Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Sierra
Only in dreams had I run this fast, with my heart in my dry throat, the soles of my feet numb from the pain of the raw forest floor. Like in most nightmares, I was running from evil, one that had every intention of ending me if I were to pause to take a breath. But unlike nightmares, this was real, and if I didn’t get away from what was after me, I would sleep and never wake again.
The last thing I remembered after waking up in that dank wagon was Esta waving a gentle hand over dead flowers that she’d brought back to life. The shock of not only seeing such an impossibility, the full picture of who—what—she truly was, still rang inside my blood.
I had trusted her, I had blindly followed my emotions, emotions that had been wrecked beyond the pale from the startling discovery that Lucius had played me, lied to me. And because I’d been so damn distracted by that pain, I’d run head-on into danger. No one knew where I was. No one knew I’d been taken. And no one would be coming to save me. Not here in this vast forest away from any civilization.
When I’d woken up with the mother of all headaches in a tented wagon that smelled of hay and sour corn, the first thing I’d realized was that the wagon was moving, taking me away from Ghypsom City. I’d waited only a few moments before the wagon stopped and a man in gray robes, the robes of the Owl, peeked inside the canvas. Thankfully, I’d feigned sleep, all the while terrified the sound of my pounding heart would give me away.
But the Servant had been satisfied by whatever he’d seen, and the canvas was shut once more, leaving me to exhale and wonder what on Titus I was going to do to get away. It hadn’t been long after that before I heard those posh male voices speaking about me outside toward the front of the covered wagon.
“…. still out cold.”
“…won’t be long before…”
I hadn’t stopped to listen. Instead, I had escaped, not even bothering to be silent, and ran as far and as fast as I could. I had no shoes, no cloak, no clue where I was. All I knew was that I had to get far away. I would not let myself be taken again.
I’d been running for what felt like an hour when the cramp in my side threatened to skewer me in half. I lurched forward, pinwheeling my arms as I slowed my body down so that I wouldn’t hit the ground. I needed to rest… going much further was just not possible right now.
So I looked around and spotted a copse of trees with thick, low-lying branches that would hide me, and crouched down and into the underbrush as far as I could while still keeping an eye out. It was much too dark to see a thing, but because of the snow that threatened to fall again any moment, the sky cast a moonlit-white on everything.
After scooting inside the blanket of trees, I sat down on the frozen dirt among a pillow of pine needles. Shivers wracked my body, and I hugged my knees to my chest, straining my ears to pick up any sound.
Not even a bird chirped.
My body wanted to stay here, wanted to dig into the pine needles and cover myself with some dint of warmth, but I couldn’t risk it. Or would it be better if I did stay, hoping those Servants would pass me by? There was no doubt they were searching for me now.
Gods, I didn’t know what to do. Tears started falling from my eyes, and I batted them away in frustration, using my shoulder to wipe at them. The movement made me aware that my osnat was gone, and I quickly touched my throat. It was naked, they had taken it.
A surge of anger warmed my blood. I was beyond tired of the Owl’s involvement in my life. What did they want with me, of all people? And what gave them the right?
Gods, why did it seem everyone in Titus wanted a piece of me?
My thoughts had me scampering out of my hiding place. I was so livid I could barely swallow, or maybe that was just the dryness of my throat. I needed water. So that’s where I would head.
Lifting my head, I shut my eyes and used my senses, which were sharper than when I’d lived as a naive daughter in Providence. If water was nearby, I’d find it.
I turned in a circle, slowly, my nose sniffing. There. I opened my eyes and marched forward, following my nose. When the scent didn’t get stronger, I broke into a jog, then a run. I ran like that for a long time until the scent gradually grew stronger, finally leading me to a sizable creek that slithered through moldy boulders of marbled rock. The water was unbearably cold, but clean and sweet, and I drank my fill, sitting on my heels.
The hoot of an owl had my heart in my throat but I stayed still, glancing above me to where a row of naked black trees with massive trunks spiraled up into the night sky like giant fingers.
The owl was as white as snow, and there was a slight glow around his large pupils. He hooted again, staring down at me. On his perch, he seemed to pace—back and forth, back and forth, as if something was wrong with him, as if he were agitated.
I smiled, forgetting for a moment the situation I was in, the strange empty forest on a winter’s night. Alone.
To my surprise, the owl lifted his massive wings, and with a whoosh, glided down to land a few feet from me. I stood slowly, staring down at him.
Hoo hoo hoooo,” it sang softly, mournfully almost. He hopped back, only to hop forward.
Trust the owl, that seer in Providence had said so long ago.
The owl glided up again, flapping his wings midflight, staring at me, then turned, flying across the creek at the narrowest point. At the bank, he dropped to the forest floor, looking back at me.
Hoo hoo hoooo.
Did he want me to follow him?
Trust the owl.
So I did.
With frozen feet and hands, I walked and walked, following those white lush wings, until the forest floor met an incline. I could no longer feel my limbs, and my nose had long ago been erased from awareness entirely, numb from the cold temperatures. When I seriously contemplated falling to the ground, never to get up again, the owl flew back, then catching sight of me, flew forward again, gliding into a dark hole where it disappeared. Maybe I had hallucinated him all along, I thought as I walked forward to the wall of nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. Among the foliage covering it, a cave entrance yawned. The ground became softer, smushy. Soil.
Dry soil.
I was fully awake now. I walked in the pitch darkness as far into the tunnel-like cave as I could go, using my hands to judge distance. A warm light glowed against the stone on the left, where the tunnel turned, ending in a tall, hollow space where a fire burned. Before that fire sat Phobius.
I started, confusion and wariness coming to the surface as it dueled with fatigue. But the pull of the fire was strong, and the dry environment won me over. With the greatest effort, I took the last of my energy to fall in front of that blessed heat.
A heavy cloak fell over my shoulders, and I looked up. Phobius had covered me.
“Glad to see you got away, Sierra,” he said.
So many questions flirted at my tongue, but I hadn’t an inch of energy to form them. Instead, I shut my eyes and let the fire thaw me to sleep.
Iwoke up to delicious warmth and the scent of streams and forests, a familiar scent that had me opening my eyes and examining my surroundings.
“You’re awake.”
Hearing that voice had my heart filling with joy. I turned my head on the warm cozy surface and realized I was lying on Demos’ chest. “Demos?”
His arms went around me and gathered me closer. “Melos.” He kissed my head and breathed me in.
“How are you here?” Then I remembered seeing Phobius, remembered being led here by an owl. The wagon. I tried to sit up, but his arms wouldn’t let me go. “Demos, there are Servants out there looking for me. We need to leave!”
“We’re safe,” he assured. His palm touched my cheek, and a flood of feeling replaced my fear. His blue eyes darkened. “Once Phobius comes back with some food, we’ll eat and head back to the city. Are you thirsty?”
I nodded absently, and he sat up, taking me with him, placing me on his lap. The cloak that was covering me slipped off, and I shivered. “How long was I sleeping?”
He passed me a canteen and as I drank, he said, “About nine hours or so. Tell me what happened.”
I drank my fill and handed the canteen back to him. “I—I ran. From the meeting. Something… Lucius and I, well, it doesn’t matter. I ran through the city and… Oh, gods. Demos, I met an elemental. I thought she was just someone who was a part of the Delphos women.” Then I remembered he probably had no idea what in Titus I was talking about, so I shook my head. “She must have given me something to drink, because the next thing I knew, I was in a covered wagon in the middle of a forest. Servants were driving it, and when we stopped, I made a run for it. And then an owl appeared, and… I know it sounds crazy, but he led me here.”
Crazy? Yes, no doubt about it. But it had happened exactly like I’d said. An owl had saved my life. If anyone believed me, though, it would be Demos.
He said nothing, only rubbed my back in soothing movements.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“We tracked you.”
“You and… Phobius?”
He hummed, his eyes taking in every inch of me. “The others will meet us along the way to Ghypsom. I’m afraid we’ll have to walk. No horses.”
“Then how did you two get here?”
“It doesn’t matter. I wish you had your shoes, though.” He held one of my sore feet, cupping the heel. My rapid healing had worked on the blisters, at least, and the fire had warmed them.
I made a face at having to walk out there on them again. But I found to my surprise that the inconvenience was nothing compared to what had happened before they’d found me. I was safe. Demos was here, I wasn’t alone, and this nightmare would finally be over.
“Why is the Owl doing this, Demos? What is it that they want from me?”
“Right now, it’s to destroy the Ongahri. They sent Lucius a ransom note. They meant to use you as bait to get to him.”
“But Lucius is nothing to them—” But that was no longer the case, I thought. Lucius was the Ongahri’s true heir, their rightful king. Did the Owl know this too?
“What is it? What were you about to say?” Demos’ tone held a note of seriousness he’d never used with me before, and it had me looking at him.
“I need to tell you something. But…”
Blue eyes bored into mine. “You can trust me, Sierra. Tell me.”
“I think Lucius is the bastard son of King Trajan. And if he is, that means he’s the rightful king.”
The arms around me stiffened. His blue eyes widened, lips parting. Then a look of dawning comprehension came over him. “Now I see.”
“Now you see what? Please, Demos. No more secrets. I’m so sick of secrets!”
“I agree,” Phobius said behind us, coming quietly into the cave. “It’s time to tell her everything, Brother.”