A Fugitive's Kiss

by Jaime Clevenger

  The fishy smell of the seal fat was sickeningly familiar. She pushed away the memory of Bairndt’s chambers, the sight of his belly splayed open and all that had followed. She added ashes to the jar of fat, stirring until it turned a pale gray, and then smudged the mixture across her cheeks. Once her face was coated in a thick layer, she worked on her neck and then her hair. It wasn’t difficult to steal dirty laundry at night and she’d found a filthy shawl as well as a tunic several sizes too large. Her stomach was a tight knot when she thought of what she had to do next.

  Aysha pulled the shawl over her head and pushed open the back door. No soldiers greeted her. In the still dark, the street was empty and eerily quiet. Curfew was lifted an hour before dawn and then the town square would be filled. She had to work quickly.

  Ranik was in the alley opposite the prison yard. He’d found a wagon and filled it with hay, exactly as she’d asked. She’d warned him about the costume, but he still looked surprised when he spotted her.

  An owl hoot broke the silence, and Aysha looked up to see Jenner perched on a rooftop. From his vantage point, he’d have the best view of the prison yard and would give the signal when Telvin was led out later. She’d expected that Ranik would agree to help, but she hadn’t been certain about Jenner. When he volunteered to be their lookout and likely the first target Illyan would spot, she wondered how much Ranik had told him about Telvin. Did he realize he was risking his life for Ranik’s other lover?

  Torchlight outlined the gallows. She’d always avoided the town square and the prison yard in her nightly walks, sickened at the sight of the wooden beams with the empty noose. When she looked at it now, a chill of familiarity sent a shiver down her spine. A guard paced the prison yard, in full view of the gallows, but Aysha didn’t slow her steps. With the black shawl over her head, she’d be difficult to see until she stepped into the torchlight. Her pulse thumped in her ears. She recognized the guard. He was the same soldier who’d been Telvin’s night guard and at the same time Illyan’s spy.

  The sound of horseshoes striking the cobblestones made the guard glance up. Onyx galloped straight toward the prison yard and didn’t stop until she was nearly upon the guard. Darin leapt off Onyx. Before the guard could call for help, Darin’s sword glinted.

  Aysha ran to the gallows. She hadn’t told Darin to kill the guard. But she had known what would likely happen when she told Darin to distract him while she worked on the noose. She’d said “distract” when she’d explained the plan, because she couldn’t say the other words aloud. But it didn’t make her any less guilty. Darin knew full well what Aysha had asked her to do. She’d set loose a hunter.

  Aysha unsheathed the knife Darin had given her and then opened the jar of candle wax. Her hands shook as she lit the wax. She set to work on the rope, carefully cutting and then weaving the strands back together again with the wax. She couldn’t cut all of it—the rope had to appear intact. He’d hang for a few seconds, strangled by the noose, and then the rope would snap before his neck did. If the plan worked, that is…

  Jenner’s owl hoot came and she hurried to finish. She heard a clatter of horseshoes and glanced over her shoulder. The guard was on his back and Darin was gone.

  Aysha was nearly to the alley when she heard someone’s voice. She glanced over her shoulder. It was another soldier. She hadn’t expected a second guard. Her heart raced and she fought back the desire to run.

  “Stop!”

  She forced her feet to continue shuffling, keeping the slow pace of an old witch. Panicked, she rehearsed the plan. Ranik was close.

  “I said ‘stop,’” he yelled again.

  Footsteps pounded behind her, and she spun to face the soldier just as he reached for her arm. Before his hand could close on her wrist, he recoiled with a shriek.

  “Witch!”

  Both of her arms were wrapped with bramble thorns as thick as shackles. The soldier looked aghast at the gouge in his palm, where blood was welling. When he recovered enough to come toward her again, she had a flask of dendron oil ready. She splashed it in his face.

  Screaming, he rubbed at his eyes to stop the burning. He spun in a circle, desperately trying to wipe off the oil, but he only managed to spread it on his cheeks. Welts formed instantly. “I can’t see! What’d you do to me, witch?”

  Dendron oil would only blind him for a few hours. That was all she needed. She ran to the alley where Ranik was waiting and jumped into the wagon. As she burrowed into the straw, she felt the wagon lurch forward. She tore the brambles off along with the tunic, her heart still racing. The first part of the plan had worked seamlessly. Almost exactly as she’d foreseen. But a sick feeling settled in her stomach when she remembered the night guard on his back. Darin had killed a man on her bidding.

  By dawn, the weather had changed. Gone was the clear night. Dark clouds had gathered and lightning threatened. As usual, the town square had filled with wagons and tents before sunrise. But unlike most mornings charged with the noisy banter of the vendors and shoppers, the crowded market was noticeably quiet and an uneasiness permeated the air. Whispered rumors spread of both the expected hanging and the witch who’d attacked two prison guards. No one knew details of who was to be hung nor why. More was being said about the witch than anyone else.

  Aysha had scrubbed her hair and face, but she still smelled of fish. She wondered if Darin would complain of her stench. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she wished she had Darin at her side. With the change in weather, she’d made Darin promise to stay out of the town square unless Jenner gave the signal that she was needed. Now it was too late to find her.

  Jenner was still on the rooftop and Ranik was with the wagon in the same alley as before. Raleigh was the new addition. Looking as if he hadn’t slept in days—his mop of brown hair tousled and dark circles ringing his eyes—he had set up his post near the gallows. Raleigh always had a dangerous air about him, but now Aysha wondered if they’d made a mistake in asking for his help. He seemed ready to stab anyone who came close to the pillar he leaned against.

  An owl hoot came, and Aysha glanced at the prison yard. Soldiers had gathered, but she couldn’t see Telvin. By the murmurs that went through the crowd, though, she knew others had seen the prisoner being lead out. She glanced up at Jenner, his eyes focused on the prison yard and then over at Ranik. He nodded. All was set. She only had to play her part. She’d expected to be a mess of nerves, but she felt strangely calm as she walked through the maze of vendors.

  Illyan was addressing the soldiers, but Aysha couldn’t hear what he said. She edged closer to the gallows and then saw Telvin, standing with his hands bound behind his back and the burlap sack over his head. When Illyan finished speaking, the burlap sack was pulled off and an audible gasp went through the crowd.

  Several soldiers spoke up at once and one stepped forward, arguing loudly that Telvin was no murderer. More soldiers agreed, clamoring for Telvin to be untied. A moment later, the soldier who had stepped forward was silenced with a sword tip at his throat. Before others could come to his defense, Telvin was led to the gallows.

  As the charges of murder were read, shouts of dissent resounded. Ignoring the crowd, Illyan called for the noose to be set. A stool was set in front of Telvin and he climbed up without fighting. He glanced at his soldiers and then at Illyan. Was he calm because he’d accepted his fate or did he know?

  As the hangman placed the noose, Aysha stepped out into the clearing between the crowd and the gallows. It was custom to give those sentenced to death a moment to say their goodbyes. She felt the eyes of the crowd on her. But she turned to look at Illyan. His arrow was set on her.

  She kept her eyes on his as she started to sing. The words were from the old Widow Baylor in Maylek and the song was one she’d heard in her dreams during the worst of the flooding. A flash of lightning lit the sky behind the prison yard and then a round of thunder followed. Aysha only sang louder.

  “That’s Lady Spur!” Cyrus’s voice was unmis
takable. “Stop her—she’s a witch!”

  “Lady Spur?” The crowd behind her echoed as one voice after another asked if it was true. Was she Lady Spur?

  Aysha continued to sing as more lightning followed. The crowd had backed away from her, but the soldiers held their places, some shifting on their feet and others already with swords in hand.

  “That’s enough,” Illyan shouted. “Let him hang.”

  Before the hangman could pull the stool, Raleigh lunged forward, slamming his weight into one of the soldiers by the gallows and knocking him toward the hangman. Dozens of soldiers broke from their lines then and charged forward.

  As the men streamed past her, swords clashing, Aysha sang louder. Who was on Illyan’s side and who was on Telvin’s was impossible to tell. She couldn’t hold back her tears and the image in front of her blurred.

  Suddenly Telvin’s body was dangling. Aysha hadn’t seen who had kicked the stool out from under him, but the taut rope stopped her song. She couldn’t breathe. Willing the rope to snap, she counted the seconds until Telvin crumpled to the ground. Shouts of “Witch!” battled with excited hails of “Lady Spur.”

  The soldiers stepped away from each other and all eyes fixed on Telvin’s body. A rumble went through the crowd when he pushed up onto his hands and knees. The snapped rope dangled loose on his neck.

  Aysha turned to face the crowd. “As is my birthright, I have chosen the new king.”

  “Lady Spur!” A round of voices drowned out her words.

  Aysha waited until the crowd quieted again and said, “This man who was set to be hanged is no more a murderer than I am. He wears the bronze medallion that all rightful kings of Heffen have worn. That fate has spared him today only proves that he is to serve as our king.”

  “Witch! She’s the one who should be hung,” Cyrus yelled.

  Aysha scanned the crowd until she found Cyrus. She was opening her mouth to address him when she was suddenly charged by Raleigh. It wasn’t until she hit the ground that she saw the arrow in his chest. He fell on top of her, clutching the arrow. When she went to help him, Raleigh pushed her hands away.

  “Let me help. I’ve got to get the arrow out of you.”

  “No, stay down. It’s only a little arrow.” But his breathing was already ragged. “Stay down or there’ll be more.”

  What happened next was something she’d remember later only in bits and pieces. The wagon, straw blazing, came hurtling into the center of the town square. Lit torches sailed through the air, pelting the tents above the vendor tables. The crowd scattered, screaming. Swords clashed as the soldiers resumed their fighting. Smoke choked at her lungs. It was the smoke they needed. Darin had said that Illyan couldn’t aim with the smoke.

  The soldiers who supported Telvin had circled the gallows. Several of Illyan’s men were already face down on the ground and it was clear now that only a handful remained on the seer’s side compared to the dozens who stood by Telvin.

  Aysha watched numbly as Ranik appeared behind the soldiers. He made his way through the middle of the fighting until he was crouched at Telvin’s side. He tugged the noose off Telvin’s neck, then slipped his arm around him and pulled him to his feet. Telv was clearly weak, bearing down on Ranik as he stumbled away from the gallows. Ranik helped him onto Cobalt and then a moment later, slipped away. Telvin didn’t look for him. It was hard to say if he even knew who had helped him off the ground.

  Telvin turned the horse to face the crowd and raised his arm. The cheer was deafening.

  “King Telvin!”

  No arrows whistled through the air. Aysha couldn’t see the place where Illyan had been and she couldn’t relax until she knew…

  “Get up!” Darin ordered, heaving Raleigh’s limp body off Aysha’s legs.

  Aysha’s heart swelled at the sound of Darin’s voice. She’d never wanted her close as much as she did now. But if Illyan saw her…“You shouldn’t be here—he’ll kill you.”

  “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “But Illyan—”

  “He’s dead,” Darin said.

  Aysha didn’t ask Darin if she’d been the one to kill him. It didn’t matter. She glanced over at Raleigh, his body heaving. “I’ve got to help Raleigh. He saved my life. Illyan tried to shoot me and Raleigh—”

  “It’s too late for him,” Darin said, pulling Aysha away from him. “And we’ve got to get you out of here. You have more enemies now.”

  “I’ve got to try…” Aysha pushed Darin’s hands off and went to kneel at Raleigh’s side. His eyes had a glazed look that Aysha knew too well. He was close to death. There was nothing she could do.

  Darin touched her shoulder. “He knew he’d die today. It was forecasted.”

  Aysha couldn’t stop the tears. “We should get him out of here at least.”

  “We can’t risk it. Not everyone wants a witch in this town—even a Lady Spur. It isn’t safe for you.”

  When Darin reached for her again, Aysha didn’t resist. She let Darin help her into the saddle. Soldiers lay dying at their feet and flames blazed in every direction. She wrapped her arms around Darin’s waist as Onyx set off at a gallop.

  “It’s done then,” Aysha said, closing her eyes.

  “It’s only just begun.”

  Epilogue

  From the first view, the islands looked uninhabitable and unlike anything Aysha had imagined. Stark red cliffs plunged hundreds of feet to the rough sea below and no vegetation dared to grow on the rock. There was no beach to land the boat or even a pier. Dotting the feet of the cliffs were boulders that the cresting waves would swallow in one moment and then expose in the next.

  Aysha had battled nausea the entire trip. Keeping to the front of the boat helped her stomach, but now her fear of crashing into the rocks overwhelmed her desire not to be sick. Clutching the rail, she went to where Darin stood in the middle of the boat. “Can you tell me when we’ve landed?”

  “We’ve got to get between those two cliffs up ahead and then we’ll be inside the ring. They won’t pull ashore until we’ve passed that mark.”

  From the map that Ranik had peered over, Aysha remembered that the five islands formed a ring. The largest of the islands was the closest to Caratia. Aysha couldn’t recall the name, but she recalled the story the captain had told of ships wrecking on the submerged rocks near its shore.

  Darin clasped her hand and pointed away from the cliffs toward the sun. “You’ll want to watch the sunset instead of the rocks.”

  “I’d rather go below deck.”

  “We can jump out faster when the boat wrecks if you stay up here.”

  “If the boat wrecks,” Ranik said, overhearing Darin. “Not when.”

  Dipping low in the horizon, the sun turned the cliffs a brighter red, but heeding Darin’s warning, Aysha watched the sunset instead of the rocks. When the sun dropped below the line of the ocean, they’d made it around the tip of the isle. The inner ring spread out before them, five islands forming a welcoming halo of lush greens around the crystal blue bay.

  Darin pointed to the water as a whale’s tail splashed. Another whale surfaced close to the boat and sent a swell. As the boat rocked, Darin slipped her arm around Aysha’s hip and pulled her close. “Whales are good luck.”

  Darin’s wound had healed faster than Aysha had expected, and now that her strength was returned as well, she joked it was witchcraft at work. As Darin stood now, face to the wind, Aysha’s breath caught in her chest. She’d come too close to losing her. Darin wrapped her arms tighter, and Aysha’s heart sprang up in her chest. She shifted closer to her warmth.

  Their boat angled to the southernmost island and slowly the blurs of color came into detail. A pier was built at one side of the mouth of a river and boats lined it. The river had carved a depression between two hills. Rows of houses were built into either hillside, as though the town had early on decided to leave the river plenty of room to rise on its banks with the swell of the tides.

 
; Aysha gripped the rail, feeling a knot of doubt forming in her stomach. “What if we weren’t supposed to leave?” Caratia seemed a distant memory, but they’d left Telvin to face the next step alone. King Telvin. She glanced up at Darin, her face gold in the soft light, and then looked back at her brother. Ranik’s hand was gripped in Jenner’s.

  “Telvin will be fine,” Darin said softly, guessing Aysha’s thoughts. “He knew you’d leave. And that you’d come back when he needed you again.”

  “How am I to know when?”

  “I think Jenner will be the one to guide you,” Darin said. “Sometimes forecasters know more than they say. I wonder how his heart ached, knowing the choice Ranik had to make.”

  Aysha wondered if she meant Telvin’s heart or Jenner’s. But she knew Ranik didn’t have much of a choice to make. He’d always loved Jenner—from the moment he’d met the man.

  Soon the captain was shouting orders and the crew cast ropes to waiting hands on the pier. Strangers had lined up to greet them, smiling at the new arrivals and waving to the familiar crew. Most were tall Northerners reddened by the sun, but there were a handful of tan Southerners as well. No soldiers, no castles in sight.

  She looked up at Darin’s handsome face, shining in the setting sun. She’d gotten used to her in the men’s trousers and shirt and couldn’t imagine her in a tunic now. But it wasn’t only that she’d gotten used to it—she liked it. She loved the strength in Darin’s body, the way she stood with her feet apart and her chin lifted up to face the unknown without any fear. She’d brought along the sword, but it was stowed in their trunk. Her knife was still strapped to her calf. And that was all part of Darin. Aysha was safe with her. She wondered how she’d doubted it before.