Chapter 9

S un gleamed through the guest room window as I awoke with crusty lashes and aching muscles. I had slept so deeply it was as if I'd awoken from the dead. Rubbing my eyes and stretching limbs now speckled with dark purple bruises, I threw off the covers and started towards the window. The cobblestone of the street was now covered entirely with snow and a deep, frozen breeze whistled through the draft between the panes. Arcturas curled her spine and yawned widely.

"Good morning, little one. Looks like you slept as well as I did." She sniffed towards me, shaking her thick pelt. All was quiet in the house, save for the popping of grease in a skillet downstairs. Combing tendrils of hair into a bun atop my head, I stepped into the hallway with the looming aroma of pork belly and sausages. Arcturas zoomed down the flight of stairs, nearly losing her step and crashing to the bottom. A faint chuckle and the clank of a metal spatula echoed to the second floor.

"Ah, you're awake," Frya said, smudging grease on her apron as I entered the tavern's main room. Each set of chairs was flipped onto their tables and the floor was swept. It was only an hour or two after sunrise. I wondered what time Frya had started her day. She flipped the slices of pork belly with a sizzle and began cracking eggs into a wooden bowl.

"I hope you're hungry. I went a little overboard with the cooking this morning. Your little companion is gonna love the extra servings I made for her." She smiled brightly, no trace of the cold, witchy woman from the night before. Arcturas stretched her neck, standing on hind legs against the kitchen counter. Her nose sniffed frantically at the cooking meat.

"You best get down and out of my kitchen, little wolf, or you'll be getting nothing this morning!" Frya swatted her spatula at Arcturas's tail, swinging droplets of oil across the room. With a yip, the pup scampered out, stopping to lick the bits of grease that had landed in her path.

"You seem…different this morning. Now that you know who I am," I pressed, my voice trailing off as Frya glanced up from her stove.

Her lips curved into a thin line and she returned to the eggs now bubbling in her iron skillet. I shuffled to the hearth, my eyes never leaving the ancient woman. Rubbing my hands in the radiating warmth, I watched as she transferred the eggs to a cracked serving bowl and placed them on the bar.

"I ain't gonna get the city guard if that's what you're suggesting," she snapped, sliding a plate down the bar towards me. I reached for a fork and poked at the steaming eggs.

"I also ain't gonna poison you, so you best eat up before those get cold." With creaking knees, the barkeep bent to place a small plate of pork belly and chicken livers on the floor. Arcturas trotted over to her, grabbed a slice of meat, and began flinging it from side to side. She leaped joyously as she toyed with her prey.

"Hey! This ain't the wild, you beast! Don't be dirtying up my nice clean floors!" Frya jutted her bony finger at the pup. Arcturas skidded to a halt and guiltily swallowed the slice whole. Burying her face in her plate, she began slopping up her breakfast.

"I guess I'm just a little suspicious. Why are you being so kind to me? I'm an escaped alleged murderer." The barstool creaked beneath my weight as I leaned in to pop a forkful of food into my mouth.

Scowling, Frya smoothed back her thinning, grey hair.

"If you don't want my hospitality, you know where the door is. And guilty or not, the late Queen's death was the best thing to happen to this city in a long time." She plopped a spoonful of rubbery egg on to her own plate and took a seat across from me.

"Aren't you afraid of my murderous tendencies sending me straight to your bed while you sleep?" I stabbed an egg with my fork.

"No, I'm not afraid of your violent streak, Lady Elpis. Not all city folk trust the Elders' judgements. I certainly don't."

My cheeks reddened as I bit into a crunchy slice of pork belly, the fat melting on my tongue. We finished our breakfasts in silence, avoiding the barkeep's penetrating gaze as she crunched on the remaining sausages straight from the skillet. Arcturas scampered to the tavern's entrance, her ears back in a defensive stance, and growled deeply towards the door. Alarm stitched through me.

"Quick, down to the wine cellar. You two stay quiet until I give the okay. The city guard's doing their rounds collecting up all the drunks and thieves this morning. That's probably them now, wanting the late-night crowd who overstay their welcome." Frya led us hastily into the kitchen and whipped the reed utility mat aside to reveal a small trap shoot in the floor. Pulling together on the ring handle, we lifted the square door, disturbing a thick layer of spider webs as it swung open. Ushering Arcturas down the stone cellar stairs, I trailed behind her.

"Not a peep," Frya said, shutting the door behind me. Dust fell from the creases in the wooden flooring as she pulled the utility mat back into place.

The cellar itself was pitch dark. Heart pounding, I didn't dare move as I silently inhaled the stale air. Arcturas sniffed at the corners of the room, her nails scraping against the rough stone. Scooping her into my arms, I stroked her little head to keep her from whining. Above us, two muffled male voices conversed with Frya's familiar croak. I held my breath, praying to the Gods that Arcturas would remain silent in my arms as footsteps entered the kitchen above.

"I told you, the storm scared the usual suspects away last night. There's no one here. And I haven't seen or heard of Lady Elpis since they sent her to that tower," Frya scowled.

My blood turned to ice. So the search party had made it to the city. It didn't come as a surprise that word would've made it back to the city guard; however, it still sent a boulder down my throat to think of the Elders' reaction to my escape. And what of Vikar? Would they reprimand him? Surely they couldn't. I thought of the guard who'd delivered my birthday gift. He'd been in a royal uniform, meaning a royal guard. He was sworn to the king and to use discretion when carrying out assigned tasks. A royal guard would rather be sent to death than betray the trust of his commander. Vikar was untouchable, and hopefully free from the suspicion of the Elders.

"I know it's a pain, ma'am, but we're checking every establishment for her. She's dangerous and unpredictable. We're just trying to keep the city safe," one voice said as footsteps paused directly above the trapdoor.

"Well, she ain't here. Just me and the drunks," Frya snapped as her limping step followed behind the second voice.

Groans of cupboards opening and closing echoed through the floorboards as I continued holding my breath. Don't look under the mat. Don't look under the mat. I begged, desperately stroking Arcturas's pelt beneath shaking hands. She stared with an intense ferocity at the cellar's ceiling, but continued to stay silent. I promised that if she stayed quiet, and we avoided being caught, I'd buy her a steak bigger than her whole body.

"Who's the second breakfast for if you're here by yourself?" the other voice questioned.

Frya seemed to stop dead in her tracks. There was a desperate hesitation and finally, with a convincing sharpness Frya replied, "A tenant had just stepped out before you arrived. I was about to clean this mess until I was rudely interrupted by the likes of you two."

There was silence then. Dear Gods, I hope they bought it. Frya had managed enough irritation in her tone to mask the quiver in her throat. Seconds dripped by like a leak to a faucet, my heart pumping in overdrive. The blood rushed to my face and I felt a deep roaring in my ears. More shuffling footsteps. The click of Frya's small feet stopped directly above the trap chute.

"Alright then, Ma'am. We won't take up any more of your morning," the first voice said.

Hearing the footsteps recede and the sound of the front door swing open then closed, I finally exhaled. Relief washed over me. I let Arcturas wriggle out of my grasp as light poured into the shadowy cellar from Frya struggling to lift the grainy wooden door.

"Alright, come on out," she said, offering me a small, leathery hand.

Grasping for it, I climbed up the steps and into the kitchen, Arcturas sprinting by me.

"Thanks for not giving me up." I smiled towards the barkeep, now flicking a speck of dust off her crudely stained apron.

"At least now you can stop eyeballin' me every move I make." Turning the spout, Frya began scrubbing away at the breakfast dishes in her basin sink.

"I appreciate it," I said, handing her a plate. "I'm sorry for not trusting you. It's just been… a rough few years. I'm not used to such kindness." Speckles of sympathy flashed in Frya's eyes as I choked back the knot now forming in my throat. A silent pause thickened the air between us.

"Well," she cleared her throat and continued scrubbing, "I expect you to earn your keep around here. I ain't no charity. There's a bag of potatoes and carrots in the stores that need peeling." She nodded to the door opposite the stove.

"Right, of course," I said, crossing the room and swinging the door open. Glancing back towards the old barkeep, I thanked her once more. I swear a glimmer of a smile swiped across those ancient lips as I stepped into the stores and worked.

The deep blue bruises faded to green, then to yellow as I began my quiet life in the backrooms of the tavern. Calluses formed on my palms from the days of sweeping, cleaning, and peeling vegetables. When I wasn't in the kitchen stores, I was at the sink- scrubbing a sticky, wine stained chalice.

Frya wasn't joking when she said I'd earn my keep. Most nights were dreamless. I'd instantly drift to sleep when my cheek hit the pillow. Some nights, I dreamt only of the tower- waking in a dazed fit, thinking the tavern was just my imagination and I was still imprisoned in that lifeless place.

Those nights I'd throw off the covers and pace beside the window, staring at the cobblestone street below until finally my breathing evened and the shivers of the lingering nightmare subsided. With every paralyzing nightmare, a piece I'd fought so hard to rebuild crumbled again.

My wolf companion was there to guide me back when I'd lost my way too deep into myself. If my thoughts carried me away, she'd lick my toes and nip at my heels until I returned to steady ground. And when I crumpled to the floor like a piece of parchment, she was there, licking away the tears and snuggling into me, her warmth chasing away the frigid defeat spreading through my abdomen.

She had nearly doubled in size after only two weeks at the tavern, her little body beginning to fill into a muscular frame under wiry, jet black fur. Her fangs grew sharper and longer. Her eyes were more piercing and predatory. As she grew, our bedchamber shrank. I knew she yearned to stretch her legs. I'd watch her gaze longingly out the windows, her nose pressed so close to the glass it scrunched an inch up her snout. No matter how much scolding the wolf received from our hostess, she still left runny smudges against the glass.

I, too, craved the crisp air of the glade. The crunch of snow beneath boots and the white, gleaming sun flickering between the pines sang to me. If I closed my eyes and truly concentrated, I convinced myself that those mourning doves and winter finches faintly chirped their melodies in my ear. A secret song, just for me .