by Jamie Day
“We won’t have to check those.”
Why was he so cheerful? I shook my head and tried to act upset. I turned away to hide a smile. Darian was already making the search easier. In a way, I thought that if we had grown up together, and if I hadn’t accused him of killing my fiancé, we might have been friends. I liked him.
“We should avoid the center of the village during daylight,” I said. “To everyone else, you’re still the bandit, and people in my village know me.” I dipped the cup into Liquid Night and took a portion for myself. “We’ll need to sneak in.”
“So,” Darian sounded satisfied, “to redeem yourself for not being perfect, you need to become a bandit?”
My plan sounded so sinister spelled out like that. “Yes,” I answered, “it’s something like that.”
We talked the through the morning, planning our route into Aisling. Darian’s knowledge of my village surprised me. He knew where everything was, every shop, almost every house. He even knew where my home had once stood. As we plotted, we decided the first place to start was Owen Dorsey’s home. It seemed an obvious choice, since that’s where the scrolls were taken from; it was also the most dangerous. Some of our captors worked for Owen. If they were looking for us—there was no reason to think they weren’t—then walking to the home of their employer would not only be risky, it could be fatal.
“We need to sneak in,” I said, though I had no idea how to do it. “Maybe if we hide in the bushes, we can wait until no one is near. If Owen isn’t home, we can go right in.
“It won’t be that easy,” replied Darian. He arranged small rocks in the sand like a map. “There are always people traveling near that house. The busyness never stops. Men are always coming and going. Near the road, I found plenty of food that fell from their wagons.”
“Is that why you were there?” I finally asked the question on my mind. “The day I chased you?”
Darian nodded, but seemed focused on his map, rather than my question. “It’s not a good idea to wander there. We need to watch it. Maybe things have changed since we were in the village.”
His logic made since. Sneaking into Owen’s home wasn’t going to be any easier, but knowing what we could be up against in our search was a step forward. After a small meal of water and berries, we gathered some supplies for our mission. I grabbed the knife first, but when Darian convinced me that I hadn’t the character to cut someone, I handed it to him. My violent temper, as I saw it, wasn’t much to a man like him. I could hurt someone if provoked, but so far, he had been the only one able to conjure that side of me. We put out the fire—there was no sense in risking the smoke trail while we were out.
Darian also had a great idea—one I hadn’t imagined. By scattering the dirt at the entrance of the cave with branches, it looked like no one had been there for years. He even scooped some water dripping down the cliff and launched it casually across the dirt to make it into mud. “We’ll know if someone came,” he said, pointing at the mud. “Footprints don’t lie.”
When we reached the stream marking the end of my land, we stopped and waited. There was no sign of anyone, least of all Owen’s workers or men from Morgan, but I wouldn’t take any risks. I wasn’t a criminal, and didn’t have the nerve for adventures like this. I coughed a few times to empty my stomach of the nerves that bound it tight.
Hugging the mountain, we wandered south. I had played in this forest as a child, but everything looked different now. The woods were thicker than I remembered and many times, we needed to cut our way through the undergrowth to continue. We didn’t see anyone, which gave me hope that we could be successful.
Awkwardly, we ducked under the trees until reaching the first small house. It wasn’t Nia’s, but a small hunting shack that her father had built for guests he didn’t want in his home. Darian knew this building as well. Next to the house stood the smokehouse where he had been kept by the Elders.
“Let’s not stay here,” he whispered. His arms trembled and he kept leaning on me, away from the smokehouse.
I understood his fear, perhaps better than anyone did. The smokehouse looked so tiny now. Anyone held in such a place was bound to leave changed. I shuddered at the thought that our prison in Morgan was the same size, or smaller.
I gripped Darian’s arm. “I don’t like this, either,” I said, quieting my voice into quick stabbing words. “Let’s go back.”
Darian didn’t have a chance to disagree. Several men walked past the trees ahead of us. I dashed behind the home and pressed my back against its wall. Darian stood next to me, trying to control his panting. While we stood there, trembling, the men’s voices announced that they were close, but not approaching.
Darian peered around the edge of the home. “They’re not leaving.”
The nay of horses and the crunch of wagon wheels on pebbles added to the noise.
“Customers,” I whispered. I lowered myself to the ground and crawled so that I could see. “Owen’s home is past the trail.”
Every movement, every motion from the men on the other side of the trees, made my heart pound louder. My hands felt sticky, and pressed against the dirt, they became soiled and grimy. I wiped my palms on my dress, just to rid myself of the feeling.
Darian twisted back into the shadow of the wall. “This is no good. If they come closer, they’ll find us. There’s no cover.”
“We can hide inside the house,” I offered, whispering just loud enough that I couldn’t tell the difference between my thoughts and my spoken words. “No one would expect us to be in there. We can peek out the window.”
“What if someone lives here?”
I grabbed Darian’s wrist. No one has lived here since—” I remembered.
“Since what?”
“Cael.” My voice angered me. “Cael lives here.”
“Who is Cael?”
I suddenly felt more afraid than ever before. “We need to get out of here.” I pulled Darian toward the trees without an explanation.
He kept whispering questions, but I refused to answer. Instead, I kept walking and glancing back in the direction of the small house and the men we’d left behind. I was focused, no longer worried about the scrolls. I was worried about being caught. When we finally reached the stream, I hunched over for breath. Darian stopped beside me.
“What was that about?” he asked. “Why did we leave?”
“Someone.” I paused to catch another breath. “Lives there.” I stood straight and placed my hands on my hips, hoping that would let the air come faster. “You’ve met him. He tried to chase you up the mountain.”
“The man with the scar?” Darian looked puzzled.
“Yes.”
Reminded of the rage Cael was capable of, I stumbled back toward the cave. If Cael saw Darian, he could certainly catch him. If Darian were caught, then I would be also. We were both at risk if Cael saw us. When I reached the cave, I forgot about the mud and stumbled through it, covering my sandals. I growled and crashed into the gate, leaning against it until sliding to sit in the dirt.
I looked at my feet—they were filthy. Scowling, I lifted my arms and saw what life in hiding had done to me. I was hideously soiled. My crimson dress was black with soot and grime. My legs were dark and foul and the dirt on my hands was darker than the cave. I scratched at the skin on my arms in a vain attempt to claw it clean.
“Are you all right?” Darian leaned on the gate.
I rubbed until my skin turned red. “I’m hideous,” I cried. “Look at me. I’m filthy.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Darian’s laugh mocked me. “A moment ago, you were worried about being caught and murdered. Now, you’re upset because your dress is dirty.”
I flashed a curse at the man and scrambled to my feet. “I’m getting some soap,” I told him. Make a fire.” Without turning to watch his face, I ran from the cave toward my meadow. My meadow—the place where my fantastic dreams had once been destined to come true. Close to the lake was a patch
of Ponaria plants. When I reached them, I pulled a few with my filthy hands and tore them from their roots. “Soap.” I stumbled back to the cave, delirious but anxious. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to stop living like an animal. I wanted to be clean.
“Why haven’t you made a fire?” I snapped at Darian, who looked surprised to see me.
“I’m getting it ready.”
I kicked a branch at him. “Will you please make a fire?” I shoved the roots into the kettle and reached toward Darian. “Give me the knife.”
“What are you going to do?” Darian gripped the knife, waving it with uncertainty.
Without another warning, I snatched it from his grasp and returned to the kettle. “Make the fire,” I ordered. “I’m making soap.”
Boiling Ponaria roots was easy. Add a little heat and they soften nicely into a paste. It wasn’t a secret, not like most faerie potions; every woman in Aisling knew how to make it. The trick was scraping off the top, that part was deadly—creamy pink that could kill a man in a week if he tasted it. I was scooping away the extra when Darian leaned over me. Why did he hover like that?
“Stop it,” I told him, smacking his hand with the wooden spoon I was using. “This stuff can kill you.”
“It smells nice,” he said, refusing to budge. “Is that one of your faerie potions?”
The word crawled up my back and made my neck shiver. “No! This has nothing to do with faeries.” I tossed the pink liquid against the wall of the cave. It sizzled against the moisture that always dripped down. Then I looked at him. He wasn’t menacing. He was handsome—and dirty. I smirked with the thought that I must have looked the same. I hadn’t bathed since before the solstice. “It’s a mixture my mother taught me,” I finally told him, sighing. It felt better to say something than to linger in my annoyance.
“Is she a faerie?”
I shook my head. “There are twenty-seven faeries—always twenty-seven. They’re chosen from the women and girls of Aisling. They represent the life of my village, and protect the health of everyone.” I looked away from him—he was too curious—and examined the kettle for remnants of the pink poison.
“How were you chosen?”
I smiled. This wasn’t the question I was expecting. After the previous night’s tales and tragedies of last season, I expecting him to pry—I wanted him to pry. “It’s a long story,” I answered. I removed the kettle from the fire and placed it on several near stones to cool. “The soap will be ready later. We can wash then.”
Darian brushed off his pants. “What do you want to do? Go back to the village? We can search for the scrolls.”
The moment ended. I was still in hiding, blocked from my home with a man who once was my enemy. I was no closer to redeeming myself than the day the scrolls disappeared. I looked around our pitiful camp.
“We need food,” I said. “Let’s leave this place.”
We spent the afternoon searching for nuts and any fruit I could find. I missed the apple trees that lined the horse meadow near my parent’s home; they had always offered flavorful meals. We didn’t venture close to Aisling again, I was too afraid. Instead, we wandered near the lake, where the woods thickened. It was darker there, which was nice; I had lost my acclimation to the sunlight. Living in a cave was having an effect on me. I felt like I could see better at night, than in the day. The woods felt welcoming. They were cool and ground was covered in a thick layer of soft needles. Walking on them felt like walking on a cloud. They lowered and rose with every step.
We saw many animals, but nothing we could catch, and none of them seemed interested in coming close enough to grab. I missed Taya. Her bow and arrow seemed an easy fix to finding food, though I didn’t know how to use them.
We drank water from the lake, but were careful not to stay long, or risk being seen by the men in boats that continually crossed the water to Owen’s dock. It was summer, and trading had always been better for him when it was warm.
At sunset, we wandered back to our sanctuary. That’s how I had come to see the cave. It kept us safe from everything, dangerous animals, the wind, the rain, and so far—anyone looking for us. It didn’t seem so mysterious anymore. I tried to remember the excitement of my first adventure there, but that feeling never returned. Many memories from Moon Season were fading. I told myself that was a good thing.
Back inside the cave, I grabbed my kettle and a spoon before telling Darian to follow me. Once the sun went down, we’d be safe to spend more time at the lake. The stars were the only light during summer nights, and that wouldn’t be enough to reveal our presence there. Even if someone were close, they’d never see us, I hoped.
The lake water was cold; I had forgotten how much when I removed my sandals and stepped to my waist. It was refreshing, though. My feet hurt at first as I stepped on the gravel, but then I enjoyed the feel as I rubbed my feet over and over the rounded pebbles. I removed my dress and dove headfirst into the lake. My body sighed with thanks.
I swam for a moment before returning to the shore to grab my dress and the soap. Darian sat on the shore, watching the sky.
“Aren't you coming in?” I asked. “The water feels wonderful.”
“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he said, darting me a glance. In the dark, I couldn’t see his face, but I was sure from his voice that he was blushing.
“What?” I scooped a handful of soap from the kettle and rubbed it onto my dress. I lowered it into the water and started scrubbing with a flat stone. “Do you want to get clean, or not?”
The man was shy, which made me smile. Men in Aisling were as rough as porcupines. Perhaps that’s why I was becoming comfortable with Darian. He had never threatened me like I had imagined he would. I found his embarrassment charming.
“Come into the water,” I laughed. “I won’t hurt you.” As he inched toward the lake, I tugged at the cuffs of his clothing. “Take off your pants.”
Darian’s voice came out in a squeak. “What?”
I pulled on his leg. “Do you want clean clothes? Give me your pants, I’ll wash them.”
He didn’t argue, but closed his eyes as he removed his leather shoes—and his pants. Then he tossed me his shirt; the blue was fading, but it still sparkled where the blood hadn’t stained. He dove into the lake to hide under the reflection of the stars.
It wasn’t much, but I did my best to scrub our clothes with the soap I had made. I tossed them onto the shore and then covered myself with the white cream. The smell was fabulous. I could feel the smoke pry from my skin as I rubbed everywhere I could reach. Wanting more, but needing to share, I left the last bits of soap for Darian and dove back into the lake to rinse myself.
“Your turn,” I told him, chasing after him in the shallow water. “You’ll smell like a flower afterward, but it will definitely be an improvement.”
He was still shy, setting himself waist deep in the water and scrubbing from head to toe. I had never seen a man bathe before, and watched every moment while wading. Darian was perfect. His dark muscles covered in soap made me want to swim closer. His hair covered his eyes until he wet it and pulled it back with his fingers, allowing it to hang back toward his shoulders.
My stomach twisted and my breath stopped filling my lungs. I suddenly felt distant and alone. I closed my eyes and turned toward Morgan.
“I’m dressed now,” he told me. “You can turn around.” He stood on the shore, the water dripping from his clothes and his hair sparkled from the stars. He looked taller than a moment ago—and handsome.
The feeling in my stomach returned and my boldness left me. I didn’t want Darian to see me—not like this, unkempt and bedraggled. Something—pride, or something more intimate that I hesitated to name—left me wishing that he could see me like I had once looked when I was a faerie. “Please don’t turn around,” I said, dropping low in the water. “I’ll only be a moment.”
I stumbled on the rocks, twisting into my dress, franticly trying to cover myself before he turned to steal
a look. But Darian never did. He watched the stars until I touched his arm.
“That feels nice,” he said, his voice melting me as his fingers caressed mine.
I smiled back. The spinning in my stomach and the tingling in my heart reminded me of innocent days and nights like this so long ago. The feeling was the same. Darian was becoming something more than a friend.
Fortune
I wanted it to be a dream. I wanted to wake up in my bed and smile at the memory of the night. It couldn’t be like this; it wasn’t meant to be like this. I was walking hand in hand with the man who once was my enemy, loving the feelings that swirled inside of me and gazing at the stars of hope, high above.
The perfection of the night ended abruptly; cruel voices in the forest carried a haunting reminder of the circumstances that had brought us together. The voices were distant and faint, but I could hear them and suspected that Darian hadn’t, yet. I stopped moving and released my grip.
“What is it?” He hadn’t heard.
I pressed a finger to my lips and crouched low. My wet dress clung to me. I twisted, trying to end the discomfort. Somewhere behind the trees, men cursed and stumbled. A faint light from a torch broke the darkness.
When Gwenn whinnied, I knew we’d been discovered. Some of the men shouted while others stomped noisily through the brush toward her. Darian didn’t speak. He didn’t need to say anything. He nudged my shoulder and moved toward the meadow, away from the danger. I followed him, but stopped when we reached the long grass.
“What should we do?” I asked him. My voice shivered, partly from the cold that found me, partly from fear.
“We run.” Darian took another step. “We can’t stay here. They’ve found us.”
“They’ll catch us anyway,” I said, trying to keep the fear from my voice. “We’re wet and tired. How long do you think we’ll last?”
“Longer than if we go toward them,” he answered. “I’m not going back to their prison.”