“Don’t know for certain. Perhaps half an hour since I first woke.” Feels as if it was longer, trying to find him and then wait for him to revive. Much, much longer.
He grunts.
While he’s not paying me any mind, I hurry to grab my wet things and put them back in my pack.
He sits up and looks at the soggy food. As he wraps it up, he says, “It’s unfortunate this is all we have to eat. Should have been smarter and kept a pack close like you, though the food would still be wet. Might be able to find us some rabbits or squirrels.”
“You can catch those?”
“And skin them and cook them. You have to be able to live off what you can find when you’re in hiding so much,” he says. “But we need to take care of the spell first. We’re still in danger as long as you are attached to your ribbon. If they get close enough, they’ll be able to find us, even if our tracks are hidden.
Once again, I curse myself for not taking more time to pack. “Is there anything that can be done about it?”
“I just don't know.”
There's has to be something. Why do I have to be so attached to it? Wait— Why do I? “What if I was no longer attached to it? What if I broke the ownership it had over me? My attachment to the memories?”
Hope sparks in his eyes. “That could do it, if you can manage it.”
I think of the navy ribbon, worn thin from years of worrying. “It feels impossible.”
“It very well may be without time, but we don’t have time. We’ll have to try,” he says. “Where did you get it?”
My mind instantly races back to all those years ago when I was a small girl. “I was very young, only three years old, just starting class. I hated class so much the memories are still too vivid. The other girls were rude, and the warlocks that came in were demanding. At home, things were more relaxed. Father was usually at the shop with mother while Tilda tended me. I cried to her often that first week.
“One day after coming home from class in tears again, Tilda gave it to me. I don’t even know how she acquired it. Very likely she stole it from Father’s shop, though I don’t know why she would chance such a thing. When she gave it to me, she said I could keep it with me to use any time I needed help thinking of her, to think of mother and how nice our time together was. Even when the girls were rude and the boys were mean, I could use the memories to escape.”
“It was brave of her to give it to you.” I don’t know when it happened, but sometime during my story he scooted closer and gently taken my bad wrist. While he looks it over he says, “What happened after that?”
“Not much changed. The boys were still rude, but it did help to have something. It’s the only thing I have to remember her by except those memories. I grew out of all the dresses she helped make. The ribbon was the one thing I kept hidden from Father. I don’t know how I left it behind.”
His fingers brush against mine, the loneliness and longing in me ebbing. “You've remembered her all this time, even without it.”
“I suppose.”
He says nothing further as if waiting for me. And there really is nothing further to say. Tilda will always be in my thoughts. As much as I treasured the ribbon she gifted me, it’s not her.
“I don’t truly need it anymore. Her memories are with me regardless of the ribbon being left behind.”
“T think you've discovered how to break the hold if you can internalize it enough.”
“Is that enough?” I ask, hoping it is.
“We can’t be sure unless a spell comes for you. I think at the very least the hold will be weaker.” He groans as he stands. “We’d best be on our way. How does your wrist feel?”
“It’s a little better.” I put my pack on. “Where to from here?”
“We need to get away from the river. They’ll probably have an idea where we are from the pieces of boat, but there’s too many for us to pick up. Our best chance is to get as far from here as possible. Walk that way—” he points straight away from the river, “—and I’ll find you.”
I glance at the forest, dark and rocky, and a chill shudders through me. “Aren’t you coming?”
“After I erase signs of our being here I’ll follow.”
The bank is littered with spots where I walked, matted the grass down. I left quite a trail. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It won’t take long. I’ll try to make it look as if we chose the other side of the bank since most of your footprints are already there.”
“Would you like some assistance?”
“Just start walking. I’ll find you.”
Swallowing my fears, I give him one last look as he fluffs the flattened patch of grass. As I turn away, I can’t help but keep the image of him in my mind. The forest isn’t as dark as it looked from the outside. The sun shines through breaks in the trees, lighting my way better than I supposed it would. I’m more conscious of my steps now. I don’t want to make work for him, yet I also don’t want him to entirely lose track of me. I keep my steps careful and trust that he’ll find me as he said he would.
I’ve been walking perhaps an hour when his voice says, “I’m right behind you.”
I jump and let out a squeak. Thankfully it wasn’t loud, but that doesn’t stop embarrassment from shaking through me.
“Sorry, I was trying not to startle you.”
“I’m not usually so jumpy.”
“Nothing about this is usual.”
I think of everything he’s done for me, how he treats me and the other tarnished. “No, this is most definitely not usual.”
He leans closer, and I find myself swaying toward him. His hazel eyes framed with tattoos pulling me in. The burst of sunlight radiating through my body makes me want to sway all the way to him. To be close enough to feel his arms around me. A shiver trills through me, pulling both of us apart, breaking whatever the feeling was.
Horrid timing. I want to know what that sunny feeling was. I want to feel more of whatever it was. But it really is cold. The sun is down, and the forest is getting as dark as I expected it to be when I first entered.
“It’s probably time to find someplace safe for the night. We both need to get dry and warm.”
“How are we going to do that out here?” I ask, hoping he’ll reveal one of the hidden hideouts he said they have.
He grins, sparking that strange but pleasant fluttering in me again. “It’s time for you to learn how to survive in the wilderness, Kat.”
Chapter Eleven
He was serious about teaching me how to survive. Once he’s found us a place to camp for the night, he sets me to work finding sticks. After I’ve gathered enough to satisfy him, though not nearly as much as he’s gathered, he sends me to pick strawberries from a patch he discovered. This time when I return, he has a rabbit and two squirrels, which he shows me how to skin and prepare for cooking.
I’ve cooked many times, but it’s different to skin them. “Oh posh. I can’t. Its little face is making me feel guilty.” And like throwing up. I’ve handled raw meat many times, but this…
He gently takes the knife from my hands, his words soft yet firm. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Tomorrow will come too soon. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Almost my whole life. Mary wanted us to help others, but doing that meant we had to find a way to avoid getting in trouble with the law officers or councilmen. It’s harder getting food for a group of people than two tarnished on their own.”
He finishes readying the last squirrel, hanging it over the fire, and I finally feel like I can look at him again. “That was very selfless of Mary and you for assisting her.”
“Mother wouldn’t have it any other way. Ever since we were tarnished, she’s wanted to help those who met our fate.”
Wait, did he just say— “She’s your mother? I thought boys who were tarnished as children were taken away from their families.”
“We are, but mother was… well, you’ve met her. She knows
how to get what she wants.”
Except for having him come with her when they escaped from the warlocks pursuing me. “So they let her keep you?”
“No. After my blood tested with no magic, I was tarnished. I don’t remember much except screaming. Mother screaming they couldn’t do this. Me screaming not to leave her. As she tells it now, she was led away at the same time, just to a different depraver than I was. Apparently my lack of magic was enough for Father to get rid of her as well.”
The same would have probably happened to my mother if Jack had been born that way. Father would have found a wife more capable of passing on magic and I would be an only child or have step siblings. As difficult as it’s been since my testing, I can’t imagine how much more difficult it was for him and Mary.
“Once she was tarnished, no one wanted her. Said she was too feisty to take into service so she was left to make her own way. In the tarnished part of town they liked her, and she joined other tarnished not under a warlock. It worked well. She was able to barter for information and eventually found me in a tarnished boy’s home. It didn’t take long to rescue me from that place. Only tarnished work there, and they were delighted to be able to reunite us.
“Once we were together again, she formed a plan to help other tarnished find their children. It’s evolved a great deal since then, but for the better I think.”
“She did all that? Came up with the idea that tarnished could gather and collaborate without getting caught?”
“She did, but some have been caught.” The firelight dances across his features, highlighting his grief.
The fire crackles and pops, filling the air with its smokey scent. I take a hold of his hand. “Does it happen often?”
“Thankfully not.”
“What happens when you are caught? You’re already tarnished which is what they use to threaten women when just a beating or hexing isn’t enough. What more can they do?”
“Torture us. Kill us. Tarnished women are taken more than the men.” His face is hard. Fierce. “Those who we haven’t been able to help, or don’t think we help enough, get captured on purpose to find such an end. Of course they hope to be killed, not tortured. Some can’t find a way to support themselves, no owner to take them in, no skills to earn their food and clothing. It’s hard, but I think this life is worth fighting for, worth making better, even if it’s not as fine as the Grand Chancellor's.”
I shiver at the thought, but no matter that it sounds scary, it sounds as if it something worth thinking on. “I believe I’d like to help as well.”
“We’d like that,” he says. “But let’s get you safe first.”
After we eat, he prepares to take the first watch while I settle down next to the fire. In a few hours, he’ll wake me, and we’ll switch. As I drift into sleep, my thoughts are heavy with him and his mother, with what they’re accomplishing.
***
The next morning, we hurry to take camp down and make it appear as if we were never here. Charles sees much more than I do. Long after I think all signs of us are gone, he’s brushing away footsteps and burying the remains of our fire. Once he’s satisfied with it, we start walking again.
There’s no telling which direction the river is anymore. Yet as turned about as I am, Charles knows exactly where we are, which is no surprise with everything he does. It would just be nice to know as well. I meant what I said last night about helping the tarnished. If I can find a way to help, there will be many new things to learn.
It takes several days of walking. The entire time, Charles continues to teach me about how to survive with nothing but nature. It’s good to know, though I think I prefer not having to. I prefer it over living in a cave, but I’m still hoping to find something that makes a good alternative. For now I’m just happy not to be under the rule of an owner.
Charles makes the journey easy to enjoy. He’s there without pressing. He’s unlike any other male I’ve ever known. Much of the time we walk in silence, things peaceful and happy. Other times, he’s quietly pointing things out, telling me more about his life or listening to me talk. I can’t help but feel sad on the morning he says we’re almost to our destination.
We walk for several hours when the forest grows thinner, and he says, “There’s a town here so we don’t want to get too close. The meeting spot isn’t much further.”
“Can we be sure that they can’t track me through the ribbon? I don’t want to repeat the experience of running everyone out of their place of hiding.”
“They haven’t caught up to us yet.”
“But they could be too far away still for their magic to work, correct? Perhaps as soon as they grow close enough they’ll be able to. Perhaps it will happen after we reach wherever your friends have gone now.”
“If it makes you feel better, we’ll use the meet up spot to let them know we’re fine, but we’ll wait several days before joining them at their current hideout.”
“That would help me feel better about the situation.”
“We’ll wait it out then.” He takes a hold of my hand, like mine belongs in his. “Let’s see who’s waiting for us and let them know.”
As we walk I ask, “Why don’t you call Mary mother?”
“We don’t let many people know our relationship. If we’re caught, they may keep us together, but if they knew she’s my mother, they’d separate us or worse, use us against each other to tell secrets about our hideouts.”
It’s sad they can’t be more honest about their relationship with their friends, though I like the fact he trusts me with their secret.
A few more minutes, and Helen comes into view. Inwardly, I cringe. Out of everyone who could meet us, why is it her? She hated me before; she must completely despise me now.
“You’re both alive. Didn’t expect that. Mary said you would come here if you were.” Her tone is more neutral than I expected. Does that mean the hatred is boiling beneath the surface, or that she’s softening toward me?
“How is everyone?” Charles asks.
“Did they make it out alive?” I add.
“They did make it eventually. All are safe.”
I grab hold of the closest tree and let it support me. Bad enough I was the cause of them leaving in the first place. If someone had been caught, injured, or killed because of me, I don’t know how I would fix it. Helen eyes me, her face still expressionless, but I no longer care. Everyone is safe.
“The hideout?” Charles asks.
“They haven’t found it yet. A few warlocks are still roaming around it, but we’re hopeful. We may be able to use it in the future.”
Though not as important as their lives, it’s their home. I’m grateful I haven't caused that to be lost to them as well.
“Good,” Charles says. “We are going to wait before joining you so we can be certain we don’t endanger everyone again.”
“You mean to make sure she doesn’t endanger anyone.”
I push away from the tree. “It is my fault. I’m sorry. If I had any idea that was possible—”
“It’s drilled into you that your Master always knows where you are and what you are doing.” Her voice is like needles stabbing me over and over again. “Did you think that was a farce? That they don’t really care if their things wander off?”
Despite my guilt and stupidity, despite the poor job I’ve done running away, that’s one thing I will no longer be called. I’ve always supposed it to be true. Now I know it to be true. “I may have made a mistake but I. Am not. A thing.”
Her expression returns to neutral. There’s no hint as to her thoughts on my declaration. But I feel the difference. My chest is bursting with something right and good. Something I should have discovered years ago.
“I am not a thing,” I continue, “No other woman is a thing, and tarnished are not things. We are people, and we will be treated as such.”
Her eyes narrow, like she’s trying to determine my true intention. If she really knew me, it wouldn't be hard to
know my words are my true intention. It goes against everything I learned in class, everything Father and Jack tried to shove into me. Everything society has engrained in me. But it is everything, everything, that my mother taught. Only she didn’t know how to do anything with that realization. I finally do.
I realize Charles is starting at me, admiration shining through his eyes.
“I suppose I got a little carried away,” I say.
“No, that was perfect,” he replies.
The warmth in my chest is back, strong and good and right.
“Mary won’t be happy you aren’t coming back right away,” Helen interrupts.
I glare at her. It may be rude, but I wasn’t done with that bright feeling.
“I didn’t think she would be.” Charles sighs. “We need to find a place to stay.”
“If you’re intent on sticking with this girl, I know a spot you can be safe for some time. It’s got several different ways to escape should they find you.”
More escaping. Lovely. I hope the routes are a more reliable than the rowboat.
“That would be great. Thank you, Helen.” Charles discusses details with her before we part ways. There’s no mention of a boat or water, so I hope that means an easier escape. We give hurried good-byes, and she watches us depart.
“The place we can stay isn’t far. It's just in town,” Charles says.
“In town? I thought we were avoiding town.”
“She said there’s no one searching for you here. We probably won’t pass many people if we take the back roads. Plus, it’s an actual house with food, clothes, and real beds.”
I barely remember what that's like any more. “That would be a welcome change.”
“There will be something to help your wrist. Some bandages at least, maybe even some medicine.”
“That would be even better.”
We walk for another twenty minutes or so when town comes into view.
“Just pretend we belong,” Charles says.
“In dirty clothes?” My hair probably looks a mess as well, and I have no face paint to speak of.
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