Page 3 of Of Nightmares & Fire
“Who’s there?” His voice is deep and unrecognizable. I press my back against the stone, holding my breath, hoping that with a moment of silence, he will think it was nothing. Perhaps the wind outside, or an animal causing a ruckus. He steps into the shadow of the stairs. All I can do is listen to the pounding pulse that’s rushing in my ears and think about how my first attempt to run away fromthe life that is meant to be my noose has failed before I even made it outside the castle walls. Then his shadow moves, and the dim light from the small staff kitchen is in view once more.
After a moment of silence, I let my breath out of my cheeks and creep forward. Once I reach the doorway, I peek around the corner to find the room thankfully empty. I used to sneak down to this kitchen when Sienna was on staff. Before my father had her killed. He said she had magick and was plotting against him, but as I got older, the more I understood that it was my friendship that killed her. My father never wanted me to become close to anyone. She wasn’t the first nor the last, but she is the one who helped me put a name to what was happening.
Lies.
My father was lying to everyone in the kingdom. Sienna didn’t have magick. She was, however, a part of the Neer. A group of people who support the use of magick in healing and good welfare. She told me about it when I had come into the kitchen after a particularly bad punishment from my father. She had brought a woman into the castle, and together they put on salves and said incantations over me for healing. It was the quickest I’ve ever recovered. Sometimes I wonder if it was that night that caused her death.
Poking around the room, I pull as many items as I feel reasonable from the cupboards and drawers. Pulling the canvas bag I have strapped across my body open, I shove bread, cheeses, and smoked meat in for my journey. I don’t know how long it will be until I find somewhere to settle, but I won’t be hungry along the way. Atthe last minute, I see a knife sitting atop the wood block suited for chopping, and wrap it with a cloth before sliding it into my bag too. I know the realm is vicious, especially for those living near the outer rim of the capital. I will be ill-prepared even bearing a knife, with no self-defense training, but it has to be better than nothing.
Deciding I’m ready to continue, I crack the door that leads to a narrow hall. The end of the passage leads to the courtyard. Once outside, that is where my real mission will be. There will be guards at all exits. I won’t get out easily, but if I’ve learnedanythingfrom my father, it’s that anything worth having is worth working for. With that last thought, I step out into the cool night air.
A wide smile spreads across my face at the luck I must have conjured because the guard at the closest exit is fast asleep. His hands are folded across his mound of a belly, and his chair is tipped back, resting against the stone wall at his back, and his cloak hood is draped over his eyes. I laugh inwardly at my father for employingonly the best guardsfor the palace. The guards that run the kingdom beyond the palace walls are of the more…questionable variety. Their nobility only extends to how much coin they can trick out of the commoners. I’m dumbfounded at the ease with which I cross the courtyard. Running, I only look back once I have climbed the nearest tree and hopped over the battlement. I slide down the other side, landing with a laugh. I clap my hand over my face in astonishment as I turn around and look up at the tall sandstone wall—I’m free.
Pulling the cloak up to cover my face as much as possible, I can’t help the smile that takes over my face as I take my first step towardtown. The next step to getting away: find a convoy that will be heading to another town or, preferably, another kingdom. I will pay for passage to leave with them. One thing I know for certain: I cannot do this alone; there is no doubt in my mind. If the dunes didn’t kill me; the sand pirates would surely do the job. I may not have fighting skills, so the only thing I have to escape is reading. I have learned all I could about the people I never got to see. The land I was surrounded with but never ventured to. I would have to leave with a convoy. There is safety in numbers when out on the dunes.
Chapter three
Astraea
Eathianisawealthykingdom, but the further I venture out into the parts I’ve not been allowed, the more I begin to see why. The people are as dirty as the ground they walk on. The stench of poverty thickens with each dwelling I pass, and the further my hatred of my father grows. He would not allow me to see these parts because he knew. He knew that my compassionate heart would not be pleased. He knew that the more I saw, the more defiant I might become, and one thing he hates worse than women is a woman with an opinion.
It sickens me to know the luxury I lived in every day of my life since my father took rule here. Although I don’t recall much of my childhood before, I know I was never left wanting. These people? They are not just wanting;they are inneed.
Men and women lay sick in filth on every corner. Children play barefoot with nothing but what most in the castle would see as garbage as toys. My heart breaks at the sight. Too consumed by my surroundings, I trip over a pothole in the unmaintained path, bumping into a woman who sneers at me as she hurls obscenities my way. Why isn’t my father taking care of the kingdom as a whole? Are we not only as strong as our weakest?
I turn toward her, offering my apologies as she brushes me off, and because of the distraction, I stumble again. As I turn to right myself in the bustling street, I run right into the back of a man who is pushing a cart mounted with loads of animal skins for trade.
“Watch where you’re going, you daft Kru!” He shouts the insult at me as I wrench upright and put my hands out to steady the angry man, who was at risk of tripping as well from my negligence.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Please forgive me.” I say as I place my hands on his back and shoulder. He spins, surprising me by grabbing my wrist.
“Not just a Kru, but a pickpocket too, are ya?” He growls, bringing the attention of others who are passing by. That word again. My eyes narrow on the man. “You know what happens to those who steal from me?” The grip with which he holds my wrist is painful, more so when he twists it further. The skin heats and burns under his rough hand.
“You’re hurting me. Let me go!” I shriek. I didn’t think this through. I’m not cut out for this. I should have paid a guard to take me. I would have been able to set them up for life judging bythe state of the kingdom. My thoughts ofwhat ifconsume me as the anger in the man rises.
“Oh, I’ll let you go alright. You fu—”
“Think about your next words wisely, Martier. There are children around.” A deep voice speaks behind me, cutting off the brute’s slur.
“She’s a Kru thief!” I’ve heard of the Krusaders. The remnants of the people who barely survived my father’s usurping. The people who were stripped of what little they had left to their names and those who were now forced to beg, steal, and cheat their way through survival. It’s ironic he’s calling me the derogatory name when my father is the one who made it so.
“What did she steal?” The man asks as he comes to stand at my side. I can’t see his face through the shadows of his hood, but the man in front of me seems to be willing to listen to him, so I stay quiet.
“She…she stole…” He pats his pockets down with one hand, looking around nervously. “I caught her before she stole my coin! I saw where her hand was heading!” He yells and narrows his eyes at me; still holding on tightly to my wrist, he shakes me where I stand. His lip curls back in disgust, revealing rotting yellow and brown teeth.
“I assume that would make her a pretty poor thief then? Since you can barely see the latrine to sit on most days?” The people who have crowded us laugh at the skin trader’s expense, and the glower he aims at me worsens. He pushes me as he drops my wrist, cursing. I don’t think the man who has come to my aid is making anythingbetter, but since they are occupied with each other and I am no longer detained, I attempt to slip away unnoticed.
I make it around the corner of one of the small dwellings, looking over my shoulder, and let out a sigh just as I slam into a hard body. His large hands curl around my upper arms to steady me. “And just where do you think you are off to?” My stomach drops at the sound of the dark timbre of his voice.
“I—I’m so sorry. I’m making it a habit to run into people today.” I try to pull away from his grip, but he doesn’t let me go, and I swallow my fear as I continue to try to backpedal. “I’m just making my way to the dune ports. I’m not trying to cause anyone any trouble.” I say, looking down. I don’t want him to see my face. This man holds himself differently than the others I’ve seen in passing thus far, and there is a good chance that he could be a high-ranking guard or a nobleman in these parts. Neither would be good for my escape.
Using his gloved hand, he pushes to lift my chin with two fingers, and I sidestep. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say curtly before continuing my trek, face to the ground. To my vexation, he falls into step at my side.
“Are you a handmaiden to the princess?” My feet stop where they are, and my breathing stops altogether.
“No. Why would you ask that?”
“Your finery is—well, much morefinethan we tend to see in these parts. What are you trying to get away from?” I dare a glance up at his face for the first time. He’s removed his hood, and my breath catches in my throat. He is taller than any man I have comein contact with within the castle, with hair in stark contrast to mine. Where my wavy, long hair falls dark, almost raven-black, his hair is light, a bright blonde with messy curls that beg for a woman’s fingers. An uncommon sight.
