“Play nice,” he uttered, smirking at the pale cast to her face.
Stilling her movements, she allowed them to lead her from the wagon. Her feet landed in deep snow and a cold, fresh breeze hit her face. The scent of wood smoke tainted the air, and several tall branches arced above her head.
“Where?” She turned her head to face Darius, and worried at the bemused look on his face.
“Welcome to the Free People of the Forest.” She stared up as the leader from the train walked into view. His arms were outstretched, indicating the space about him. Tay raised her head, taking in the scene around her with awe. The forest spread in every direction, and despite the path at their feet, there was no edge in sight. A snowflake drifted past the skeletal branches to melt against her cheek, as it began to snow again. She shivered as a cold breeze cut through the fabric of her dress. “We have been eager for your arrival.”
“We had little choice in the matter.” Darius spoke calmly, but Tay could hear the undercurrent of fear in his voice. “But thank you for your welcome.” He took a step forward as their guard from the wagon waved his gun at him. “I take it we don’t get the welcome tour.”
“Would my people get a tour of your home?” the leader asked. “Or more accurately, would you give a tour to those you sentence to slavery?” Tay felt sick, fear running through every vein.
“Why are we here?” In a shaking, fear-laden voice, Tay spoke up. “What do you want with us?”
“Not you,” the leader answered with a snort, “but him…” He nodded at Talon’s unconscious body. “He’s worth a ransom. You on the other hand”－he raised his hand, and several hands caught hold of them－“are to be tried for your crimes.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The silence that fell over the group was profound, and full of incipient dread. Shivering with each falling flake, Tay stared with the rest, wondering what was to come.
His eyes snapped open, and fixed on Tay and Darius. “Kill them.” At those words, the guards began to pull them backward, away from Talon, and toward the dark, chilling emptiness of the forest.
“Wait.” Tay tried to free herself from the arms holding her, but the grip was too strong. Her feet dug into the snow of the forest floor, yet she continued to be pulled backward. Fingers reached out to seize hold of something, anything that would stop them. The men continued to move, dragging them mercilessly across the snowy forest floor. “We’re rebels too.”
The leader held up a hand, and the guards stopped moving.
“I find that hard to believe,” the leader said, staring at her in distaste. “You wear all the trappings of the nobles.”
“It’s a disguise,” Tay sobbed, adrenalin rushing through her. “My name’s Taya Emerson, and I live in the Mine District.”
“Emerson.” The leader stopped and turned to face her. “Where precisely do you live?”
“Twelve Jarrow Street, Westford,” Tay gasped out. “My father’s in the Mine… I…” She stammered to a halt, and glanced over at Darius. A strangely calm expression had settled across his features. “And Darius is part of the resistance too.”
The leader shot him a brief look, before holding up his hand for silence. “Very well,” he noted. “We’ll keep you alive while we check out your tale.” He nodded once more and the guards’ hands fell away. “But if you’re lying…” He left the sentence hanging, as he stepped back to the front of the troupe.
The group of guards moved into formation around them as the leader led them through the bare trees. Tiny flakes of snow swirled about them as the group moved onward. Dressed for the warmth of a train, Tay soon began to shiver as the wind picked up, driving the snow into faster flurries. She wrapped her arms across her chest, trying to bring warmth back to her chilled hands.
“Here.” A heavy jacket settled about her shoulders, and she shot Darius a grateful glance.
“Do you know these people?”
“No,” Darius replied, after a moment’s thought, “but, I have heard of them.”
“Can they be trusted?” Their voices were mere whispers, yet Tay was certain that one of the guards glanced at them.
“I don’t know.” He stepped to her side, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “But we seem safe enough, for now.” Tay leaned into his side, reassured by the warmth of his body.
“And Talon?”
“The Prince is our insurance.” Tay stiffened as the guard beside them spoke. “He’s fine for now.”
They moved through the deepening gloom, the snow driving into their faces, chilling exposed skin. The forest was quiet, save for the rhythmic steps of their party. Befuddled by the cold and exhausted by the heavy pace, Tay stumbled over an exposed root, and fell into the snow with a yelp of surprise.
“Get up.” The nearest guard poked the tip of his weapon into her shoulder. Tay flinched as the weapon dug into her flesh.
“Give me a minute,” she snarled, as Darius reached forward.
“Hey.” The guard motioned at Darius with the weapon, waving him away.
“What do you think I’m going to do?” Darius snapped, ignoring the threat. “I’m only helping her up.”
“It’s alright.” Tay struggled to get to her feet, the long skirts making the simple movements difficult.
“For heaven’s sake, Carlton,” one of the older guards called. “Let him help her.” Darius shot a withering glance at Carlton, before he reached out his hand again. There was a brief moment of tension as Tay reached out to take Darius’ hand. Carlton’s grip on the gun wavered, the weapon shaking slightly as he watched the two.
Ignoring the guard, Tay took hold of Darius’ arm, and pulled herself upright. She got to her feet. The small group of escorts stared at them in silence, before setting off once again. Carlton stayed still, a flush of embarrassed anger infusing his cheeks.
They continued walking through the densely-packed woodland, the snow falling ever faster, blurring the path ahead. Darius’ footsteps faltered, his injured body succumbing to the cold.
“How much further?” Tay steadied his movements, concern sharpening her tone. Darius clung to her arm as she pulled him onward. Their guards did not answer as they continued to push ahead into the cold of a snowy night.
Tay’s legs felt like cold planks of wood as they finally staggered into a small clearing. Through a haze of exhaustion, she made out several cabins, welcoming light shining from the windows. Beside her, Darius toppled to the floor, his legs finally giving way. She reached down for him, but the ground rushed up to meet her, as she too collapsed into an exhausted faint.
Chapter 29
Warmth cocooned her limbs, and the scent of cooking wafted across her nostrils. Waking in a warm bed, Tay pushed the covers from her body, and slowly looked about her. She was in a loft, the bed resting beneath the eaves sported blankets with cheerful and many-coloured designs. A hurricane lamp swung from the pitched ceiling, the light pleasant against the gloom.
Gingerly she got to her feet, and a heavy, cotton nightgown fell to brush her ankles. Swallowing back the sensation of fear, she stepped forward, looking around her prison with curiosity. A cabinet with one drawer stood against one wall, its wooden frame carved with beautiful, and strangely familiar, designs. On its satiny surface, there was a jug of water and a bowl. At the end of the bed and behind the door, there was a similarly carved wardrobe.
A sense of déjà vu slid once more through her thoughts, and she reached out with a curious hand to trace the designs carefully. Each smoothly-carved line felt oddly recognisable to her fingers, and she stopped. A nervous, foreboding sensation raced through her as she carefully opened the cupboard, and stared at the clothes within. Reaching out, she slid her fingers across the garb, noting several different sets of uniforms, from guard uniforms to those of palace functionaries. Curious, she singled out the uniform of an upper housemaid, noting the similarity to those worn in the Palace. Closing the wardrobe, she stepped closer to the door, her sense of apprehension growing with each step. At the base of the bed
, there was a chair. A pair of slippers and a folded robe laid waiting for her. Pulling on the robe and slippers, she moved to the door. To her surprise, it opened easily.
Another door faced her across the landing, and a set of steep stairs led downstairs. Hesitantly, she walked forward and tried the door in front of her. It was locked, the wooden portal fixed in place. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the stairs. From the floor below, she could hear the familiar, homey sounds of a kitchen at work. For a long moment, she stood in place, scared to take a step forward. A female voice cursed from somewhere below, and Tay froze, recognising the tones. Startled into movement, she dashed forward, heading for the ground floor at a rush.
The stairs led down to a single, large room. A seating area laid to the right side of the stairs, a door stood before her, and to the left… Tay took a step back, the sight sending waves of shock through her. The kitchen laid to the left. Several pans bubbled on the large stove against the far wall, but it was the cook that startled her the most. Time seemed to freeze as she stared at the familiar, but impossible face before her.
“Mum?” Her voice was a disbelieving squeak as she tried to reconcile her memories with the face of the woman before her.
“Taya.” Tarin Emerson walked toward her, arms outstretched in welcome. “I’ve missed you so much.” Tay stiffened as her mother’s arms reached around her back, and then she pulled away, retreating as she tried to think.
“I thought you were dead.” Flat, hurt tones echoed through the kitchen as she shook her mother’s hand from her arm. “How are you alive?” Numb from shock, she breathed the question, her voice almost strangled by her emotions. Tarin stared down at her, the same shock visible on her face.
“Why did you think that?” she asked, raising her hand back to Tay’s arm. “Didn’t your father tell you?”
“He told us that you’d died for the cause.” The numbness was beginning to fade, and raw anger burned in its place. “That the cause”－contempt rippled around the word ‘cause’－“was more important than your, or our, life.” Tay felt tears of anger begin to prick at the back of her eyes, and she wiped them away with a hasty gesture.
“And you think it’s not?” Similar heat rose in her mother’s voice. “What did I teach you?” Incredulity fuelled her words. “Without the cause, we’re slowly dying.” Her voice grew stronger, empowered by her belief. “How can you think that being a hostage to the rating system is any way to live?”
“Because you abandoned us to it,” Tay snarled back, rage building her voice to a shout. “You left us there to starve.”
“Your father…”
“Our father got himself arrested.” Tay saw the look of pain that crossed her mother’s face, but she did not care. “He got sent to the Mine.” She took a pace forward, her rage making her mother take a step back. “I had to owe a favour to Darius, so that we wouldn’t starve.”
“Your father joined the rebellion?” Tarin asked, her mind unable to keep up with Tay’s angry rants. “But he wouldn’t…”
“He did,” Tay snapped back. “Your ‘friends’ kept on at him to continue your work.” Several angry tears fell down her cheeks, and soaked into her top. “He set up a petition to increase the ration size”－she took another step closer－“and your friends got him arrested.” Tarin reached out a hand, but Tay slapped it down. “Didn’t you care about us?” The tears were flowing freely, and she did nothing to stop them. “You were here and alive, all this time…” Choking sobs interrupted the flow of words, and she backed off.
“Tay,” her mother called after her, as she raced back to the stairs. Pain exploded across her shin as Tay tripped up the steps, racing for the room. “Please…” Struggling to her feet, she limped up the last few steps, before entering the attic room and slamming shut the door.
She threw herself across the bed, her breath coming in harsh, tortured gasps. Nothing made sense. The forest; the freedom fighters; Darius; all were parts of a strange world that she wished she had never heard of, and then there was her mother. A dull ache settled in her chest as she focused on the last five minutes. Anger at her mother’s betrayal burned deep within her. She had always known that her mother had left them for the rebellion, but in her mind… A sigh escaped her lips. Throughout the last eight years, she had been convinced that her mother was dead. Father never spoke of her, and the loss was somehow easier for the assumption, but now…
Rolling onto her side, she balled up a fist and slammed it into the pillow. Blood trickled from the scratch on her leg, staining the sheets crimson. Raising herself from the bed, she reached for the jug of water. Gingerly, she bathed the wound, the blood turning the water pink. Satisfied that the wound had stopped bleeding, she returned to the bed, and buried herself in the blankets.
“Tay.” The voice sounded from the other side of the door, and she raised her head. Even though the door was unlocked, Tarin remained on the other side of it. It was a consideration that made Tay even angrier. “I couldn’t return.” There was a pleading note to her voice that Tay tried desperately not to listen to. “They would have killed me.”
Tay squeezed her eyes shut, willing her to be quiet. The pain in her chest increased, and a lump settled into her throat. “I never wanted to leave you.” Tay’s fist unclenched, and she swallowed back another round of hiccupping tears.
“Please Tay… Let me explain.” Tay stared at the door, but said nothing. After a moment’s silence, the sound of retreating footsteps echoed through the room as her mother walked back down the stairs. Burying her head in the pillow, Tay began to sob. Tears soaked into the fabric of the pillow, which muffled her cries. For an age, she seemed to lie there, releasing her hurt and anguish into the down-filled softness.
When the tears had finally dried, she remained buried in the fabric, feeling a pounding headache build behind her eyes. Exhausted with the emotional storm, she dropped into a haunted sleep.
“Tay.” She woke with a start, staring at the door in shock. The lantern had burned itself out, and darkness shrouded the room. The scent of cooking had long faded, and she could hear no sounds from downstairs.
“Darius?” Pushing the covers away, she got to her feet and crossed the room. “Is that you?”
“Yes.” Tay reached for the door handle and pulled open the portal. Darius stood on the other side, his hair mussed from sleep. “I’ve just woken and…” He stared at her red-rimmed eyes and pale features. “Are you alright?” The words brushed her still-raw nerves, and Tay rushed into his arms, tears flowing once more. Stunned, Darius wrapped his arms about her, and held her to him. Memories of the kiss flowed through her thoughts, muddying her feelings. “What have they done to you?”
Tay heard the worry in his voice, and she pulled back. “Nothing,” she said, her voice stuttering with emotion.
“Then what is it?” He led her to the bed, and sat her down, glancing at the bloody water with concern.
“My mother.” Tears trickled down her face, and she brushed them back, angry at crying again. “She’s downstairs.”
“But I thought…” Shock rippled through Darius’ voice, and Tay felt relieved that he did not appear to be aware that her mother was still alive. “Are you certain?” Tay nodded, unwilling to trust her voice through the tears. Darius took a deep breath, his hand stroking her back in a comforting motion.
“Have you spoken to her?”
“Not much,” she muttered, trying to get a grip on her emotions. “She said…” Tay took another gulp of air. “She said she had to leave us.” Darius said nothing, waiting for her to continue. “How could she?” Pushing herself to her feet, she paced the floor, agitation in every step.
“She must have had a reason,” Darius noted, watching her pace with some unease. “Did you let her explain?” Tay stopped moving.
“No,” she snapped back, allowing the rage to rule her. “I don’t care why.”
“I see.” Darius got to his feet.
“You think I should ask h
er?” Tay rounded on Darius, her voice full of anger. “Why should I care why she left?”
“Because you clearly do, and…” He hesitated, unwilling to voice his thoughts.
“And what?” Tay stepped toward him, the anger aimed at him. “What else do you think?”
“I think, I don’t deserve your anger,” he uttered, in soft, reproachful tones. “I also think that you need to find out what they want.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s with these rebels, and they have the Prince.” A note of his old sardonic, mockery edged back into his voice. “We really should know what they want, and where we are.”
Guilty realisation slid through her at his words. In the anguish of discovering her mother, she had forgotten about the Prince, and the reason for their capture. Her eyes drifted to the carved cabinet. The elegant designs made sense to her now; they had adorned the cupboards in her home. Thoughts of Lana and Roj tormented her. They were now alone in the City, abandoned once more.
“Alright,” she replied, her voice still croaky from the storm of emotion. Reluctantly, she took a timid step toward the door, suddenly nervous at what laid beyond. “I’ll talk to her.” Despite the determination in her voice, she stopped moving, fear-laced anger still racing through her.
Darius read the stricken expression on her face, hesitated, and then reached out a hand. “I can come with you if you like.”
“Thanks.” Gratitude swelled through her as she took hold of his hand and walked out of the room.
With slow, reluctant steps, she moved down the wooden staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned her face to the sitting room, and her mother.
“Tay.” Tarin’s voice cracked, but to Tay’s relief, she did not stand to greet her. “I…”
“This is Darius,” Tay interrupted. “You know him?”
“I know of him.” Tarin’s hair was mussed and untidy, her face red with tears, yet she wrestled control from somewhere to ask, “How did you get my daughter into this?”
Amber Sky (C.O.I.L.S Of Copper and Brass Book 1) Page 28