Chapter II.14
Chapter Fourteen
Three Days Before the Wedding, Continued
A witch, Yali had once taught Miria, would be wise to always carry some basic spell supplies with her: a means to heal, a means to harm, a means to hide, and a means to figure out which of the aforementioned options was the most prudent.
Miria was more grateful than usual for that advice, though neither healing, harming, nor hiding were currently among her objectives.
Scrying, however, had multiple uses, and she unwrapped a small circle of highly polished silver from the enchanted silk she used to store it.
It was less convenient than Yali’s glass scrying bowl, but far more portable.
She had no doubt she needed to move quickly.
Even if she had time before anyone returned to Adaline’s room, she was racing against men who knew the demesne and all the assorted buildings on the manor grounds far better than she did.
The need to conserve her power by using a more involved but elegant spell warred with her need for expediency and brute force, and expediency won out.
Miria found a light brown hair tangled in Adaline’s comb and wrapped it around her hand.
She pricked a finger and smeared a drop of blood over the silver, muttered the proper words, and focused on Adaline’s hair.
The blood vanished from the silver’s surface, revealing Adaline with a furtive expression on her face.
Her hair was hidden beneath a deep blue hood, and a cloak that would only be considered plain to someone of her wealth was draped around her shoulders.
The room she was in was sparse and poorly lit from high windows, and Miria couldn’t fathom where she might be until Adaline crept in farther.
Weapons were neatly stored along the wood wall in front of her—swords of varying sizes, mainly, as well as polearms sporting a variety of wicked blades to her right.
It was an armory then; Miria should have guessed, though she’d hoped Adaline had simply made a dash for her freedom.
Her odds of success seemed like they would have been higher without entering one of the rooms in the estate mostly likely to be occupied by the people searching for her, but then, perhaps that was the very reason no one would think to search there.
In all of Miria’s scheming, she hadn’t scoped out where the lord’s armory was.
Clearly, that had been poor planning when her friend was so enamored of stabby metal objects.
Miria couldn’t blame her too much, though.
In Adaline’s place, she wouldn’t want to run and hide in the woods for days without her satchel of basic spellcasting supplies.
Girls and women, be they witches or ladies, deserved to protect themselves.
Unfortunately, this was going to cost Miria something extra. Adaline didn’t appear to have company, which meant time remained in which they could escape without being noticed if they were fast enough. The plan wasn’t lost yet.
Miria drew on more of her power, her fingernails digging into her skin as she angled the silver toward the window so that it caught the sunlight. “Take me to her.”
The gleam of light that reflected off the metal shivered once, then it rose into the air, hovering inches from Miria’s face. No one would be able to see it but her, but she still had to navigate to the armory unseen, which meant she couldn’t drop the illusion spell she wore either.
“Lead the way,” Miria commanded the light, and she hoped the magic would sense her intentions and take her on the least populated path rather than the most direct.
Aside from a brief run-in with a very perceptive chambermaid who caught Miria’s reflection in a mirror, screamed, and ran, Miria made it out of the demesne undetected.
She was a little uncertain as to the consequences of the maid’s reaction, but if all went well (that seemed optimistic given nothing else had so far), she would be long gone before the woman could talk about visions of ghosts in the mirror.
Despite her pounding heart and every instinct screaming at her to do the opposite, Miria strolled across the grounds outside like she deserved to be there.
After all, the spell worked by making people see what they believed should be present, and someone who seemed like they belonged would therefore go unnoticed.
To Miria’s relief, Adaline must have left the armory, because the light led her to the lord’s stables.
Like the armory, they were mostly deserted.
A couple of stable hands leaned against the outside of the building, sharing a drink, and they paid Miria no mind as she slipped through the doors.
Inside the building was cooler and smelled of horses and fresh hay, and Miria found Adaline immediately, no light required any longer.
She dismissed it with a flick of her wrist as she dashed over to her friend.
Adaline startled at the sound of feet, and she spun around with guilt plastered over her face. It melted away in an instant, replaced by such joy that Miria’s heart skipped a beat.
“Miri!” Adaline half whispered, half screamed, abandoning the saddle she’d been buckling to Pearl and charging over.
Miria allowed herself a moment of relief and comfort and dizzying happiness.
She buried her face against Adaline’s neck, melted into her warmth and breathed in the honeysuckle and lavender scent of her perfume.
In some dark, anxiety-plagued recess of her heart, she must have worried that after two years, things would have changed too much between them.
That her attempt to rescue Adaline would satisfy her need for vengeance but not her other, less bloody, needs.
That her body would no longer respond to Adaline’s like it used to, and worse—that Adaline would no longer wish it to.
It was a fear that not even talking to Adaline a month ago could allay. There was just something different about breathing the same air, about touching each other’s skin. But Adaline’s arms around her were fierce, and when she finally let go to touch Miria’s cheek, her eyes shimmered with tears.
“I missed you.” Miria wasn’t sure which of them said it first, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were together again.
“We need to leave,” Miria said at last. She could have stood here, pressed against Adaline and reveling in her closeness forever.
“The plan …” The plan had neither called for Adaline stealing a sword nor taking her horse, but here they were.
The sword, Miria could work with. The horse was something else.
Adaline’s eyes opened wide as she guessed something was amiss by Miria’s expression. “Did you not get my last letter? I wrote that I wanted to take Pearl with me.”
“You wrote? No.” Miria shook her head. “I didn’t get any letter.”
Adaline swore. “No wonder you look so confused. You must be furious with me. I thought that since you hadn’t written back, you were fine with everything, or if there wasn’t time for that, you could write to me once I arrived, and—”
She cut off at the sound of the stable doors opening.
“Everyone in the house is searching for you,” Miria whispered, ducking low. “I can’t disguise you and your horse.”
But perhaps that didn’t matter anymore. Voices behind them rose in alarm. Adaline had been spotted.
Amid cries of “There she is!” and “My lady, what are you doing?” and variations thereof, Adaline finished attaching Pearl’s saddle. A sinking sensation in Miria’s gut told her the plan was about to veer even more wildly off course than it already had.
Miria could hear the guards running toward them, and Adaline swung herself onto Pearl in what Miria was certain was not an appropriate fashion for a lady, even one in riding skirts.
She stretched a hand down in Miria’s direction. “Come up here with me.”
Miria didn’t move. Adaline had tried teaching her to ride two years ago, and she had not been a fan. And since all attempts at subterfuge were gone, she saw no point in subjecting herself to discomfort when she had a better means of traveling.
Miria shook her head. Her friend bit her lip, ignoring the men who were entreating her to return the manor immediately where her family was worried for her, banquet preparations were under way, and other such pleas that were cast aside like dust.
Seeing as Miria wasn’t budging, Adaline finally snapped her attention to the guards. “I’m going for a ride. You can tell my parents that.”
The most authoritative looking of the men, one who had a slightly fancier uniform than the others, stepped forward through the stall’s open door. “I’m afraid it’s your father’s orders, my lady. You do not have his permission to ride today. Please come in, and you can discuss it with him.”
Adaline let out a scream of frustration. “I am so tired of men telling me what to do.” And with that, she took off through the stable, sending the surprised guard stumbling out of the way.
In the confusion that followed with the men shouting orders at one another, Miria crouched farther out of sight and shifted into her owl form.
If the guards had noticed her at all while they pleaded with Adaline, once she was out of sight, she was out of their minds.
Cries were going up around the stable, and Miria heard one of the men announce they would stop Adaline at the manor gate.
Not if Miria could help it.
Miria took flight, bursting through the open barn doors and circling the building until she’d adjusted to her new vantage point.
Below, the bustle around the grounds had taken on a sense of urgency.
Word was spreading faster than Miria would have thought possible, and Adaline was charging for the gate.
Which was closing.