Chapter 13
The ferry jolts against the shore.
I’d been staring ahead for so long, looking without seeing a thing. Everyone else seems to be just as dazed. It feels like the Piper’s magic has left an echo behind, one that whispers throughout the gathered caught.
Or perhaps it’s simply the shock that has us in its grip.
One look behind me, and I see Hamelyn across the bay, gates closed tight, smoke still lifting in the air. I can make out the stones of its surrounding wall, rooftops peeking out over the top like fired clay and stained with blotches of black.
What if I never see it again?
“Everyone, line up!”
With burning eyes, I turn to the command that boomed from the Piper. One by one, we shakily stand. Worried glances are exchanged as we get in line and start exiting the ferry.
“You okay?”
I nod absently at Theo as we move forward. Thank the Fates for the numbness in my back, or I’m not sure I’d be able to stand. We’re led toward a ramp that’s propped on the ferry, with the Piper acting as the spearhead.
“I won’t go.”
This comes from a fae man who’s stepped out of line, his head shaking in defiance, eyes darting around like he’s searching for an escape.
“Don’t be foolish,” the bald-headed Core fae warns him as he gathers up all the empty waterskins.
The man’s eyes bulge. “You can’t just kidnap us!”
“We didn’t kidnap you. You were a collected debt,” Frid cuts in.
“Wasn’t my debt!”
“Oh yeah? Well, your Govern didn’t say otherwise, did he?” Frid replies with a taunting smirk.
The man makes a noise and then suddenly swings his meaty fist at Frid’s face.
“Hey!” the Needle—Lacera—shouts.
I fully expect Frid to block the hit since the man’s movements are sluggish, but instead, the fist strikes right at his cheek.
The sound smacks loudly, but Frid doesn’t move.
Nothing more than a blink. Comical almost, with the way the man cries out and grips his hand with a grimace, like he just punched a brick wall.
Frid stands there and looks down at him coolly. “That’ll swell. Might want to ice it.”
“There is no ice,” someone blurts out. A little boy with cream-colored horns popping out of bright blond hair. He can’t be much older than five.
“You’re right, kid,” Frid says. “So maybe the idiot should’ve thought about that before hitting a strength-powered Core fae in the face. Don’t you think?”
The boy blinks and then tucks his head, turning into the arms of the fiend woman beside him.
Frid looks back to the man who hit him. “Got that out of your system?” he goads while the man still cradles his hand. “Good. Now get in line, or I’ll toss you in the sea.”
With a silent glare, the man turns and snakes back into the line, his face bright red. Frid looks levelly over the rest of us. “Try something. I dare you.”
Nobody takes him up on it.
With the dark threat in his gaze and his arms crossed in front of him, he watches us walk in an orderly line. As soon as I’m off the ramp, my shoes hit the black sand of the shore, and I sidestep the washed-up rodents. In front of me, the line stretches, postures hunched and spirits sunken.
I tug at my tattered tunic, feeling the air hit my back yet none of the pain. The fabric is only holding on by a few sliced scraps from the whipping, so I reach back and tie some of the torn strips together to keep it from falling off.
“That injury doesn’t look good,” Theo remarks behind me.
My face goes hot. “Then don’t look at it,” I snap, feeling vulnerable.
He pulls in a quick breath, and I instantly feel guilty.
I don’t even know why his words rankled me.
Maybe because he was often critical when pointing things out while we were together.
“That dress is a bit faded, Esti. Your home is quite small, Esti. Your horns need to be covered, Esti. Your freckles are a little odd, Esti. Why do your hair and horns sparkle, Esti?”
He would always follow with something positive or nice, but I couldn’t help but feel like those little digs buried me inch by inch.
“Sorry,” I murmur over my shoulder.
“It’s okay. This is a tense situation for everyone.”
That’s putting it mildly.
We climb up a short slope off the shore, where the beach sand gives way to grass.
We’re led away from the roads that go toward other nearby outlier burgs, and into the trees.
The leaves are shiny and wide, scooped like palms and vivid green, and obviously spared from the Plagues that fell over Hamelyn.
The scent of earth mixes with the brine of the sea, the forest so thick that the temperature cools.
There isn’t a Fly or Rat or a single drop of Poison in sight.
Under any other circumstances, I would have loved to walk through here to explore. Would’ve loved to show this place to my mother and watched her face light up.
But there is no enjoyment to be had.
Ahead of me, several people watch the trees like they expect something to jump out and attack us, but my eyes stay trained on the Piper. I have no doubt he’s the most threatening thing here—and the most deceptively alluring.
Like hemlock in bloom.
We walk for hours, stopping only once for a short break during which they pass out more water and let us sit. But after barely ten minutes, we’re forced up and walking again.
My mind blanks out, and all I can do is focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Overhead, the sun pulls close enough to peer down at us. Red-hot, it burns through the bleed, though the forest’s canopy shields us from most of its heat.
When sunfall ends and my body is ready to give out, we finally come to a clearing.
I blink tiredly at the sight of a camp. There are a few horses grazing nearby, and dozens of bedrolls circling a burning firepit.
The scent of food steams from an animal stuck on a spit and cooking over the flames, making my mouth instantly water.
I hear several people exclaim in relief.
But the scene just solidifies what I’d already guessed—that the Piper and his group knew he’d be taking people all along.
Against one of the trees, an older fae man dozes near the fire with his mouth open, gray hair sticking up, and a crossbow settled across his lap. When he hears us arrive, he clambers to his feet, and I realize that he doesn’t have the red drips on his ears, so he isn’t a Core.
The Piper strides over to him, and the two of them speak, though they’re too far away for me to hear what’s being said. I quickly look around, noting that Frid and the other two Core fae are watching our group with hawk-sharp eyes, as if expecting one of us to bolt.
The woman who stabbed my back with her magic needle is spinning one around right now, letting it flip between her fingers as she monitors us.
Not unsettling at all.
The Piper breaks away from the man and comes to stand in front of our gathered group, waiting until we’re all anxiously staring at him. “This will be your only reprieve, so eat. Sleep. We’ll be up at dawnlight to make the last leg of our journey before reaching Penbroge City tomorrow.”
Penbroge. That’s his territory.
My brows draw together.
“Do not attempt to run,” he goes on, gesturing to the man with the crossbow, who’s now turning the animal over to cook the other side. “It will be in vain.”
His threat permeates the group. Through me.
“What are you going to do with us?” a man calls out.
The Piper swings his gaze to him, and the question pulls taut. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
With a soured stomach, I watch as he turns and walks away, offering no other answers.
Our group is doused in grim looks.
It takes several moments before anyone moves, but slowly, people disperse. Most go toward the fire. Others claim a bedroll and huddle down, fatigue dragging their limbs.
My stomach grumbles loudly. I can’t even remember when I last ate. I’m exhausted, starving, thirsty, injured, and sore all over from the walk, but more than anything, I’m terrified.
I head for the very last bedroll at the edge of the gathering, well away from the fire.
Pinching the corner, I pull it farther off, glancing around quickly to make sure no one is watching me.
I don’t dare drag it far enough to be noticeable, but enough that I can feel safer. That I can have everyone in sight.
I sit stiffly upon the thick fabric, with my knees pulled in front of me and my arms wrapped around my legs. I wince, realizing this was exactly how I was sitting on the punishment pole. Here I am cradling myself again, still trying to survive.
Still not knowing if I will.
But I hold on, because that’s all I can do.
Try.