3. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
I frowned as raised voices snared my attention. The hag didn’t stir, but I straightened, tense. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was obvious one voice among the others was angrier than the rest. I slipped off the bed and crept to the cloth door, pulling it aside to peek through. It was only midday, and I needed another hour or two of hiding until I could meet up with Lyana and Ethyan. It seemed like this side of the lewd district would be quiet any time of day, but the ruckus had me second guessing that theory.
I dropped the greasy fabric as the voices came closer. They were looking for someone… which didn’t bode well for me.
“What’s this girl of yours look like? She a mirror image of the hag that birthed you?”
Several men burst into raucous laughter at the remark, their amusement mingling with the shuffling steps and the clap of slapping backs in good humor.
“There was a young one.”
Panic threatened to close my throat at the rasped words. So much for confidentiality.
“Fine lady, where–”
Curse that voice. I tore out, rushing past the group. A hand snagged my shirt, tearing it open. I cursed, holding it shut as I sped down the lane.
Just because Sainte never used Common Muik with me, obviously didn’t mean he couldn’t speak it.
Shouts and jeers broke out behind, but I distanced myself quickly. A heavy jingle echoing my every step told me he was on the move, tight on my heels. I scoffed at the idea of being outpaced by anyone, let alone a man in armor, and I pushed myself harder, clutching my shirt together. Not that anyone in this district would bat an eye at some bare skin .
Around the corner, I sidestepped and whirled behind a couple navigating the busy street. Despite a slip on some grime, I maintained balance and lunged ahead. I was born for this. These were my streets, and I cursed the day some outsider caught me.
I was close to the main road. From there, I could make my way anywhere in the city. When I rounded the next bend, I pulled short so fast that my feet slipped from under me, and my arse collided with the hard ground. At the lane’s entrance, a squad of soldiers fixed their gaze on me, unlike any I encountered before. Clad in dark armor that bespoke neither mercenary nor local, they stood out with a striking presence.
“Pig dung and fish guts!” I cursed.
Their heavy jogging steps closed in, and I scrambled to my feet. I dashed between two huts, causing the residents to scatter. Gripping the stone wall, I searched for footholds, only to find the surface slick with grime and soot, denying me any purchase.
“Elspeth.”
“Sainte,” I sneered, drawing out his name as I faced him.
His eyes darted to my shirt, then back to my face as I lifted my chin and crossed my arms, emboldened with defiance. His breaths heaved, though not as heavily as I preferred after the run I just gave him.
“Come with me.”
“No.”
His features flashed with irritation, revealing a side of him I’d never seen before. Perhaps, like me, he had undergone his own growth during our time apart.
“I am not asking.”
“And I’m not negotiating.” I snarled.
He moved fast, catching me off guard as I backed into the wall, my blade forgotten. The notion of needing it against Sainte hadn’t crossed my mind. He cornered me, hands by my head, his large frame blocking my path. His proximity allowed me to notice a few silver hairs near his temple. Just a few, but enough to challenge me to surpass him.
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You choose.” His High Wynter was crisp and cold, like everything from the North.
My breath quickened, and my ears perked to the sounds above. I reached out, fingers tracing the contours of his chest before cupping his face. His eyes transformed from anger and irritation to that familiar scowl of confusion and perplexity, an expression I dreamt of often.
I held his glare, my own narrowed with repulsion. “I don’t choose you.”
My knee snapped up, landing a blow between his legs. He doubled over with a wheezing grunt. Ethyan took that moment to loose an arrow, straight through the arm boxing me in. Sainte growled, dropping to one knee as a rope fell onto my shoulder. I spun and climbed it with the agility of a jungle monkey, hauling the rope’s tail along with me. Sainte was as stubborn as I remembered. He would’ve attempted to follow.
Lyana gathered the rope from me when I reached the top.
“Go!” I shouted, breaking into a sprint.
Ethyan kept pace beside us, his bow slung over his shoulder. “I thought he was a good guy?!” he yelled over the cacophony of birds and sailors’ calls as we neared the bustling docks.
“Good guy?!” Lyana hissed, arms pumping at her sides. “Crushing El’s heart, leaving her in the dirt?! Good guy?!”
I ignored them as we rushed into the port, edging around shipmen and, in all probability, pirates as well. We slipped into an alley under the cover of men loading barrels into a wagon.
“He’s—normally–” I gasped for air, propped against the wall as my limbs trembled from exertion.
“Gods and goddesses!” Lyana stood before me, her stance defiant and eyes ignited with determination. “I will kill him. I will cut past those abs of steel and rip out his heart,” she snarled as she tugged the scraps of my shirt closed.
With a breathless laugh, I straightened to tie the scraps with the rope—it was gone.
“Curse it. I lost my rope.” I fumbled about my body for something else to use.
“Here.” Ethyan removed his belt and offered it to me. It was a beat up strip of leather barely hanging together, but belts were hard to come by.
I gave a remorseful smile in thanks, then gestured to the tear. “He didn’t do this. I think it was a guard as I ran past.”
His sister sighed, her anger hardly diminished. “Hiding in Hag Lane was a good bet, though.” She collapsed beside me and let her head fall back to peer into the cloudless sky.
We took a moment to catch our breaths, then made our way out. Neither sailors nor guards would take kindly to street rats hanging about the port. Too many high-end goods came in and out for it to go unguarded.
“What does he want?” Ethyan murmured as we kept our heads down, walking aimlessly.
Lyana snorted with a roll of her eyes. “To kiss and make up?”
I limped along feeling a pebble work its way in through a hole in my boot. “He’s never come early before. And he’s always been alone.”
“Those were Wynterian soldiers?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. ”
Most of my memories were a blurred haze at this point. I was only six when he rescued me. I shivered at the reminder and shoved it aside.
“They seemed to be with him,” she offered.
“But not hired help,” her brother mused. “Their armor was too fine.”
“Why would he need backup for a visit? Oh, don’t tell me he switched sides!”
“Traitor,” he muttered.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “He wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“Then why the show of force?” she asked. “If he came to apologize, why would he need others?”
“He wanted me to go with him.”
Ethyan wiggled his eyebrows. “To Wynterborne or an inn?”
Lyana and I shrieked in unison as I gave him a playful shove.
“You never know, he could just want to ‘kiss and make up.’”
I scanned the crowd as the two bickered. Sainte was just a few paces away, his eyes locked on me. He led the small group of soldiers in our direction, bystanders ducking out of their way.
“Guys?” I groaned.
Lyana grabbed the crook of my arm. “Oh, son of a sailor.”
“Are we running?” Ethyan asked, gripping his bow.
I stood my ground, clenching my jaw, staring Sainte down. I hoped for a limp in his gait, but found none. Instead, I noticed a white cloth wrapped around his right forearm, soaked in fresh crimson.
For some reason that didn’t bring me any joy.
Ethyan bounced on his heels, ready to dart. “Perhaps the caves?”
“El can’t swim,” Lyana grumbled.
“What about the temple? Would they offer harbor?”
She ignored him, tugging on my elbow. “Shouldn’t we be running?”
My confidence faltered and I sighed. “He always finds me.”
Sainte and his group came to a stop ten paces away. His mouth set into a firm line, disapproval heavy on his brow.
“ Eneyet .”
Always.
The escort made us feel like criminals—which we were—though I didn’t appreciate feeling that way. His soldiers surrounded us. Their silent, brooding gazes openly sized me up while ignoring my friends. One dared a smile and winked, as if this were all a game. Perhaps he was the friendliest of the lot .
Sainte guided us away from the port, eastward, toward the more reputable part of town. We rarely wandered here, simply because we had morals too, and the people who worked and lived here were generally good folk. We stuck to the undercity, where survival meant taking—a gritty realm of constant exchanges and murky intentions.
We entered an inn far more respectable than the ones I frequented, though I never slept in one, only tasted their fare. I narrowed my eyes at the abundance of flickering candles scattered around the room, noting the pristine condition of the tables.
Ethyan let out a low whistle.
“No layer of grime,” Lyana murmured, crowding so close she bumped into me. “You didn’t tell me he came from money.”
“He’s from Wynterborne.” I shrugged, watching as Sainte turned his head a fraction so he could hear us more clearly.
“Got his hand in the royal coffers, eh?” Ethyan jeered. “Talk about a traitor.”
“Elspeth, come with me,” he called in High Wynter.
My feet slowed to a stubborn halt, trying to appear braver than I was. “Where I go, so do my friends.”
“Where you go,” he said, stepping into my space, “your friends cannot.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
A soldier to my side snorted, and I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. He was tall and lanky, with light-brown hair that hung over his forehead in a boyish way. His amber gaze twinkled with mischief as he offered a grin in response to my study.
Lyana put her back to her brother, eyes dancing between me and Sainte. “What’s he saying, El?”
He glanced up at the ceiling as if sending a prayer to the gods for patience. “I would have a word,” he tried. “Your friends can stay here.”
I rocked on my heels, kicking out my hip with a brow raised high. “And what will stop your friends from getting a little excited and lopping off heads?”
“Whoa, what?” Ethyan choked.
“Please…” Sainte’s jaw tightened as he spoke, muscles twitching.
“Aren’t these the good guys?” Lyana’s voice pitched higher. “That was established… wasn’t it?”
“Us? Good?” The friendly one tilted his head back, releasing a hearty laugh that reverberated throughout the room. The remaining servers departed in a hurry. “Sweets, we’re not the good guys.”
At least he wasn’t afraid to use the common tongue.
“Comforting,” Lyana replied with a dry scowl.
“Urien, enough,” Sainte snapped.
He grabbed hold of me with his uninjured arm, and the soldiers encircled us. They fidgeted with nerves, each resting their hand on the hilt of their weapons.
“When she acts like a princess, feel free to treat her as one,” he bit out, then hauled me across the room.
I yelped and fought, wrenching at his strong grip, while my friends created a commotion nearby. Unfazed, he continued, dragging me up a flight of stairs and down the hall. I fired curses, stumbling behind and jerking my arm for good measure. He kicked open a door and practically threw me inside, then stormed in after me, slamming it shut. When he faced me, I propped my hands on my hips and arched a daring brow.
“Honestly?” He exhaled, motioning toward his injury. The haphazard bandage was damp with fresh blood. It was obvious he dressed it in a rush before intercepting us at the port.
“Well, are you the good guy?” My tongue tripped over the High Wynterian. After all this time, it felt more foreign than Muik.
“Do you know who the bad guy is, Elspeth?” His tone dropped to a tired drone as he pulled a chair in front of the door and settled in.
“According to you, it’s my brother.” I glanced toward the window on the opposite wall. I had jumped from greater heights. “What do you want with me, Sainte? You left me alone for years. Why now?”
He squinted at me, lips pressed in a firm line as if working some mystery out. “You’re almost twenty-one.”
I blinked, waiting for him to elaborate, but he stared, as if expecting a response.
“And that’s different from my twentieth birthday… how?” I asked. “Don’t act like I’m supposed to know anything, Sainte. You took me from Wynterborne when I was six. It’s not as if I was an endless fountain of knowledge at that age.”
He groaned and dropped his head. His left hand dragged down his face, pulling at his distraught features.
My heart twinged at the sight, and I rolled my eyes at my stupidity. I would not argue with him about this. It was pointless to even ask about it. I dipped into a crouch in front of him, waiting until his bright gaze met mine before I spoke. “Twenty-one or no, I’m not going back.”
That got him to sit up.
He straightened as if someone shoved a rod up his arse, his glare piercing, cool eyes ablaze with fury. “You are Princess Elspeth, second in line to the Kingdom of Wynterborne.”
I waited a moment, then pushed myself to stand. “What, no more titles to add?”
“You’ve been missing for fifteen years. You’ve earned no titles beyond the Lost Princess. People assume you ran, succumbed to Winter’s Bite. ”
“See? Lovely place. I’m sure everyone wants to go where winter gnaws off fingers and limbs, where cold steals away your breath and turns your lungs to ice. Sounds grand, but I’ll pass.”
“You have a responsibility to your people.”
“My people?!” I scoffed. “Let them think I’m dead. I owe them nothing. When were they there for me? When did they rise to protect me when my brother cackled down the halls of my home, singing about my head on a pike?”
“The affairs of court are not for the common man to interfere.”
Frustration edged in, furious that he attempted to burden me with the weight of an entire kingdom. “And you’re not a common man? What makes you so special? Why did you save me, Sainte?!”
“To save our people!” he roared and launched to his feet.
I scrambled backward, my heart pounding, and flinched as he stormed toward me with swift, purposeful strides.
“You criticize their lack of protection, but are you not equally to blame, allowing a madman to rule in your stead?! You’re not doing them justice!”
My back thumped against the wall. But he kept coming, sparks flying from his eyes.
“I rescued you, believing you might one day be our people’s salvation! Not to watch you roam the streets like some common thief. I didn’t risk my life for a petty brat!” He threw his right fist at the wall, wincing at the pain, his glare intense as he loomed over me.
Hot, angry tears blurred my vision, and I gritted my teeth, trying to blink them away. They spilled down my cheeks regardless of my efforts, scouring slick trails through the sweat and grime. “Sorry to be such a waste.”
If I could turn back time, I’d have thanked him for leaving me. His words cut deeper than his absence ever could.
“Elspeth.” My name sounded as if it was being torn from his throat. He groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder with a sigh. “You said you owe no one. That’s a lie.”
I clenched my jaw, unwilling to accept the next words I knew were coming. “Don’t,” I whispered.
He pulled away, leveling his gaze with mine. “You owe me.”
“Don’t ask this of me,” I strained. “Sainte, I would have given you anything if you had stayed—my heart, my crown, my life. All of it was yours.” My voice broke, and I choked back sobs.
He was right. He was the only person I owed anything to—the one I owed everything to. I shook my head, ducking under his outstretched limb to distance us. He let me pass, resting his forehead against his injured arm.
“Elspeth, stay with me. ”
Those words crushed my heart all over again. A sob tore through me as I flung the chair aside and yanked the door open. Without a word, I walked away, leaving him as he once left me.