Chapter 40 The Barricade
Leena felt like it was mere moments before she was jerked awake by the door slamming open.
She hadn’t meant to close her eyes, nor had she meant to fall asleep—especially as she hadn’t even had the chance to line the bed with salt yet. Leena jolted into a sitting position, still feeling the burn of Bram’s lips on her own. He lay beside her, his eyes still closed.
Leena sighed with relief when she realized it was not a phantom that had disturbed her but the innkeeper. His large frame bustled through the door, his forehead red and blotchy.
“Pack your belongings, m’dear. You both must leave now.”
Leena’s foggy mind could not adjust to the sudden change in events. She looked at the innkeeper without comprehension. “Leave? We’ve paid for the night.”
The innkeeper scattered the coins on the floor, one rolling beneath the bed. “There—I’ve refunded you the full amount. Do not dawdle.”
Leena rose from the bed sharply. “I don’t understand.”
The innkeeper waved a beefy hand. “Ain’t your fault. The whole town’s gone mad for revolution. No one has been down in the mines for a week. Tonight there’s been talk that your friend Martin sent for the King’s soldiers to capture those leading the protest.”
Leena’s blood froze, forcing her to be fully awake now. “What does that have to do with us?”
“The townspeople have gone bloodthirsty; they’re even building a damned barricade against the soldiers,” the innkeeper growled. “Once the townsmen hear of your relationship to Mr. Martin, they will tear apart my inn to get to you and your…husband.”
By initially claiming Martin’s protection, she had successfully managed to procure shelter, but hours later this same protection had led to their eviction. She looked out the window, the glass laced with ice, the snow falling so fast that the night sky was a white haze.
“My husband is gravely injured.” Leena drew herself up to her full height, staring at him with fierce eyes. “We’ve done nothing wrong. If we are forced out into this weather, he will not last the night.”
The innkeeper shrugged, not bothering with false geniality anymore. “I’ll not have trouble inside my inn.”
He made as if to walk toward Bram, but Leena stood in his way.
“We will leave,” Leena ground out, “but we will need a moment to prepare ourselves, and you will wait downstairs until then.”
The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he retreated, leaving the door open.
Leena knelt down and collected the coins off the floor, even stretching her aching shoulder to reach the one beneath the bed, trying to blink the tears from her eyes.
Dangerous as the town might be at the present, she had no choice now but to make her way to the old housekeeper’s cottage, and who was to say that the old woman would even remember or welcome her? But that was the only refuge remotely open to them.
She was loath to shake Bram awake, not when he needed every moment of rest she could give him. His forehead still burned even beneath the cool cloth.
He blinked at her, trying to latch on to her words, but his mind was too hazy.
Finally, he gained some understanding of the urgency of their situation and stumbled out of bed before shrugging on his coat.
Leena patted his pocket again to ensure that the red diary had not slipped out—she dreaded losing it after they had sacrificed so much to acquire it—and was reassured by the feel of its firm outline.
It was jarring to see the dreaded Saint of Silence so vulnerable. Once, she’d gone to St. Silas for medication to save Rami’s life. How everything had now shifted between them—power, hierarchy, even loyalty.
Leena took his hand, leading him down the stairs and into the lobby where the innkeeper watched them from behind the desk. She felt comforted by the heavy weight of Bram’s pistol in her pocket; her own had been lost in the crypts.
Once more that night they were out in the bleak cold without shelter.
Leena stood on the steps, trying to remember the directions to the housekeeper’s cottage.
That way was Weavingshaw, its lights visible through the white mist. To the left was the town, where even from here she could hear the steady hum of discordant chanting. To the right was the country road.
Leena struggled with herself for a moment before she led Bram toward the path that ran deeper into the maze of clustered houses. She huddled close to him to shield him from the bite of the wind, their boots struggling to grip the icy cobbled streets.
The shouting intensified. Once they reached the town square, Leena understood why.
It was complete chaos.
Townsfolk ran in all directions, collecting weapons to throw down by the steps of the church. Pickaxes, scythes, helmets, rusted swords, and farming equipment were all laid down in piles.
Chants could be heard like tidal waves, so it took Leena a moment to piece together what was being shouted: Long live the people.
Paint-splattered letters were written everywhere, on the fences, on the wooden posts, on the doors: King Edmund will fall.
Someone had attempted to form a barricade but had abandoned the project halfway, leaving a sad fence with a few wooden planks, a dozen chairs, and a wardrobe turned on its side. If the army was truly coming, then the entire town wouldn’t last the week.
Leena recognized a handful of Martin’s servants in the crowd, their faces lit by a steel-can flame. Leena kept her head low. She urged Bram onward, but he struggled under her grip.
Swerving, she saw a face in the crowd that she recognized instantly.
Mackenzie Crane, bruiser of the Black Coats. His right earlobe was completely missing, and his hand was heavily bandaged thanks to Bram’s shot.
His head turned at that moment.
Leena’s breath hitched. He had seen them, and was now cutting through the crowd in their direction.
She faltered, tugging Bram by the hand toward the first dark alleyway she encountered, quickening their strides.
But Mackenzie had followed them.
With a wild sort of fright, she heard hard footsteps clicking behind them on the cobblestones, steadily gaining pace.
Leena tore into the maze of streets, guiding them deeper into the township and the clustered houses. Still, no matter where she turned, Mackenzie’s footsteps followed.
A flicker of shadow ahead of them.
Theodore Daye emerged, his eyes frantic, urging them forward.
There was no other way to go but onward. Leena briefly considered going back to face Mackenzie Crane rather than follow Theodore Daye, who had already betrayed them once, but that seemed like a deadlier option.
“Please,” Leena sobbed, staggering to a stop. “Do not lead us astray again, Theo. Please.”
Theodore Daye halted at her words. His skin turned unearthly pale, and he averted his face. No longer did he beckon her forward. His entire body seemed to crumple in shame.
Leena heard the sounds of Mackenzie’s approach growing steadily closer.
Bram’s head came up. He tugged at her. “No…Leena…we cannot…Theo…”
“I know,” she soothed, even though her own heart quaked.
But there was nowhere else to go.
Before Leena could decide whether to trust Theo and go forward, or turn around and face Mackenzie with Bram’s pistol, the choice was no longer hers to make.
She hadn’t seen the figure crouched in anticipation of their arrival until his strong hands had gripped her by the hair, dragging her away from Bram and into an open doorway at the side of the alley.
She scratched the attacker, hearing a grunt when she raked her nails down his arm, all the while trying to reach for Bram’s pistol, but her assailant’s grip didn’t loosen.
“Enough, dearie.”
She froze, recognizing that voice. “You?”
Only a single sconce burned in the house, and in that pool of light she could see the ugly face of Mr. Orley, demon leader of the Black Coats.
Bram staggered after her, lunging for the pistol that was hidden in Leena’s pocket.
Orley, expecting this, jammed his fist into Bram’s wound. Leena gasped as Bram let out a guttural moan before slumping onto the floor, unconscious. Blood bloomed through his shirt and stained the hardwood floor.
Orley wiped his hands delicately on a handkerchief. Theodore Daye stood by his elbow, refusing to meet Leena’s eyes.
“Now that he is asleep, my love,” Orley said pleasantly, “we can speak freely.”