by Zel Spasov
Mira emerges from the crowd, dressed in a light-blue gown. Her red curls fall freely on her face, cascading about her shoulders. A small freckle on her left cheek draws his attention. For some reason, this small detail makes his heart skip a beat. He feels foolish in his green tights. Latest fashion, my ass. Latest fashion for people who publicly make fools out of themselves and never wear tights ever again.
Mira sees him and smiles. If the sight of her wasn’t enough to make his heart stop beating, her smile is. Her warmth makes it start again, just in time before Cayden faints due to a lack of blood circulation.
They greet each other. Cayden offers his arm just like the maids taught him. Mira refuses to take it. They didn’t teach him what to do in such a case. She goes into the crowd, and he follows her, in a confused, rather uncomfortable manner. The maids didn’t tell him what to do when the woman takes the initiative.
They spend the whole night walking around the city, drinking wine and laughing. As they watch the rising sun, they fall asleep in each other’s arms. While they’re sleeping, a white dove defecates on Cayden's shoulder.
***
Cayden’s angry. No, he’s furious. He’s never been so furious in his life. Mira’s rage is just as strong. Her hair shining bright red, like it’s on fire. The two of them stand opposite each other in the living room of their small Sofia apartment. She holds a lamp and he, a thick medical book. They stare at each other, sparks flying between them. He doesn’t even remember why they’re arguing. He just knows he’s right, and she’s wrong. Definitely. Just looking at her burns him up. Once again, Cayden's heart stops beating. It dawns upon him that he loves her. Everything he feels toward her, the bad and the good, flows together in a stream, filling him up from head to toe. Love. He sees the same thing in her eyes. They both breathe heavily, emotions running high. Cayden wonders if they’re going to kill each other this time. They close the distance between one another, but instead of throwing punches, they drop their respective weapons, his lips covering hers in a long, warm kiss, leaving both of them breathless.
***
Agapea celebrates its biggest festival so far—the royal wedding. Cayden and Mira are getting married. He stands at the altar, dressed in a royal mantle. Fortunately, this time he managed to dissuade the maids from making him wear tights. There’s a lively bustle in the square where the ceremony is being held. Suddenly, the noise stops. Mira appears, dressed in a bright white gown. This is the happiest day of Cayden’s life. The priest marries them, and in the light of the setting sun, King Cayden and Queen Mira Starosta greet the jubilant crowd.
***
Time started to move again. Cayden emerged from the sea of memories and feelings that had overwhelmed him. He took a deep breath and shouted, “Mira!”
He couldn’t say anything else. The queen's fist crashed into his face and sent him, unconscious, to the floor.
Chapter 11
M onsieur Gèroux had been climbing up the mountain for several hours, chasing after his prey. Instead of following the main road, now cluttered by caravans, the wolf had chosen to ascend the sheer cliff in order to shorten the distance between himself and the fugitives. Only thanks to his physical training was he able to endure the challenging climb. Many headhunters would’ve given up in his place. But not Bernard. He couldn’t afford to fail, knowing his family relied on him. When his shoulders burned painfully and his blood turned to acid in his veins, he carried on. When he had almost reached the cap of the mountain, he gripped the rock tightly and pulled himself to the top.
In front of him emerged the city of Windhaven in all its terrifying splendor. The mountain fortress was built for war, not for convenience. The fortified walls with tall parapets, merlons, and embrasures; the massive gate towers; and the guards situated every few meters reinforced that first impression. Sneaking in unnoticed was impossible—except with a divine dose of luck. Monsieur Gèroux didn’t have that. What he did have was a plan.
He walked confidently toward a sergeant, cutting in front of the line of people waiting to get in. The sergeant wore three chevrons on his uniform, while the simple corporals wore two. The guards reacted instantly by grabbing the hilts of their swords. This gesture didn’t affect the wolf, who stood calmly in front of the sergeant. The supervisor waved to his comrades to relax and approached him.
“Well met, Bernard,” he greeted him.
“Well met, Victor. How long has it been... three months?”
“That's it.”
There was no warmth in his voice. Bernard had known Victor for a long time. They’d been on good terms at one point, but now their relationship had cooled. In order to enter the city, he would have to appease the sergeant.
“You’re making extensive preparations, I see,” he said, pointing at the long line of caravans with supplies.
“Yes, we are. There’s a war going on, didn’t you hear?”
“I'm not much for politics,” said Monsieur Gèroux. “If people want to kill themselves, fine. I prefer to stay away.”
“You may not have a choice this time.”
Both fell silent. Bernard was deliberately beating around the bush, but he couldn’t think of anything else to talk about. What was more, Victor's mood seemed to be getting worse by the second.
“What do you want?” asked Victor. “You know what we do to Agapeans around here.”
“I'm not an ‘Agapean,’” said Bernard in a whisper. If anyone heard where he came from, he would be in trouble. “I'm a headhunter. I don’t have affiliations to countries or towns. Besides, I'm here for work.”
“You're lucky I know who you are,” the sergeant said. “Actually, you're lucky that only I know who you are.”
“Yes, yes,” said Monsieur Gèroux, waving, irritated, with his hand. “I need access to the city. Twenty-four hours.”
“Anything else?” the guard asked sarcastically. “Massage? Some wine?”
“After work, yes.” Bernard grinned.
“You need to go back to where you came from. What's more, I'm doing you a favor by not arresting you right here, right now.”
“You owe me more than that,” said the wolf.
He was betting everything on a favor Victor owed him. Three months ago, the bounty hunter had saved his daughter from some kidnappers without requesting any payment. Well, not without any compensation. He wasn’t a charity, after all. He’d received a small, symbolic repayment, but one much smaller than if it had been a normal case. The guard was obliged to help him.
“You’re asking for too much,” Victor said. “Security measures around and inside the city are tightened. There are guards everywhere. They don’t let just anyone walk in. I can’t let you in; it will raise too many questions. We’ll both end at the gallows.”
“I understand,” said Bernard. “The next time they kidnap your daughter, look for somebody else to save her.”
Victor's face hardened. Monsieur Gèroux had hit a nerve. And once he knew where the weak spot was, he would keep pressing it until he got what he wanted.
“My family and I are grateful to you,” the sergeant said stiffly. “We paid you what you wanted.”
“You paid me a symbolic price. I did you a great favor, and you know it. Your daughter wouldn’t be alive without me.”
“Be careful,” the guard said threateningly.
“I saved her life, Victor,” said Bernard. “Now please, please, just let me in your damned city. Then, if you want, set the guards after me, I don’t care. Just give me one day to catch my fugitives.”
“Even if I let you go, any fugitive in Windhaven is under the protection of the queen,” Victor said. “They will be judged by our laws if we find that they’ve committed a crime.”
“Nonsense! Your queen’s insane. She’ll just behead them, and that’ll be that. I’ll at least give them a fair trial.”
“Your outlaws are under the jurisdiction of Windhaven's courts. I strongly advise you to turn around and go back to where you came from,”
Victor said in a steely voice.
“I could’ve let your daughter die,” said Monsieur Gèroux. He was losing the argument and made a last, desperate attempt to convince the sergeant. “But I didn’t.”
Victor’s face flushed, his eyes flashing with anger. He clenched his hands into tight fists. Without another word, he knocked Bernard to the ground and tied his hands behind his back.
“In the name of the queen, I arrest you for illegally trying to sneak into the city of Windhaven!” Victor said loudly.
The headhunter had gone too far. His need to carry out the task and take care of his family had prompted him to recklessness. He grunted when the sergeant shoved him toward the gate. Walking past the other guards, Victor said, “I'll put this one in a holding cell.”
He pushed Bernard into a large square adjacent to the city gate. Monsieur Gèroux’s plan had failed. They were going to behead him in this goddamned city.
Victor turned left onto one of the side streets. Wherever the guard was taking him, it wasn’t the prison. When they reached a quiet part of the alley, the wolf said, “You won’t even bother taking me to jail, will you? You'll just cut my throat right here, save yourself the trouble—”
“Don’t make a sound,” Victor said, untying him. “You have six hours. If I find you on the premises of the city after this, I’ll arrest you. This is all I owe you.”
“Why...?”
“No matter how big of an ass you are, it's true that I owe you my daughter's life. Whomever you’re searching for is of no concern to me. Politics give me a headache. I just want my family to be safe.”
Monsieur Gèroux nodded. He nodded his gratitude for the mercy Victor had showed him.
“Give my greetings to the family when you see them,” Victor said before leaving.
The wolf wrapped the cloak he was wearing closer to his body and disappeared into the streets of Windhaven. He still felt an ominous Presence coming from the distant city of Agapea, albeit poorly. The image of the man flashed in his mind again, followed by pain and anger.
It was imperative that he find the fugitives before someone discovered where they’d come from. If that happened, they’d be killed on the spot, which would make the wolf’s job of capturing them alive much harder. He had several informants in town, but he couldn’t take the chance to look for them now. There were guards everywhere, and tensions were running high.
Bernard hurried across the streets, hoping to find a hint that would help him pinpoint his prey’s whereabouts. The wolf went down Smelly Feet Street and turned onto Moldy Cheese Alley, which led him to Spoiled Eggs Street. The scents made his stomach roil.
As the minutes turned into hours, he became more and more anxious. What if he couldn’t find the man? After all, this was a city full of people—it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. In fact, it was like looking for hay in a haystack. Humans all looked similar to him. His hope was that the fugitive was still traveling with the Rabbit. In a group, the two would be easily recognizable.
The sun was now setting, coloring the skies in blood orange. The wolf had already spent several hours in fruitless search. As he turned the next corner, he saw a group of elite guards approach with a purposeful gait. Were they coming for him? Had someone given him away? Monsieur Gèroux quickly hid behind the corner, holding his breath.
The heavy steps of the Royal Guard came closer. Bernard gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. If they attacked him, he could drop the first two opponents quickly and make a run for it before they recovered. The footsteps stopped, and someone shouted, “Queen Mira!”
Could the queen really be just a few steps away? If she found out Monsieur Gèroux was lurking nearby, the consequences would be fatal.
Bernard dared to look around the corner. On a faded wooden sign hanging from the wall were written the words The Simmering Cauldron. He wondered what the Queen of Windhaven was doing in such a hole. A moment later, his question was answered. The guards exited the tavern in a combat formation. They had taken three prisoners: the Sloth, the Rabbit, and the human. Together with the queen, they headed back to the palace.
Bernard cursed his luck. He was so close to catching them.
He leaned against the wall. What was he going to do now?
Attacking the queen and her guards would be suicide.
Sneaking into the castle and breaking the fugitives out of jail was just as insane.
Going back to Agapea with empty hands was also equal to a death sentence.
I’ve had worse days than this, thought Monsieur Gèroux. He followed the queen and her Royal Guard to the palace.
***
Once again, Cayden emerged from the abyss of darkness. He found himself lying on the floor of a cell with an iron door featuring a small window covered by grating, and above him was a gray ceiling. His hands were tied up with chains connected to a metal ring fixed on the wall. The sunlight coming through a window on the right wall suddenly stopped in the barrier the wall represented, deprived of the possibility of reaching the ground. Dust particles danced in this beam of light.
Confusion and a mix of emotions overwhelmed Cayden, bringing with them the memories of the past day.
The road to Windhaven. The tavern. Meeting Mira. And...
He remembered. Their first meeting. Their first kiss. Their first fight. Even if her fist hadn’t sent him unconscious, the pure shock of those memories coming back all at once would’ve done so. He’d recovered a part of himself.
“Mira...” Cayden said, as he touched his bruised eye. “She and I…”
“You were married,” Charles said from the neighboring cell.
A big piece of the puzzle finally fell into place.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cayden asked.
“I didn’t know if you could handle it,” said the Rabbit. “I was waiting for the right moment. Like now.”
Cayden sat up in his bed with his back leaning against the wall. His head was thumping painfully, making him as angry as a bear with a… headache.
“You dragged me to Windhaven—” he began.
“We saved you from a certain death in Agapea,” Charles said, interrupting him.
“—dragged me to Windhaven and lied to me about the reason why we're here.”
“I didn’t lie to you,” the Rabbit said. “We're here to stop the war.”
“Really? And how are we going to do that now that we're both imprisoned?!”
“Not with that negative attitude,” Charles said.
“And why is Mira angry at me?”
“I think it would be better if you calmed down before I told you,” the Rabbit said.
“Rabbit!” Cayden said, growling.
“All right, all right, I’ll tell you,” said Charles. “After you disappeared and the Red Evil came to power, we all believed that you’d deliberately abandoned us. Some even claimed that you’d worked together with the Evil. Mira took it the hardest. She was one of the few who didn’t believe the rumors. After the Red Evil banished her from Agapea, she broke. She started blaming you for everything that happened.”
“Oh, did she? For a moment there, while her fist was crashing into my face, I thought she’d forgiven me and wanted to have a friendly chat,” Cayden said. “You could’ve told me this before we came to Windhaven, you short-sighted garden rat!”
“Hey, there's no need for insults.”
Cayden tried to get up, but his headache became even worse. He sat back, clenching fists.
“If, by some miracle, we get out of these cells, I’m going to strangle you!” Cayden said. “That’s it! To hell with your stupid plan to stop the war! You and the Sloth are both insane!”
“We can’t give up!” Charles said. “We owe it to Jean. We should at least try.”
“Well, you tried! And now we’re in jail—again!”
In the last two days, Cayden’s anger had swelled to overflowing. His lack of control over his own life filled him with frustration. The last time he had felt
remotely in charge was when he’d woken up in the strange room without a roof.
He took out the picture he had in his pocket and looked at the woman on it again. Her red hair and blue eyes confirmed it was indeed Mira. And yet, there was something different about this version of her—her eyes were loving and warm. The person he’d met in The Simmering Cauldron was cold and violent. They looked the same but felt completely dissimilar.
He put the illustration away and closed his eyes. Mira's red curls danced before him. The small details of her image appeared in his mind—her blue eyes, the freckle on her left cheek, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth when she laughed. All those little imperfections that made her beautiful.
Once, Mira had taken him to a dirty tavern called The Happy Drinker. They played jazz there. Usually, Cayden didn’t go to such places—they were dark and smoky, and the patrons seemed suspicious. He’d plucked up the courage only because of her. Once he stepped into the tavern, the jazz wrapped around his body, lifting him from the ground. Cayden sank into the thick smoke as if floating in the clouds. Mira took him by the arm and soared together with him. He didn’t know if he had felt so good because of the music, the alcohol, or the lack of oxygen, but he had to admit it was one of the best nights of his life.
When the evening was over, they had both strolled along the moonlit streets, tired of the wild dancing, sweaty, breathless, happy. Cayden had never seen Agapea like this before—not as a king or a prince, but as an ordinary man walking around alleys and city squares. They sat down on a bridge over the Toska River and gazed at the rumbling water flowing underneath. There, he felt a sense of belonging. As Mira and he had watched the sunrise color the sky in red and orange, he had known he was meant to sit with her in that exact spot at that exact time.
He opened his eyes, and the memory disintegrated, its glimmering fragments fluttering in every direction. Reality settled in—the dark and gloomy cell, illuminated only by a dim beam of light.
***
At dusk, Jean and the badgers finally reached one of the hidden entrances to the Resistance’s hideout. Hidden in an alley behind some crates, a hole led underground.