice. “I think I’m lost.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.” He squinted into the darkness. “This port is closed for inspection.”
He took a step toward Her, then another. Leila watched each of his footfalls, waiting for the ideal moment. “Please, can you help Me?” She readied Her blade in Her fist. “I’m just trying to find My way home.”
“Bloody hell,” the soldier mumbled. He unsheathed his sword, his stance defensive, but Leila kept Her eyes on the shadows. A couple more steps, and the soldier was cloaked in darkness—a perfect target.
Behind him.
Power swelled within Her, and She slammed Her blade into the soldier’s lower back, digging in deep with a sharp twist. The man buckled beneath his weight, and She covered his mouth to stifle his cry while swiping Her weapon across his throat.
Blood sputtered from the open wound like a geyser, but She hadn’t time to avoid the mess.
Grabbing the soldier’s wrists, She yanked once, twice, three times before She was able to drag him deeper into the alleyway, propping him against the wall as his life faded away.
Leila fought to still Her breathing, discarding one of Her bloodied shawls alongside the corpse. A voice echoed down the alleyway.
“Leila?” Tobias’s head poked around the corner.
“Hurry,” She said, and the four men came trotting Her way, glancing over their shoulders one last time before following Her into the darkness.
They wound through side streets and empty passages, allowing Enzo to take the lead. Leila studied the path behind them more times than She could count, but no one was following them. Somehow, they had managed to escape unnoticed, and amid Her fear and paranoia was a glimmer of self-satisfaction.
She turned Her attention to the foreign land around Her, one that left much to be desired.
Perhaps She’d been unfair when first assessing Thessen, as something about Trogolia was inherently darker in comparison, the sky more grey than blue, the air carrying a strange, almost sooty taste.
Most of the buildings were made of wooden slats warped with age, with roofs covered in cracking tiles discolored by weather.
Someone dumped a bucket out of a window, sloshing what looked like a mixture of piss and shit across the road and nearly spraying Leila’s feet.
She couldn’t stop Herself from gasping. Tossing shit onto the road?
Who would do such a thing? She eyed every passing puddle thereafter, skeptical of their contents.
Enzo swerved down a nearby road, and Leila and the others followed, heading straight into the thick of town.
People in grey cloaks and greyer tunics scuttled by close enough to smell, and Leila cowered, hiding beneath Her last shawl.
Nobody looked Her way, which shouldn’t have surprised Her, but after weeks of being hunted, anonymity wasn’t something She was accustomed to.
Then the familiar clinking of armor rang out in the distance, and She clenched, instinctually gripping Her blade.
Tobias took Her free hand and held it tight.
The warmth of his touch was soothing, but She didn’t let Her guard down, searching the road ahead for armored soldiers.
Enzo was one step ahead of Her, taking them down a narrow alleyway, and She only relaxed once the darkness blanketed Her.