Page 11 of The Shadow of Polaris

“I told you, the storm scared the usual suspects away last night. There’s no one here. And I haven’t seen or heard of Lady Elpis since they sent her to that tower,” Frya scowled.

My blood turned to ice. So the search party had made it to the city. It didn’t come as a surprise that word would’ve made it back to the city guard; however, it still sent a boulder down my throat to think of the Elders’ reaction to my escape. And what of Vikar? Would they reprimand him? Surely they couldn’t. I thought of the guard who’d delivered my birthday gift. He’d been in a royal uniform, meaning a royal guard. He was sworn to the king and to use discretion when carrying out assigned tasks. A royal guard would rather be sent to death than betray the trust of his commander. Vikar was untouchable, and hopefully free from the suspicion of the Elders.

“I know it’s a pain, ma’am, but we’re checking every establishment for her. She’s dangerous and unpredictable. We’re just trying to keep the city safe,” one voice said as footsteps paused directly above the trapdoor.

“Well, she ain’t here. Just me and the drunks,” Frya snapped as her limping step followed behind the second voice.

Groans of cupboards opening and closing echoed through the floorboards as I continued holding my breath. Don’t look under the mat. Don’t look under the mat. I begged, desperately stroking Arcturas’s pelt beneath shaking hands. She stared with an intense ferocity at the cellar’s ceiling, but continued to stay silent. I promised that if she stayed quiet, and we avoided being caught, I’d buy her a steak bigger than her whole body.

“Who’s the second breakfast for if you’re here by yourself?” the other voice questioned.

Frya seemed to stop dead in her tracks. There was a desperate hesitation and finally, with a convincing sharpness Frya replied, “A tenant had just stepped out before you arrived. I was about to clean this mess until I was rudely interrupted by the likes of you two.”

There was silence then. Dear Gods, I hope they bought it. Frya had managed enough irritation in her tone to mask the quiver in her throat. Seconds dripped by like a leak to a faucet, my heart pumping in overdrive. The blood rushed to my face and I felt a deep roaring in my ears. More shuffling footsteps. The click of Frya’s small feet stopped directly above the trap chute.

“Alright then, Ma’am. We won’t take up any more of your morning,” the first voice said.

Hearing the footsteps recede and the sound of the front door swing open then closed, I finally exhaled. Relief washed over me. I let Arcturas wriggle out of my grasp as light poured into the shadowy cellar from Frya struggling to lift the grainy wooden door.

“Alright, come on out,” she said, offering me a small, leathery hand.

Grasping for it, I climbed up the steps and into the kitchen, Arcturas sprinting by me.

“Thanks for not giving me up.” I smiled towards the barkeep, now flicking a speck of dust off her crudely stained apron.

“At least now you can stop eyeballin’ me every move I make.” Turning the spout, Frya began scrubbing away at the breakfast dishes in her basin sink.

“I appreciate it,” I said, handing her a plate. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. It’s just been… a rough few years. I’m not used to such kindness.” Speckles of sympathy flashed in Frya’s eyes as I choked back the knot now forming in my throat. A silent pause thickened the air between us.

“Well,” she cleared her throat and continued scrubbing, “I expect you to earn your keep around here. I ain’t no charity. There’s a bag of potatoes and carrots in the stores that need peeling.” She nodded to the door opposite the stove.

“Right, of course,” I said, crossing the room and swinging the door open. Glancing back towards the old barkeep, I thanked her once more. I swear a glimmer of a smile swiped across those ancient lips as I stepped into the stores and worked.

The deep blue bruises faded to green, then to yellow as I began my quiet life in the backrooms of the tavern. Calluses formed on my palms from the days of sweeping, cleaning, and peeling vegetables. When I wasn’t in the kitchen stores, I was at the sink- scrubbing a sticky, wine stained chalice.

Frya wasn’t joking when she said I’d earn my keep. Most nights were dreamless. I’d instantly drift to sleep when my cheek hit the pillow. Some nights, I dreamt only of the tower- waking in a dazed fit, thinking the tavern was just my imagination and I was still imprisoned in that lifeless place.

Those nights I’d throw off the covers and pace beside the window, staring at the cobblestone street below until finally my breathing evened and the shivers of the lingering nightmare subsided. With every paralyzing nightmare, a piece I’d fought so hard to rebuild crumbled again.

My wolf companion was there to guide me back when I’d lost my way too deep into myself. If my thoughts carried me away, she’d lick my toes and nip at my heels until I returned to steady ground. And when I crumpled to the floor like a piece of parchment, she was there, licking away the tears and snuggling into me, her warmth chasing away the frigid defeat spreading through my abdomen.

She had nearly doubled in size after only two weeks at the tavern, her little body beginning to fill into a muscular frame under wiry, jet black fur. Her fangs grew sharper and longer. Her eyes were more piercing and predatory. As she grew, our bedchamber shrank. I knew she yearned to stretch her legs. I’d watch her gaze longingly out the windows, her nose pressed so close to the glass it scrunched an inch up her snout. No matter how much scolding the wolf received from our hostess, she still left runny smudges against the glass.

I, too, craved the crisp air of the glade. The crunch of snow beneath boots and the white, gleaming sun flickering between the pines sang to me. If I closed my eyes and truly concentrated, I convinced myself that those mourning doves and winter finches faintly chirped their melodies in my ear. A secret song, just for me.

Chapter 10

It was easy to lose sight of my goal for freedom when the days were swept away with the crumbs and dirt from the tavern floor. I grew comfortable in the storeroom’s stillness. The strict monotony of daily life pushed me into autopilot until three months’ time had passed in a blink.

Occasionally, the city guards did their rounds, reminding shopkeepers and city folk that a murderess was still at large. However, after failed search parties, they focused their efforts on the other realms. The rumors and initial fear that spread through our people of my escape had long since faded away, replaced with uneasiness around the increase in attacks. The creatures of the flatlands were growing bold, attacking hunting parties only a couple of miles from the city’s outer wall. Whispers of panic kindled like a spark in a drought until the entire Northern Realm burned with fear.

Tavern customers became infrequent after nightfall, save from the usual drunkards. The streets fell silent. Those that did pass by were heavily armed with spears, knives and various makeshift weapons. So far, the creatures had maintained some distance from the wall; however, with each new attack, they grew closer. It was only a matter of time.

Four months since we’d arrived at Frya’s marked the eve of our city’s most honored tradition- Festival. The energy of the city changed entirely on winter solstice. The northerners needed relief from the suffocating fear of the recent attacks.

Leaning against the bar with Arcturas curled at my feet, I could hear the echoes of bright, euphoric music and boisterous laughter through the cracked tavern window.

The longest night of the year, filled with spiced berry cider and buttery, flaky moon cakes, was the peak of Polaris’s power. Drawing from the burning, bright stars speckled across the midnight sky, she’d summon the wards shrouding our realm, shielding us from the dangers roaming the far north. From the creatures with horrid red eyes and putrid flesh. As time went on and our people lost faith, her wards weakened- leaving cracks for the creatures to slip through. Now, more than ever, our people prayed for strength in her wards. With the increasing attacks, more and more northerners sought Polaris for her protection. The city folk turned to their faith, considering their fear. With this dramatic shift of faith, I prayed her wards would be impenetrable again.

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