5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

M y stomach drops faster than the severed head. Vibrant red blood sprays the sand as his body falls forward. The chaotic clamor of the growing crowd and the daughter's screams fade as my senses sharpen on the Crusader who stands before me. He steps over the body and points. "You'll submit to questioning or face execution."

He steps forward, my muscles tense, and the crowd parts.

I turn and bolt straight for the seaside market and docks, shoving several people out of my way. Oh gods, he's going to kill me. I'm going to die.

The carts and wagons at the market are a blur as I race through, knocking over crates, tables, and whatever I can along the way. A quick glance tells me he's not deterred by the debris. I choke on a sob and push myself harder, faster. I don't want to die.

The baker's cellar! I use the streetlamp as leverage for a sharp, fast turn and head downtown.

I take a complicated path, pointedly avoiding St. Agatha's and The Snakebeard. He's not a local, but he's fast, so he remains on my tail. Oh, mother of gods, help me! I'm not going to make it.

I skid in front of the baker's shop and run to the back cellar hidden behind empty fermenting barrels. The heavy metal doors creak as I pull them open, and damp, stale air fills my nose. I scramble down the steps and lower the door over my head just as the Crusader's shadow crosses between the barrels. I freeze, holding the heavy metal door centimeters open.

His shadow turns between the barrels, facing one way and the other. I hold my breath, fearful my gasps might give me away. He pants loudly and hunches over, heaving for breath. My arm trembles and my vision darkens around the edges. A weightlessness caresses my mind. I'm going to pass out if I don't breathe soon, and this heavy door will give me away.

My arm vibrates into my shoulder, threatening to give out just as the Crusader stands and jogs away. I expel the depleted air from my lungs and inhale precious, cool air. The cellar door closes with a metallic clang, and I take in the dimly lit space. Two cloudy windows to the north let in dimly filtered light, illuminating the wood shelves stocked full of flour, bread loaves, and spices.

I collapse into the dirt, hugging my knees. They're going to find me and kill me. Eoin and Tomas will be devastated. Or worse, they'll come after them too. My eyes close and I take slow, intentional breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth.

I deliberately move three parts: my toes, my fingers, and my shoulders with a shimmy. Next, I identify three objects in the room and name them aloud: "Rye bread, dried rosemary, a bag of dried yeast." With a deep exhale, a plan sparks to life.

I tuck two loaves of bread and the bundle of rosemary into my satchel. My hand lingers on the dried yeast for a moment before I tuck it into my bag as well. This will keep well on the road, and we can sell it later if we need to.

The cellar door creaks open, and I peer through the crack before climbing back out.

It's quiet. Gulls call faintly from the distant shore, and the steady clop of horse hooves against cobblestones sounds nearby. I feel exposed like a nerve in the light of day. Stalking under the cover of night isn't an option so I quickly change my usual tactics. My pace is slow and deliberate as I stride into the tailor's shop.

A bell rings above a door as it swings open. "Bronwyn!" A cheerful elderly woman greets me. "I haven't seen you since you outgrew your last cloak."

"Oh, hi, Gretchen." The doorbell dings again as another woman enters, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Gretchen's face darkens.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"I'm fine." I pull my change purse from my satchel. "Do you have any travel clothes in my size for . . ." I count the coins in the purse. "Four tantalum?"

Concern, or perhaps suspicion, fills her eyes. "I have something, but I'll need that dress you're wearing in addition to the coin."

She takes my coins and scurries off as I slip behind a dressing screen. I hang my dress over a chair and put on the new travel clothes. As I exit the shop, I swipe a tricorn hat off the sleeping drunk in the alley and tuck the bulk of my hair underneath it. No longer in an eye-catching dress, I continue on in blue-gray pants and a lightweight ivory tunic. It takes an effort not to run, though I do keep a brisk pace as I head home.

Eoin better still be here. A second burst of adrenaline rushes as I push open the double swinging doors of The Snakebeard and fly up the stairs. I bang continuously on the door until it opens.

"What?" he snaps with a scowl.

I ignore his irritated tone and wedge my way into the room, shutting the door behind me. "We're leaving now. "

"Girl, I told you I'm sleeping in. If you see something, just get it." He strides toward his now empty bed, dismissing me.

"No, Eoin. I've been compromised. They're coming for me." My voice shakes, and a lump forms in my throat. He stops in his tracks and turns to me. "They killed a man near the docks. There was blood everywhere." I fight to steady my breathing. "They found the mage lamp."

His face slackens. "How much time do we have?"

"Perhaps moments."

He rushes to his bed and flips the straw mattress. Removing a loose floorboard, he digs into our secret stash of coin and supplies. He takes three full coin purses and tosses the other two at me. "I'll get horses." He throws on a black tunic and boots before grabbing his travel bag. "Get your stuff and meet me at the livestock market."

"What about Tomas?"

"He's safer if we don't involve him. He's never practiced mage magic, and he's a kid. They don't mess with kids." He grabs my shoulders and pulls me close, hesitating inches from my face. "Be careful."

He leaves, the door swinging wide in his absence. I sprint down the hall and drop my satchel on top of my bed, freeing my arms. With swift, shaky fingers, I string on my dark green corset and tuck a sheathed blade between my breasts. My dresser skids loudly across the floor as I push it out of my way, revealing a hole in the wall. I pull out a small stack of maps and star charts before stuffing them and the coin purses into my travel bag, along with a change of clothes and some medicinal herbs.

I peer over the ledge to the bar below. All seems quiet. I slip my arms through the satchel and travel bag and layer them onto my back as I run down the stairs straight to the bar.

"Looking for something?" Jessa asks with curiosity.

Wedged far beneath the bar, I pull Eoin's old rune scrolls.

"Just this." I hand it to Jessa. "Can you tuck this into my satchel real fast?"

"Oh, sure." Her perfectly manicured brows furrow slightly, but she obliges. "Seems like you and Eoin are leaving after all."

"That does seem to be the case." I absently avoid her gaze and scan the windows and doors.

"Where are you going?" She's stiff. I want to trust her, but can't risk her running off and blowing my escape.

"We're going to visit family," I lie and walk toward the exit.

She wrinkles her nose. "You have family?"

Her jarring comment stops me in my tracks.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant." Her cheeks and ears redden. "Can you please give this to Eoin for me?" She pulls an envelope from her apron. "I don't want him to forget me."

"Oh gods, you're not pregnant, are you?"

"Of course not!" She looks utterly horrified and glances around while fidgeting with her necklace. "Eoin deserves a proper lady. Just please be careful. Make sure he reads my letter." She hugs me, and the smell of sweet peas and honey fills my nose.

"I will. Jessa, I really need to leave. We're in a hurry." Something squeezes my heart. "Could you please visit Tomas soon and tell him we had to leave earlier than we thought, and we'll write to him?"

"Of course."

Adjusting my posture, I take large strides, mimicking some of the female sailors I've encountered at work. Although I take the less traveled path, the streets still seem unusually quiet. I suspect the events at the beach have sent many people to the safety of their homes.

My mind is stuck somewhere between self-preservation with glances over my shoulder and sentimentality as I attempt to savor the journey. I'm not sure how long we will be gone. The balconies seem brighter and more grand, the hanging ferns even more vibrant. I dash over a small bridge to the next block and the nostalgia already hits me as I take in one of the many waterway streets Ravton Bay is famous for. Only the northwest portion of Ravton is floating, so I know I'm getting close to my destination.

After the longest and shortest half hour of my life, I return to regular cobblestone streets and arrive at the livestock market. The tense muscles in my jaw and neck relax as Eoin leads two horses from the back of the livestock barn. As usual, he's chosen ordinary-looking palfreys that won't draw any attention as we travel. They're already tacked and saddled; one has Eoin's tent and bag strapped to its back.

He spots me and jogs over, enveloping me in his arms. I squeeze him back.

We quickly strap my bags to my horse and mount up. Eoin clicks his tongue, urging his horse East, and I follow at a full gallop.

Ravton Bay slowly disappears behind us. We made it.

"I thought we were going to Ankaran," I shout over the beating of hooves. Now that there's no chance of someone overhearing, I feel comfortable mentioning our destination.

Eoin slows his horse to a walk, and mine follows suit. "We are," he says as he directs his horse beside mine. "Those Crusaders will check The Snakebeard and know that you've fled. The stableman will happily give up any information about us, including the direction we took off in. We will head to Riverstone and then double back with haste to Ankaran. It will cost us a day, but we will still make it by Lughnasa."

"You're brilliant."

A light twinkles in his eye. "Large-scale evasive maneuvers were one of my father's favorite training exercises with me."

***

The first days on the road are uneventful, and fortunately, the weather is mild. With Lughnasa approaching, sweltering days are not uncommon.

We pack up our campsite and prepare the horses for our last stretch of road into Ankaran. My bag tips and out tumbles not one, but two books: the travel one and Fae: Friend or Foe? That woman—I think back to how she was staring at me and my ears. She must have stuck this in my bag.

My stomach turns, remembering her lack of shadow. An uncomfortable feeling lingers in my chest as I shove them back in the bag and strap it to the saddle.

I shake it from my mind and focus on the positive. The sun is shining, and Eoin and I feel very much back to normal: talking, joking, and carrying on. This feels like any one of our other adventures. We even have a good laugh about Jessa's letter.

"She's a proper lady, Eoin!"

Eoin howls with laughter. "She's too young and too naive." We crest a grassy hill, and Ankaran comes into view. The iconic bridge crossing Gooseneck River is the nicest I've come across in our travels. Made entirely of red bricks, it arches across the river and appears to be wide enough for at least three carriages to pass across at once. Three gatehouses are stationed across the bridge, each with an iron gate raised high for travelers to pass through.

"I thought she was pregnant, and I was about to freak out even more," I say to Eoin, urging my horse closer to his.

"Not likely. I take herbs religiously." He looks over his shoulder at me. "I brought extra. You should start taking them, too."

"Mighty forward of you," I say mockingly.

"It's not like that. I just think it's a good idea. It won't hurt. Besides, we will be in a new town during a prodigious celebration." He smiles at me with that perfect smile, and I know he won't have any trouble finding a good time tonight.

"I guess I could start it up just in case. But Eoin, there's something I need to tell you."

He urges his horse off the road, and I follow. We allow a carriage to pass us by before I continue. "I don't think I'm having trouble regenerating my magic because I'm half-fae." I bite my lip and shift in my saddle. "I can't regenerate in the sunlight. I'm fairly certain I've been regenerating around sexual energy, and sometimes that just happens to be in daylight, which is why I was confused."

Eoin frowns slightly. "You think you're a Siren Fae? They're supposed to be extinct."

"I would bet my entire savings that I am one. I know it doesn't make sense." I search his face, trying to read his expression while my hands sweat into the leather of the reigns. I know he won't turn me in, but what if this burden is too much? What if he doesn't want to travel with me?

Eoin bursts out laughing, startling my horse. "You mean to tell me all the times you were standing around in your favorite spot by the Dockside Brothel, it wasn't because it was ‘extra sunny' like you said?"

He laughs harder, and images of Madame Camilla shouting at me, ‘If you're not going to come in here and work, get the hell off of our porch,' run through my mind.

"I'm glad you find it so funny. I thought you'd be more concerned, given they supposedly killed all the Sirens for a reason."

"Ah, yes, the fabled curse," he says. "And I am concerned. We'll have to be very careful no one catches on."

"Yes, so you see my hesitation with bedding someone."

"I do. You don't want some lovesick puppy following you around the rest of your life because you're the best lay he's ever had. Do you think the curse is real or just a myth? I mean, you've been with someone before, and nothing happened."

"I have, but that was before my magic came in. I'm not sure what to believe. And it's not like I have anyone to ask since they liked to lop off siren heads almost as much as they do mage ones. That's the real curse, if you ask me."

Eoin doesn't respond, and we ride in silence toward the bridge. My mind wanders, and a combination of nervousness and excitement builds within me. Once we cross through those gates, we will be in the fae realm, and for me, there might not be any going back.