Page 5 of Fear the Flames
“I don’t know if I want to ask this, but how much shit did you get into?” Finnian asks.
“No more than the usual amount.”Lies, I think I’ve just gotten myself into an immeasurable amount of shit. I turn my horse toward the gates and nudge her in the side, signaling her to run.
If you run, I’ll find you.
Chills snake up my spine, but this time it’s not from the rain. I don’t turn around, but I swear I can feel the heat of his gaze branding my back through the attic window. We keep pushing our horses through the dark, rain-sodden forest until I’m sure nobody has followed us.
There isn’t a single place in this world you can hide from me, you understand?
Another chill creeps up my spine. That’s impossible. I’ve been in hiding for fourteen years, and nobody has managed to find me. There’s no way a random soldier with no ties to me will be the one to change that. If he was trailing us, it would have to be on horseback to match our pace, and we would hear him riding through the forest. The rain is also heavy enough that it will cover any tracks we make.
No, he’s not coming.
Arrogant prick.
We make it to the edge of the Terrwyn before we slow our horses down. The rushing water of the Caleum River signals the start of our ascent up the mountainside. I dismount from my horse and bring her over for a quick drink after sprinting for the last hour.
I haven’t stopped gnawing on my bottom lip since we left the tavern, and I can taste the coppery blood on my tongue. There are too many thoughts flashing through my head. Too many possible scenarios that could end with me dying, or worse, back in an Imirath cell. I crouch down by the river to splash cool water on my already freezing face before sliding my hands up and tangling them in the roots of my damp hair.
Just breathe.
In and out. In and out.
Find a way to control the situation before it controls you.
I sense Finnian’s presence beside me before he opens his mouth. “You’re going to need stitches if you keep biting your lip like that.”
A halfhearted chuckle falls from my lips, “What did you find out?”
He sighs while sinking into a squat beside me. He takes an arrow from his quiver and runs his fingers through the feathers. “Their commander is making them look for something. They don’t know what,” Finnian says. That confirms the soldier is a high-ranking one, maybe even a general since he knows what the army is looking for.
“They’re looking for me, Finnian,” I whisper. The arrow slips from his hands and he sinks his fingers into the muddy riverbank to keep himself from toppling over. I force myself to turn my head and look at him. Disbelief and confusion cloud his features.
“No,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Most of the continent,the world,thinks you’re dead.”
“Most,” I reason. Some still believe I’m alive because nothing has ever happened to the dragons. Though, how could anything ever happen to them? They’re prisoners in Garrick’s castle… just as I was.
“Did you learn that from spying, or was someone in the attic with you?” he questions. I have to be careful with my words. It’s not that I don’t want to tell Finnian or that I can’t; I just don’t want him to get worked up over something that might not even happen. I would rather shield him from uncertainty until I’ve gained some semblance of certainty.
“A soldier followed me. I think he’s a high-ranking soldier.”
“Does he knowyou’rethe heir?” Finnian demands, shooting up and towering over me.
“No,” I say while getting to my feet next to him. He still towers over me, but Finnian towers over everyone. I’ve never met anyone as tall as him, but the soldier from the attic was close. We used to be the same height when we were younger, but he shot straight up like a tree when he was fourteen. I’m average, which helps me blend in with a crowd, but Finnian is staggeringly tall.
“All I got out of him is that Vareveth is looking for the Atarah heir. The netherwraith cut the meeting short before I could acquire the exact purpose,” I say in a calming tone. Finnian visibly relaxes at my clarification. Guilt eats at me for keeping tomorrow’s meeting hidden from him. I know it’s stupid to go alone, but I can’t put Finnian at risk of an ambush. I don’t trust the soldier; therefore, I won’t bring Finnian around him. It’s dumb but simple logic. “What else did you learn from the soldiers on the lower level?” I ask, both out of curiosity and to take the attention away from me.
“Vareveth is set on war. They’re tired of making attempts at peace.”
“They finally have a commander that knows you can’t make peace with a tyrant. Good for them,” sarcasm drips from every word. Though, it benefits me that they don’t want peace. It’s less of a chance Vareveth wants me for ransom.
Finnian continues while I walk over to where the horses nuzzle against each other, “They’ll be in this part of the continent for about two more weeks. Their commander is with them—apparently, he’s got a scar on his face that gives him away.”
My blood chills and I swear I stop breathing for a moment. My jaw hangs open while my heart pounds like a war drum at the center of my chest, much like it did against the floorboards. I don’t have to keep the shock from my face since my back is to Finnian, a small blessing.
I was face to face with the Commander of Vareveth.
I held a knife to his throat in a dusty attic.
