16 LONNIE
THE INN, VILLAGE OF FORLORN
A dim light seeped in through the dirt-caked window of the small room, casting a faint glow on the dusty floor.
I lay on my side, squashed between Bael and Scion on the creaky, narrow bed, our limbs tangled together. Bael spooned me from behind with his arm securely curled around my waist, while Scion faced me with his arm draped over my hip, our mouths so close I could feel his warm breath on my skin. I breathed deeply, trying to give the impression I was asleep, even as I counted every second that passed.
I was counting down the time remaining until I had to leave them.
Though the scene earlier was meant to bring some awareness to Scion, it had done far more for me. Everything came into sharp clarity—the curse, my role in it, my feelings. I had to escape tonight or I never would.
It was ironic, really.
I’d spent so much time worrying that they were going to kill me, and now I was leaving to avoid the reverse. If I stayed, one way or another, they’d die, and I couldn’t let that happen. Still, my heart ached every time I thought of leaving. Just a few more minutes.
Bael stirred behind me, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck as he murmured soft words in his sleep. My heart swelled and I struggled to catch my breath as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. My time had run out.
Ever so slowly, I unraveled myself from their arms and slipped out of bed. Padding on tiptoes across the cold wooden floor, I barely breathed, afraid the slightest sound would wake them.
I’d left my muddy boots by the door, but didn’t dare stop to put them on. Picking them up in one hand, and grabbing for Bael’s abandoned cloak with the other, I slowly eased the door open.
It made no sound, but still, I paused and held my breath. Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, my ears strained for a creak of the bed or an angry curse from Scion. No such sound came, and I let out a shaky sigh of relief before continuing down the hall, careful to avoid any loose floorboards.
I didn’t have any firm plan as I stumbled down the rickety stairs, two at a time, and burst into the dimly lit tavern. I supposed I should have spent the hours lying awake in bed deciding where to go—what I was going to do next—but no such thoughts had broken through the fog swirling my mind. I was so focused on leaving, I hadn’t worked out what I would do next. I hadn’t even had time to be afraid yet, to worry what might be waiting for me alone in the forest.
I supposed it didn’t matter.
I’d never had much of a plan for my life—my future—before the princes came into it. Why should that change now that I was leaving them?
The street outside the inn was desolate, not a single soul in sight as I paused to sit on the front stoop and lace up my boots. The air smelled of rain and damp earth, and I sucked in a heavy breath before standing and wrapping Bael’s cloak around my shoulders.
Suddenly, the world stretched wide before me.
I looked right, then left down the dark street, as if an idea might spring out of nowhere and present itself to me. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. I supposed the only thing to do was to keep heading north.
The moment that Ambrose Dullahan suggested my mother might be alive back in the midst of the battle at the castle, I’d known that the first place I should look for her was in the valley where I’d grown up. Not only had Scion once mentioned that my mother had been sent to Aftermath as a prisoner, but mother had grown up there. She was more familiar with that province than anywhere else in Elsewhere, and I felt certain that if she could not return to be with my sister and I, that’s where she would’ve gone.
My heart panged at the thought—as so often happened when I thought of my mother or my childhood, I wished Rosey was still here with me. Wished we were making this journey together, and wondered what she would’ve said about all that had come to pass in her absence.
Without warning, the first drops of rain touched my face, and I pushed them aside along with the sudden tears that burned at the backs of my eyes. Stop, I told myself firmly. There’s no time to wallow—not if I want to escape before anyone realizes I’m gone.
Making a quick decision, I swallowed my emotions and crept around the back of the inn. The rain kicked up as I stepped carefully through the mud, and in the distance a clap of thunder rattled through the wood. I groaned. Of all the times to be out of doors alone, the beginning of a storm was far from ideal. Although, with any luck, it would drive the creatures of the Waywoods into their homes, keeping them off my path.
One could always hope for small miracles.
I let out a sigh of relief as I reached the backside of the inn. Perhaps there were miracles to be had tonight, as I found myself looking at the wall of a rundown stable. I darted quickly inside, eager to avoid the rain.
The barn was dark, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust as the door swung shut behind me. The air in the barn was thick with the smell of wet hay and manure, mixed in with the musty aroma of old wood. There was an old mule in one of the first stalls, who couldn’t be bothered to even look up at me as I walked by. I cast it half a glance before moving on, making my way further down the rows.
If there was a horse worth stealing here in this miserable swamp town, I’d take it as a good omen.
As soon as the thought flitted through my mind, I spotted a strong chestnut mare on the far end of the right-hand row. The horse looked up at me with intelligent interest, and excitement flooded me.
“Hello there,”
I breathed in hushed tones. “Who do you belong to?”
The horse stomped her hoof, as if in answer, and I grinned. It didn’t matter who she belonged to, she was mine now.
I practically skipped forward, only to stop short as a loud clang echoed behind me.
I froze, and glanced over my shoulder. I glared at the mule, and scanned the other dark shadowed stalls. Nothing jumped out at me, or even breathed aside from the sleeping mule. I let out a breath—it must have been nothing.
In any case, I kept forgetting that I did not have to be quite so vigilant anymore. I could protect myself now…at least, I hoped I could.
Taking a calming breath, I turned back toward the mare, and gasped. My eyes widened, and I took a staggering step back. Ambrose Dullahan leaned against a stall in a space I was positive had been empty only seconds before. His arms were crossed, his posture casual, as if he’d been waiting here for me for some time. Which, I supposed, he could’ve been.
“You…”
I gasped, unable to form the words for anything else.
“Me,”
the prince replied, flashing me a cocky grin. “Were you expecting someone else?”
I stuttered, words failing me entirely.
Ambrose looked every part the rebel king, in mahogany stained leather armor with a sword strapped to his back and another on his hip. His obsidian gaze seemed to swallow the light around him and his silver hair was wild, shaved short on one side and pulled into a tight braid on the other. He had dark, swirling tattoos climbing up his neck and wore several hoop earrings and what looked to be a small bone stabbed through one of his pointed ears.
He exuded a rougher, more rugged aura than his brother, Scion, so while their features were similar, no one would confuse the two. If Scion could be described as ‘intense,’ and Bael as ‘dangerous,’ then Ambrose was ‘aggressive.’
Like a bucket of ice-cold water poured over my head, fear fell over me. “What are you doing here?”
The rebel leader grinned wider, as if he’d been hoping I would ask that. “You can leave the horse,”
he said, nodding to the mare. “You won’t need her where we’re going.”
“Excuse m?—”
I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence as a sharp pain cracked against the back of my skull, and everything went white.