Chapter 14
There’s a stunted quiet that’s settled in. A tension that flinches.
Despite my increasing hunger, I stay on my bedroll, watching everyone. Small groups are escorted away from camp so they can relieve themselves, more water is passed out, and people eat with subdued murmurings.
The night air has cooled, stars barely visible through the treetops, and the magic numbness on my back has started to fade. Not completely, but enough for a lilting pain to begin to hum.
At least I’ve stopped actively bleeding, but that’s only because the Needle came over and bound my back with a bandage. She did the task with the same gentleness as when she stabbed me. Which is to say, none at all.
But at least my lashings are no longer exposed. Although, she did wrap the fabric tight enough around my torso that my breathing is a bit labored. Or maybe that’s just from my anxiousness.
As I’ve sat here watching the camp, I’ve counted. Out of the one hundred thirty people that the Piper stole, twenty-eight of us are fiends, including six children. Which means the Piper must’ve stolen nearly all of the fiends in our entire city.
This realization deeply unsettles me. I don’t know if it was on purpose or completely at random, but . . . it seems strange.
I’m not sure what to make of it.
Soon, the nervous murmurings of the group dissipate like melted mist as more people claim a bedroll for sleep. My own eyes stay peeled. Burning but refusing to close, even as I sway in place.
The older fae man sits with his crossbow by the fire, watching us with a keen gaze. The Core fae circle the camp, looking bored but alert. I lose sight of the Piper every now and then, where the firelight can’t quite quell the shadows. Those are the moments I’m the most nervous.
“Hi,” Theo greets as he walks up beside me.
“Hi,” I say back.
His hair is a mess of red wine clumped together, and I notice Kaetir is right behind him, looking just as disheveled. His dark eyes are hollow, brown skin scratched up at his arms and cheeks, and a couple rips at his shirtsleeve.
I went months without seeing either of them, and now, we’ve been thrown together twice in as many days.
“Here,” Theo says, passing me some meat. “You need to eat.”
I hesitate, but I take it when my stomach clenches. I chew up the strips and finish it in just three gulps, licking the gamey taste from my lips.
“See? It’s a good thing I brought you some.”
His self-satisfied tone makes my shoulders stiffen, but I murmur out a thank you.
He nods and looks down at my bedroll that I pulled away. “I was going to do the same,” he says before grabbing another one nearby and dragging it several feet over to be closer to mine. Kaetir quickly pulls his own over too. He always did follow Theo’s lead.
Theo sits down with a sigh and yanks off his shoes to rub his sore feet. “Isn’t it strange that the Flies didn’t eat this place up? Or the Poison?” he muses, head tipping up to look at the trees.
“The Plagues must not have crossed the bay,” I reply.
“Would’ve been nice if they’d let us come out here to forage instead of sealing off the city.”
I let out a flat hum. “Maybe for fae.”
Because even if the gates were open, it’s not like they’d have let fiends go out.
Theo has the decency to look contrite. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
From my peripheral vision, I see him dart a look at me, eyes catching on my exposed horns. It’s a shock he hasn’t asked where my veillet is. Even Kaetir often wore hats in his presence.
Still looking at the fire, I say, “I always wanted to know, when you first saw me at the market selling paper, did you only talk to me because you thought I was a fae?”
Theo stiffens on his bedroll, and a pause stretches out. “Why are you asking now?”
“Curiosity.”
He scrapes out a reluctant answer. “Well, yes . . . You did have your veillet on.” His voice is almost accusing.
“It’s the fashion for women. Fae and fiend alike,” I point out.
He says nothing to refute that fact.
I study his bruised eyes and wary mouth. “You wouldn’t have asked me to dinner that first time if you knew I was a fiend, would you?”
He looks startled. “Of-of course I would have.”
Despite the smoke in the air, I can practically scent the lie.
“You know I don’t pay attention to that rhetoric,” he argues. “Kaetir and I have been friends for years. Courting you showed—well. I didn’t judge you, did I? I don’t judge any fiend for the Bane blood in your veins.”
My eyes flick to Kaetir, who looks like he wishes he could fall through the ground and be gone from this conversation.
“Right. Though, I suppose a fiend friendship is better than a fiend relationship,” I remark, before looking back to Theo.
“Good thing you found Gisela. She’s a much better candidate. ”
Theo looks affronted. “Esti, you know I cared about you. My parents—”
“Your parents?” I cut off with a small laugh. “The ones who barely spoke a dozen words to me the entire time we were together and never invited me into their home? Those parents?”
His cheeks blot with color. I know his parents are off-limits. They’re the very source of his protective streak. “My parents are good fae who do a lot for Hamelyn, and I love them. It’s important to me that they’re happy. They did have their concerns about you, of course, but I am sorry for that.”
My tone lies prone and cold on the ground. “Yeah. Me too.”
I’m sorry that I wasted two years on him. Sorry that I let my heart wither for a seed that was never going to bloom.
“I truly didn’t want to hurt you.”
I’m sure he didn’t, because he doesn’t like those sorts of complications. But all that meant was that he strung me along. Willing to save my feelings but not my heart.
And that’s so much worse.
Stiff silence stretches between us until he fills it again. “You seem . . . different.”
I blink away the burn from my eyes. “How?”
“You were always so sweet. Optimistic.”
I scoff. “My back is in tatters and we were just kidnapped, Theo. I’m not exactly in the mind frame to burst with enthusiasm.”
“We’ll get through this,” he declares with enough positivity that I want to kick him.
Luckily, Kaetir is more realistic. “What do you think he’s going to do to us?” he asks quietly, darting a look across the clearing to the Piper.
I shake my head, troubled. “I don’t know.”
As the fire dies down, the camp goes still with sleep. Even the Core fae seem to have a plan to rest. Two tents are set up, one on each side of camp. The crossbow man, however, is still at the fire. Chewing on a thin bone, watching us.
Kaetir lies down, his eyes squeezing shut. A couple of brown leaves the same color as his horns are stuck in his black hair. He looks roughened and tired, much like everyone else. Though I know I must look even worse. I’m grateful that I can’t see the lashings across my back.
Theo lies between us, and he rolls away after muttering an awkward “good night.” I might have felt guilty about how harshly I spoke to him before, but right now, I don’t have the energy to muster it when I’m so afraid for our lives.
He didn’t even ask what happened to my back, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He always shied away from the harder subjects, preferring to keep things light. Pleasant. Easy.
I swallow hard as the hastily consumed meat sloshes in my stomach.
Theo falls asleep quickly, droning out the steady rhythm of breath I know all too well. Making me remember all the times he’d drop off to sleep after taking me to his bed.
And that too was always light. Pleasant. Easy.
Nothing past that. Nothing . . . more.
It always left me with a niggling thought worming in the back of my mind. Made me wonder if something was missing. But then I’d berate myself for such thoughts. Remind myself that even though it might not be some exciting passion, at least he loved me. At least I wasn’t alone.
I was a fool.
Turning away, I carefully roll my neck to try to loosen the stiffness, wincing as my wounds pull. Across the camp, I see the Piper go into one of the tents. Frid already went into the one on the other side of the firepit at least a half hour ago. The Needle is farther away, near the horses.
I watch, my pulse picking up speed as I wait, but when the Piper doesn’t come back out of the tent and when Crossbow isn’t looking, I carefully stand.
I don’t even make it five steps before Baldy appears, blocking my way. His irises rain a somber gray as he looks at me, and a grouping of speckles light up just above his left eyebrow.
Resilient. Prefers silence. Tendency to hold a grudge.
Well, I can hold a grudge too.
And I can also try to trick my kidnapper’s accomplice.