Chapter 71
Zarek
MAKE IT LOOK LIKE AN ACCIDENT
At some point, I must have drifted off to sleep. My head jolts up, and I blink in the darkness. My body aches, and my bruised ribs are absolutely screaming at me. Lilias rests against my shoulder, breathing evenly.
And the carriage isn’t moving. I’m dimly aware of sounds coming from somewhere nearby, muffled music, and an occasional burst of laughter. My fingers wrap around the hilt of the rusty dagger I stole from the king of Marion’s abandoned hunting camp.
“Fuck this,” the carriage driver mutters from just outside the door. “I ain’t getting paid enough to ride through the night.”
There’s a shrill wrap of knuckles against the wood. Lilias jumps, then gasps.
“You still alive in there?” the driver asks.
“I— Yes,” Lilias replies. “Yes. I’m fine.”
There’s a snort from the other side of the door.
“Good,” he says. “Look, uh, don’t scream, okay? It won’t end well for you if you do.”
Lilias clears her throat. “Fine,” she agrees.
There’s silence, and then the carriage rocks as the horse ambles forward.
A moment later, we hear the carriage driver asking someone to feed and water the horse, and not to open the godsdamned carriage under any circumstances.
The carriage sways as the driver jumps off, then rocks again as the horse clops forward. I pull my dagger from its sheath.
The windows are nailed shut, but once the carriage stops moving, it’s fairly simple to work the edge of my blade beneath the nails.
The hum and clatter of conversation is louder now, and mixed with the sounds of horses, it all creates enough background clatter to obscure the sound of the nails slowly squeaking out of the wood.
When I’m finally able to open the window, my heart sinks.
We’re in the middle of the courtyard of the King’s Crossing Inn, near the Vsenrog border.
This is one of the largest border inns, and it’s clearly well used right now.
We’re one of a dozen carriages lined up at the hitching post. Crowds of people stand around the courtyard, laughing and drinking, or caring for the horses and carriages.
I even see a handful of Vsenrog soldiers leaning against the wall of the stables.
“Fuck,” I mutter, sinking back in the seat.
Lilias turns to me with wide eyes.
“We’re surrounded,” I admit, as Lilias leans over me to peer through the window.
She braces herself against the wall of the carriage, then leans forward until her mouth is almost pressed against the front.
“Chestnut,” she whispers. “Hey, Chestnut!”
The carriage rocks, and the horse pulling us snorts. Lilias makes a strange sound, a kind of clicking deep in the back of her throat.
The carriage jolts backward as the horse stamps the ground. Cries erupt from the courtyard. Lilias makes that clicking sound again.
“Hey, control your horse!” someone yells.
The horse pulling us whinnies, and the carriage lurches back and forth.
“Calm now,” says a woman’s voice. “Easy now.”
I watch through the window as a woman approaches with a rope in her hand. The horse snorts, and then the carriage rolls forward as the woman leads us past the stables.
“Easy now,” the woman says. “Easy.”
There’s a rustling sound, probably the woman tying the rope to some hitching post. And then Lilias leans forward and clicks again, sharp and sudden, two times.
The carriage leaps forward, throwing me against the back seat. The woman with the rope screams, and the carriage tips precipitously as the horse bolts. Something crunches under the wheels. Branches smack the sides of the carriage. More voices start to scream from behind us.
I lunge for the carriage door. It’s locked from the outside, of course. I grab the seats to brace myself, then kick the door as hard as I can. A bolt of pain flashes through my body. There’s a horrible cracking sound, but I can’t tell if it came from the door, from my body, or from the wheels.
I kick the door again. This time, I scream when my foot makes contact. The impact jars every injury I’ve ever had, waking them all up at once.
The door flies open.
I have a dim impression of a forest, branches and leaves and darkness, all rushing past at an insane speed.
I turn to Lilias, reaching for her hand.
She’s pressed against the wall, and for a heartbeat, I think she might refuse to go with me.
She might want to stay here, in this carriage, going to Blayne’s estate.
But then she makes another sound, a strange, fluttering trill. And, impossibly, the carriage begins to slow down. When the horse has slowed to a walk, she takes my hand.
“Chestnut,” she calls. “Whoa, girl. Whoa.”
The horse stops, throwing the carriage forward. I jump through the open door, then catch Lilias as she follows me. She braces herself against my arm as she grabs the horse’s lead and rubs its neck, whispering something to it that suddenly seems quite private.
“How in the hells did you do that?” I ask when she starts to unbuckle the horse’s harness.
Lilias shrugs. “I trained the horses in Marion,” she says, as if it were that simple.
Her face twists, and she bends over, wrapping an arm around her waist like she’s going to be sick. I step forward and finish unstrapping the harness. The horse almost leaps away from the carriage, then shakes all over as if she’s glad to be rid of the thing.
“Me too,” I tell her.
The carriage’s twin shafts fall to the ground with a crash, and one cracks in half. In the silence that follows, I hear the distant echo of voices. Angry voices. I try to imagine how many people are probably chasing this runaway carriage.
“Shit,” I mutter.
We’re on a small road, probably leading to a cluster of farms. The forest is thick all around us. I stare at the horrible carriage with its door hanging from busted hinges. And then, suddenly, I kick the godsdamned thing.
My vision flashes white with pain. The carriage creaks, then slowly falls onto its side with a massive crash. The horse snorts. I turn to see Lilias holding its halter and watching me with a look of horrified shock.
“Make it look like an accident,” I manage to stammer.
Lilias nods, then shivers and grabs at her stomach again. I look at the horse beside her. She’s a sturdy reddish mare, this Chestnut, and she looks like she might just be having the worst day of her horsey life. Well, lady, that makes two of us.
I limp over to Lilias.
“Can you ride?” I ask.
“Of course,” she replies.
I open my mouth to ask if she’s sure, but something about the look on her face makes me think that might not be a wise question.
Besides, it’s not like we have much choice.
If we can’t both get away from here, and fast, then being captured by Vsenrog guards might just be the best thing to happen to us for the rest of our lives.
I offer her my arm, and she takes a breath before pulling herself up onto the horse’s back. The horse sighs, and in that moment, I understand equine communication perfectly.
Then I grit my teeth and begin to jog, looking for a break in the trees, anywhere big enough to let us disappear into the darkness. Lilias makes a sound like she’s trying to stifle a moan. I turn back.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“North,” I reply.