44. CHAPTER 44
Miya
The Territories
The True Follower's Villa, Caspador
Hollowed logs smoldered red and black in untended fire pits, their light sinking with the setting sun until only torches burned in the night.
The children spread out along the street, many running and dancing, while some struggled to keep their heavy heads lifted and others curled up, fast asleep.
A woman stood on the steps of the cathedral, drawing her bow across the strings of her violin.
The slow chirp of crickets pulsed with the long and haunting notes of her song.
Miya’s mother had played this every season when spring drew nearer. The music surrounded her like a tether to her mother, to her people, and to everything Miya had once hoped to become.
She hung close to the barrels of wine by the cathedral steps as she finished off her third glass of the bitter wine the villagers had fermented themselves.
Tasted like death, but it still calmed her nerves.
Miya thought through her plan to drop the information to Ashantae and turn over Bale and her boss to the United.
She wanted Lance and this little family to escape once she did it.
That still didn't save everyone else in this village. It didn't guarantee the United could stop the Phaedra from having her family killed.
The music stopped when the violinist set her instrument down and hurried for an open door where a gray-headed man held a swaddled baby. The instrument rested against the top step, leaving the village with nothing to dance to. Her mother would never let them go without.
She ventured up the steps and traced her fingers over the glossy wood of the violin where it dimpled.
This had been made by hand. Lifting the instrument to her shoulder, she tucked her chin against the rest, held the bow between her middle fingers and thumb, and angled it sharply against the strings.
Miya didn’t take the time to warm up. She brought the bow down fast and jolted the people awake with a song they couldn’t resist dancing to.
Eyes closed, she could almost feel her mother’s hair tickling her arms as she reached around her to show her fingers where to go.
She opened her eyes to the villagers dancing in one moving body, their feet kicking up dust, their laughter a refrain that drowned out the crickets.
She spotted Lance at the end of the lit street, a short walk away down the stairs that separated them.
Charlotte tugged at his hand with her feet pushing against his, straining.
Like a pebble lodged in a riverbed, the current of the crowd twisted around him. Lance watched Miya as if it were just the two of them.
Her finger slipped. She skipped a beat.
No one seemed to have noticed her mistake. She turned to the massive doors that were barred shut for the night and continued to play with the music bouncing off the stone walls, swelling around her.
After a few more songs that had served Miya well through the years, entertaining wherever her work at Rafferty’s had led her, the violinist returned.
Passing off the instrument, Miya descended the stairs with no way to avoid Lance.
Charlotte had climbed onto his feet, dancing with him as he made his way to her.
“Time to go with the other kids,” Lance said. He helped Charlotte down, lifted her hand above her head, and spun her in a circle. She fanned her dress as she leaped away.
Miya shifted so she couldn’t see them, but Lance followed her line of sight.
“Talk to me, Miya.” He searched her eyes. “That was the most emotion I've seen from you, and I didn't even know that you're a musician.”
She laughed. “I'm not a musician.”
“This is all we have,” Lance said. “If that means anything to you, then tell me what’s going on with Bale.”
Miya groaned. “You kept it a secret that I was coming. You’re the one who risked these people’s lives by bringing me.”
Lance looked at her as he had when she played the violin. Eyes full of wonder. “Let’s say I kept you from coming. It wouldn't stop the captain.” He lowered his voice. “Take a stand against him, and I’ll help—”
Miya covered his mouth with her fingers, lowering his head down by hers as she pulled him into a dance. “You never know who’s watching. Don’t say things like that when someone could see your lips.”
They swayed with the music. Lance held her hips, and she dangled her arms around his shoulders. He spoke against the top of her head. “We can work together. Hakym is right. There's no time to wait.”
Miya sighed. “It’s not your fault you trust me.
” She drew him closer, twisting control of the conversation from his hands, directing his every movement, as if she were a magnet and he the steel.
“I’ve been doing this a long time.” She slid one hand down to his chest. “I got under your skin. Whatever connection you think we have isn’t real. I planted it in you.”
“You got under my skin. Definitely.” The smile was never far from Lance’s lips. “How does it feel for someone to get under yours?” The hands at her hips eased over her lower back to bring her even closer. His body brushed against hers. “You can’t see your own tell.”
The wine left her dizzy. She felt it when she came close to nestling her head against Lance’s chest. His skin held the musky scent of an honest day’s work, the muscles in his torso shaped by years of labor.
The captain trained his body for taking life.
Lance had only ever tried to survive. To take care of the people he loved.
“I thought you were supposed to be shy and awkward.”
“I'm a little drunk.”
She snorted against his shoulder. “Well.” Miya tilted her head back to see him. “You finally have me listening, and you aren’t going to tell me?”
While her stomach flipped at his lopsided grin, it was the vulnerability in his light brown eyes that made it hard to breathe. He mattered. He mattered, and this felt nicer than she expected, his sturdy arms circling around her, face so close, warm voice calming.
His breath washed over her forehead. “Once I talk, this is all over.”
“What?”
“Me, not being shy and awkward. You, letting me in.”
Her mind was all conflicting wants—the want to run, the want to slide her hands down his neck, the want… the want... “Just say it, Lance.”
He watched her before he spoke. “You’re terrified every time you feel something real.”
“Oh? Is this the part where you convince me it’s you making me feel something real?”
Lance brushed a loose curl behind her ear. “It’s innocence. Your own innocence.”
Pain spread over her chest.
“You think it’s a weakness—”
Miya pushed out of his arms. He released her, backing up a step.
“This game is over.” She raised her finger to him. “I don’t need you to rescue me or redeem me. I can fuck you right now and turn around to betray you. Does that hurt your little feelings?”
Lance’s voice came out flat. “Don’t stop now. Have a couple more glasses of wine and really let loose.”
“This village is living on its dying breath. Those kids you act like you love so much, they’ll be the ones to pay the price for you flippantly deciding to trust people like me.
The world is at war. It always has been.
Toughen up, or you’re a sure casualty. I won’t let you take me down with you with your naivete and blind trust.”
Miya expected Lance to back down, but he showed no signs of surrender. “You’re right. We’re at war. Figure out whose side you’re on.”
Miya’s nostrils flared. She jabbed her thumb against her chest. “I’m on my side. That’s why I’m still standing when so many others have fallen.”
Lance stuffed his hands in his pockets. “All right.” He strayed from her. “If you want to live in a world with just you in it, then it’ll be your world to live in.”
His words hit her chest like a battering ram.
“For what it's worth, the only one who believes your lies is you. You care, and everyone sees it.”
The cold bit its way into Miya's lungs when she stepped outside in the morning.
She'd hardly slept, and Lance's cot was already empty, so he must have been exhausted too. The sun hadn’t yet crested the black fields, but the sky had softened into light blue.
She wandered beyond the cathedral, uncertain of where to go or what to do.
It didn’t take long for her to find Lance working in the second barn. Hay littered the floor over to a muddy pit sectioned off with a wooden fence where two cows stood. The unpleasant smell of dung hung in the air, and it all felt so normal out here. So alive.
“Morning,” Lance said, dipping the bucket into the barrel of food. “I’m glad you found me. I was hoping I could get you to come out here.”
She rested her weight against a wooden beam, her body and mind so fatigued that she could fall asleep standing up if it didn’t smell so awful.
Lance dumped food into a long metal trough, and the two cows shuffled over to eat before he set the bucket on the ground.
A third and fourth appeared in the distance.
“How do you do that?” Miya asked. “Act so nice to me when I snub you?”
He shrugged. “You're not very convincing when you do it. I think you just want me to go away because you think I'll get myself killed.”
Miya bit her lip, even more guilty than she'd felt last night.
Lance smoothed his hand over a cow’s thick nose. “You probably thought I was never coming back, Missy.” He smiled over his shoulder at Miya. “Don’t tell me cows don’t think about things like that. I don’t want to hear it.”
A fleeting taste of tart apples filled her mouth.
She touched her lip where Lance had wiped the juice with his thumb.
Flashes of images and sounds raced through her mind, nightmares she couldn’t quite see or hear of all the captain could do.
She touched her throat. And if not him, what about the United?
Her father? Was there a scenario where Lance made it out of this unscathed?
He dusted his hands on his pants and motioned for her. “We’ll find the horses. You have to see them before you leave. It’s right around—”
“Don’t come back.” Miya’s whisper came out strained.
“What?” His expression fell as his eyes followed a tear that slid down her face and dropped from her chin.
Miya swallowed hard. “Please don’t come back with me. Take Hakym and that little family… Take them as far away from here as you can.”
He walked up to her. “If you want us to leave, then you should too.”
She shook her head. Another tear dropped. “I have work to do.”
“I’ve kept quiet.” He slid his hand over her own and lowered it to her side before touching the faded bruises. “I gave you space. That doesn’t mean I forgot what happened.”
“Lance—”
“I can send them away. I can do whatever I need to do, but I'm not leaving.”
Miya pushed his hand away. “Just go. Get the hell out of here, you big idiot.”
“I’m not so good at this. I’m aimless and in over my head. I get that. But I’m here, and I’m the only person in the world who can say that.” Lance shrugged. “It means something to not be alone. Everyone needs someone, even you.”
Miya grabbed both his hands, forcing his attention. “None of that matters. I'll leave, but you go first. I can’t do what I need to do and worry about saving your skin. If you care about me, go.”
He looked down to where they touched. “You’re trying to manipulate me again.”
“Listen to me—”
“This is it. This is all I get. No one, not even you, gets to tell me what I spend my life on. You don't need to save me. I'll save myself.”
Miya pushed her hair back and held the back of her neck.
Once she returned to Krowe's, everything started.
Ashantae would pass on the message to the United.
They'd surveil Bale and her boss, then catch them communicating and meeting.
And Miya couldn't run until she knew her family was safe.
If Lance stuck around, he might get detained by either side after working with Bale and Krowe.
Lance backed up toward the cows and dropped his bucket on top of the barrel, like nothing happened.
“You coming or not? The horses are something to see. Strong. Stubborn. Stunning.” A grin crawled up the right side of his mouth like he knew better than to smile at her now but couldn’t help himself. “You’d get along very well.”
“Stop trying to cheer me up by being cheesy.”
Lance winked. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Even if Miya convinced them to run, what then? This empire wasn't safe. What if they ended up somewhere even worse?
Fear swirled through her while she followed Lance across a field to a long fence.
Horses dotted the land, looking small as they trotted in the distance.
Near the door, a tall brown mare with swaths of white stood, her head turned toward them.
Miya stared into her black eyes, remembering riding as a girl.
Lance climbed over the fence. “Don’t open the door with her nearby. She’ll take off.” He stepped onto the bottom board and reached over to help her.
Miya scaled it on her own and went to the horse, working her hands into the knots of her mane. The mare snorted, stomping her feet into the ground.
“You don’t like being penned in either, do you?
They catch you every time you break free.
One day, it won’t matter if the door is open or closed.
You’ll stop trying.” Pulling back, she smiled.
“But that doesn’t mean you won’t trample any son of a bitch who hops your fence and comes for your horses. ”
No one needed to wait for Bale and her boss to incriminate themselves if the United knew who Miya really was.
In the few days or weeks it would take for them to intervene, the danger would only get worse.
Especially for Lance and his people. The Phaedra didn't just send a captain with a seal.
He sent the High General's son. He was serious about conquering Caspador.
There was only one way for Miya to ensure this village stayed safe. That no harm came to Lance. That people stopped being defined by their marks, and those in power didn't go unchecked. That wasn't by running away when the kingdom was safe from this threat.
Her heart broke as she buried her face in the horse's mane.
Miya knew what she needed to do. She'd always known.
“I'm going home,” she whispered to the mare. “I'll make sure no one touches yours.”
Turning, she found Lance watching, concern clear in his eyes.
Things would be different for him soon. She'd make sure of that. Because if she were returning to the palace, she wouldn't go back to how it was last time.
Miya would take back all the power that was rightfully hers and bring judgment to people like her father and the captain.