Page 19 of The Flame and the Forsaken

Mariel drew to a stop when she saw the nightgown-clad Augustine “stumbling” down a rut in the road. Hers was the first trap, which rarely worked as well as it used to, since Obsidian Sky was a known hazard to high-value wagons. But even vigilant men could not always resist a beautiful, helpless woman.

The second, the wire, was in case they did.

Mariel listened for the familiar creak of wheels carving through rutted dirt. She timed reaching for her arrow with a thud of the caravan hitting a pothole and used the next loud diversion to pull the folded vellum from her pocket and tack it onto the tip of the arrowhead.

Augustine shrieked. The carriage came to a stuttering halt.

“Sirs! Sirs, help me! Please help me!” Augustine cried. Her white nightgown flapped in the moonlight as she approached the wagon.

“Whoa!” The driver held a hand out. He nodded at his copilot to move again. “Lass, you need to clear this road right now?—”

“There’s a man, and he... he...” Augustine ran backward as the wagon drew nearer to her act. When they’d first adopted the ruse, she’d look over her shoulder by instinct, sometimes giving away the trap just behind her, but years of the act had made her execution near flawless. “Would you abandon your daughter in need? Your sister?”

“Miss, we are under strict orders to stop for no one. Donnae ye ken there’re bandits on these roads? Best I can do is throw you some bread.”

Mariel nocked the arrow, careful not to tear the message at the end of it.Almost there.

“Will bread heal these wounds?” Augustine gestured wildly to the red splotches on her white nightgown, courtesy of three overripe tomatoes.

“Steward Rutland has advised no coaches should stop in these woods?—”

“Do I look like a bandit, sir?” Augustine’s agony was so convincing, Mariel almost wanted to comfort her.

“Well, nay, but they’re known for employing such trickeries. Go on now. Off the road, miss. It will be all right. We’ll send help back when we reach town.”

Mariel held tight to her test and waited. Waited. She narrowed her eyes, searching for any sign of Magnur and Alessia, but they were too good to be spotted once they’d settled into place. Unlike rope, the wire could not be seen by the men in the caravans until it was too late, but the horses would spot it and break free, leaving the cart to fend for itself.

It was true what the man had said, that they were known for the distressed honeypot ploy, but it was one of over a dozen they used, and the variety should have kept their adversaries on their toes.

They were so close to the wire, so why wasn’t Augustine signaling?

And then it came. A single glance in Mariel’s direction, so quick no one else would have been suspicious enough to follow it, but it was all Mariel needed. She loosed the arrow and waited for the gasp, then stifled a snort when the man’s hat came detached from his head and pierced the tree several feet to his left, pinned by her arrow.

“Haven’t lost my aim yet,” she whispered, pleased with herself.

The driver gaped at the hat and note, leaning over the side of his wagon to read the message.

Obsidian Sky wishes you a pleasant evening, sirs!

“Feck the Guardians and all...” The man groaned, his eyes following the note even as his carriage continued, headed straight into the second trap.

Mariel couldn’t see them, but she knew Magnur and Alessia were backing in opposite directions, stretching their wire high and taut. It was too late for the driver or his cohort to do anything but yell, “Trap!”

The carriage skidded to avoid the collision, but the horses were already rearing, snapping their reins and darting off in opposite directions as the wagon slammed to the ground. Alessia and Magnur rushed forward to surround the men and their broken caravan, while Augustine to stand guard in the road.

“Why you’re just bairns!” declared the copilot, holding his hands out. Even from her vantage point in the woods, Mariel could see he wasn’t armed, which was stupidly shortsighted of anyone traveling the roads with expensive cargo. He was worried about bandits but not ready for them? “Take off your masks and show us who you are.”

“Our qualms are not with you!” Mariel shouted the words from the forest. She nocked another arrow and released it, enjoying the sharp whistle as it sailed through the leaves and landed an inch from her first one.

The hatless man stared at the tree, dumbfounded.

“But they shall find their way to you just the same should you resist us.”

“Where’s the Flame?” The driver limped forward, blood staining his trousers from the fall. “Where’s your leader?”

No one, of course, knew Mariel was the Flame, but it suited their purpose for others to continue believing it was a man authorities had been searching years for. It was a blow to her pride that she could never reveal to the craven barons they’d been bested by awoman.

“Here’s all ye need to know, grunt,” Alessia said, sauntering closer with a grin. Her dark-blonde hair was stuck under her hat, part of her disguise, but her smoky voice was unmistakably feminine. “We’re taking what we’ve come for, but it’s up to you whether ye end up in the gulch.”

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