Page 11 of A Heart Disguised 1

Now, as I prepared to leave everything familiar behind, it felt more precious than ever—a piece of her, and of myself, that I could carry always. Yet I couldn’t help but appreciate the bitter irony. The very feature I had cultivated as an act of defiance had become instrumental in my current masquerade. My long hair, once a symbol of rebellion, now made it all too easy to pass as a woman, trapping me in this unwanted charade.

Russet watched attentively from the shore as I waded into the river. I gasped at the shock of the cold water against my skin, but as I ventured deeper, I began to relish the sensation. For the first time in days, I felt… free.

I cupped my hands, bringing water to my face and letting it trickle down my neck and chest. The coolness was a balm to my travel-weary body. I began to relax, my muscles unknotting as I moved through the gentle current.

As I bathed, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed. It was a sensation I’d grown accustomed to during our journey, but here, in this secluded spot, it felt more intense than ever. I told myself it was merely my nerves, my constant state of anxiety playing tricks on my mind.

Suddenly, a commotion above caught my attention. A hawk swooped down, talons extended, attacking a smaller bird. The tiny creature fell, tumbling through the air before landing with a softthudon the riverbank.

“Russet!” I called, rushing out of the water. Together, we hurried to where the small bird lay, its wings twitching feebly.

Kneeling beside it, I cupped my hands around its fragile form. The bird was unlike any I’d ever seen before. No larger than my palm, its feathers shimmered with an iridescent blue-green, reminiscent of peacock plumage. Its beak was delicate and slightly curved, and its eyes, when they fluttered open, were a startling gold.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated, calling upon the healing magic that flowed through my veins. A soft glow emanated from my palms, enveloping the injured bird. I felt the warmth of my magic coursing through me into the tiny creature. Moments later, the bird chirped, seemingly restored. Yet as I attempted to release it, it clung to my finger, showing no desire to fly away.

“Well,” I murmured, surprised, “I suppose you’d like to stay with us, little one?”

The bird chirped again in response, its golden eyes fixed on mine.

“Very well.” I smiled. “I shall call you Starling, for your resilience.”

As I dressed, wincing as I laced up the bodice of my gown, Starling perched contentedly on my shoulder. Its weight was barely noticeable, but its presence was oddly comforting.

Back in the carriage, with Russet at my feet and Starling nestled in my lap, I felt a surprising sense of calm. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, I had found unlikely allies on this perilous venture.

As the journey progressed, I started to adapt to this new nomadic life. The once-jarring sway of the carriage became a familiar rhythm, almost lulling in its consistency. Russet’s loyal presence and Starling’s unexpected companionship offered small comforts amid the upheaval. Despite my initial resolve to remain detached, I couldn’t help but observe the evolvingdynamics of our traveling party. Sir Calibor maintained his imposing vigilance, while Meredith fussed over me with motherly concern. Bernard’s quiet strength was a steady anchor, and even the demon soldiers seemed to soften their stern facades as the days wore on. Each member of this odd procession found their place, creating a fragile ecosystem of coexistence as we moved inexorably toward Lunaria and the life that awaited me there.

Bernard had settled in quite nicely with the human soldiers, his laughter carrying on the wind as if we were off on some grand adventure rather than marching into the jaws of a demon lord’s domain. His easy camaraderie with the men seemed at odds with the gravity of our situation, yet I found myself envying his ability to find joy even in these dire circumstances.

Meredith, bless her heart, took charge of our meals with an efficiency that bordered on military precision. She commandeered the makeshift kitchen, shooing away bewildered soldiers as she set about preparing meals for our entire traveling party. The aroma of her cooking became a beacon of comfort in our transient life on the road.

One evening, as I nibbled at my portion, Sir Calibor approached, his massive form casting a shadow over our small fire. Starling, perched on my shoulder, ruffled her feathers indignantly at the intrusion. “Your attendant’s culinary skills are most impressive, Lady Robin,” he rumbled, a hint of appreciation in his otherworldly eyes. “Our soldiers haven’t had such fine fare on the road in many moons.”

I managed a weak smile, wondering if demon lords appreciated good cooking or if their tastes ran to more… unsavory dishes. Starling chirped, as if in agreement with my unspoken thoughts.

As we neared Lunaria, my anxiety peaked, manifesting in a vivid nightmare that left me shaken. In my dream, I foundmyself running through an endless maze of dark corridors, my elaborate dress tangling around my legs with every step. My long hair streamed behind me like a golden banner, catching on every protruding stone and branch. Behind me, a hulking demon lord gave chase, his thunderous footsteps echoing off the walls.

“Come here, my little bride,” he growled, his voice a rumble that shook the very foundations of my dreamscape. “I’m going to eat you up!”

I yelped, tripping over my skirts for what felt like the hundredth time. As I scrambled to my feet, I found myself face-to-face with a mirror. The reflection showed me not as myself, but as a quivering rabbit in a frilly dress.

The demon caught up, his massive hand closing around my waist. He lifted me to his face, revealing a forked tongue that flicked out like a snake’s. “Time for dinner.” He grinned, opening his maw wide.

I woke with a scream, drenched in sweat and tangled in my blankets. Meredith rushed to my side, her face pale with worry. Starling, startled from her perch, fluttered around in agitation before settling on my knee, her eyes fixed on me with what seemed like concern.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Meredith cooed, stroking my hair. “Was it the demon again? Don’t you worry, I’ve got a foolproof plan for escape.”

Herfoolproofplan, as it turned out, involved disguising ourselves as traveling minstrels—again—with Russet as our dancing bear and Starling as our magical singing bird. As she mimed playing an imaginary lute and warbled a terribly off-key tune, I couldn’t help but laugh despite my lingering fear. Starling joined in with a series of melodious chirps, creating a comical duet.

“Meredith,” I said between giggles, “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Well then,” she huffed, “how about we stuff you in a barrel and roll you out of the city? I hear it worked for a dwarf once.”

Starling cocked her head, as if considering the feasibility of this plan, before letting out a dismissive chirp.

As amusing as Meredith’s increasingly outlandish plans were, they did little to ease my anxiety. By the time we approached Lunaria the next morning, I was exhausted, dark circles under my eyes betraying my restless night. Starling nestled in the crook of my neck, her soft feathers tickling my skin, offering a small comfort.

Despite my fatigue, the vibrancy of the city nearly stole my breath away as we entered. Starling, perched on my shoulder, chirped excitedly at the sights and sounds, while Russet pressed closer to my side, his tail wagging with curiosity. The streets teemed with life: merchants peddling their wares with boisterous calls, children darting between stalls like minnows in a stream, and colors so vivid they momentarily painted over the gray of my dread. The scents of spices and roasting meats mingled with those of fresh bread and sweet fruits, luring me out of my reverie. Russet’s nose twitched, no doubt captivated by the myriad of new smells.

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