Page 84 of Silverbow
“You can’t wake up when you don’t go to sleep.”
“You didn’t have to loom over meall night.”
“You jumped out a bloody window,” he sighed. “I’d say that warrants looming.”
“I didn’t jump,” she protested. “Iclimbed.”
“Youfell.“ Well, that wasn’t wrong. Still, she wasn’t fool enough to try it a second time. He didn’t spare her another look as he gathered both their saddlebags over his shoulder and disappeared down the hall.
Enya watched his retreating back, anger and frustration mounting. There would be no escaping him now. He would drag her from Windcross Wells without her father. Perhaps it was the kind of thing Liam would consider rash, but Enya stared down at the flickering nub of candle and slid the little table over beside the musty curtains. She watched it singe the ends and trailed after Oryn, hissing curses through her teeth as her ribs protested every stair.
Arawelo waited next to the mounting block. She normally would have found a challenge in that, but she didn’t dare try to mount from the ground with the demi-elves watching. Bade was already chuckling as she inched stiffly across the yard.
“Were you born without the proper instincts for fear, girl?” He asked as she climbed the block. “Perhaps they ought to study you in Artelaia.”
Enya gave a huff that turned into a whimper as she threw her leg over her saddle.
“He’s on the Misthol Gate,” Colm muttered. “When we get there Ansel, you give your papers to the man with the mustache with the curled ends. Just him, no one else.”
“And if I tell you to run, you run,” Oryn ordered.
“I could run a lot better without a broken rib,” she breathed.
“I’m sure you could.”
“Fire!” Someone shouted. “The bloody inn is on fire!”
Enya studied her reins as faces whipped toward her.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Oryn growled.
Enya turned to Bade. “I don’t find fear to be particularly useful. Anger though, anger works. Shall we?”
The dark eyed demi-elf gaped at her. Enya supposed she should find some satisfaction in that, but with every step she took away from her father, she found herself hard pressed to find satisfaction even in the smoke.
Kiawa and Cle pressed in close as they wound toward the Misthol Gate. The city was not so crowded at this hour and their proximity was a cleardeclaration of Enya’s situation. Arawelo’s ears lay flat against her head in protest. She too seemed to realize, invisible as their bonds were, they were still bonds.
Enya’s heart fluttered as they approached the line of green coats. A pair of black clad wielders stood atop the gate towers, watching the crowd milling below. Around her, the demi-elves eddied seamlessly, moving forward and falling back to ensure the guard with the mustache was the one who took her borrowed papers. He darted a look at Colm and waved her through.
They rode south in silence. She could feel Oryn’s eyes boring into her back as if she might attempt a run for it on the flat expanse of Berdea Plain.Does he think me a complete fool?Though perhaps he was right to stare at her because she eyed every inch of the Misthol Road, every wagon they passed, every village they plodded through, trying to sort out a way back to Windcross Wells. When they stopped for the evening and she still hadn’t come up with a single plan to escape, her throat grew tight.
“How long is it to Drozia?” She finally asked as they watched chickens roast on a spit. Bade had purchased them from a farm they passed, densely packed as they were along the road.
“Two months,” Colm answered. “Perhaps a bit less if we make good time.”
“Do you grow tired of our company?” Aiden asked with a grin.
Enya only shrugged. She’d lost count of how long it had been since she left Ryerson House, but two months in the saddle suddenly felt like an eternity. When she set out, Windcross Wells was meant to be the end of her journey. After Innesh, she hadn’t been so sure, but before she’d met Oryn bloody Brydove, she hadn’t thought she’d see another two months.
She wondered where Liam was. She wondered what had happened to Griff and Alys. She wondered if her father would still be alive by the time she reached Drozia and a crushing guilt tried to seize hold of her.
“Why aren’t we on the Tuminzar Road?” She asked.
“The Tuminzar Road is hardly traveled anymore,” Colm answered. “Around Eastwood is better than through.”
“Why?”
“The land is scarred. Nothing grows, nothing lives. It’s nearly a month with no food, no shelter, the road melted away in most places. And then on the other side is a hard climb through the mountains. Around is better than through, even if we do have to remain in Estryia longer.”
