Page 22 of Godsbane
I clear my throat and start walking to my door. “Captain,” I nod.
He follows suit, face gravely serious as we pass in the narrow hallway. “Princess.”
I’m unlocking the door to my room when I hear his footsteps stall.
“Godsbane.”
It’s not a question, but a breathed realization at the floral bloom inked between my shoulder blades and the thick scar it attempts to cover.
“Godsbane,” I repeat without moving.
The captain lets out a low, deep chuckle. “Fitting,” he replies.
I glance over my shoulder, curiosity written plainly on my face, only to see him swaggering into the bathing chamber.
“We leave at dawn, princess.”
It’s still dark outside when a loud pounding wakes me from my restless slumber.
“Give me a second,” I groan out as another, louder knock sounds.
I dig through my bag quickly searching for my oversized cotton shirt and slip it over my naked body. The impatient knocker pounds a third time, causing me to completely abandon my search for pants. The hem of the shirt skims the bottom of my ass, but it’ll have to be enough for now.
Just before the fist can pound again, I jerk open the door to find a young woman holding a steaming mug and an envelope.
“Are you Ivy?” she asks, clearly annoyed at me for reasons unknown.
“I am.”
“I was told to give these to you.”
She extends both hands and stares at me. When I don’t react quickly enough, she shakes the objects she holds, signaling for me to hurry up.
I force a saccharine smile and take the mug and envelope from her hands. The scent of fresh coffee hitting my nostrils elicits an audible moan before I can snap my lips shut. The mysterious inn employee vanishes before I can thank her.
I take several sips of the coffee while I walk back to sit on my bed, carefully stepping over the pile of clothes unceremoniously scattered across the worn rug that covers the floor. It’s hot and rich, a little bitter, but I don’t mind.
Despite the perception that I live a life of luxury, coffee is one of the few indulgences that I allow myself. My father always has exotic beans from the island nations shipped in for my birthday and I know they’ll be waiting on me at the governor’s manor when I return.
Or they will be, if I return.
Thatiffeels heavier and heavier each passing day. Another night filled with haunted dreams turns into another day on the road with my fated doom. There’s no escaping what awaits me.
I slide my finger under the wax seal and read three sentences scrawled across the parchment.
Storms knocked down trees over the road. No travel today.
P.S. The rats say hello.
I read, what I presume to be, Captain Murphy’s scrawled words again.
Storms knocked down trees over the road.
If the storm was powerful enough to uproot trees, there’s likely damage to homes, shops, and schools. They can spread whatever stories they want about me because of my disapproval of their gods and their forced religion, but I have never abandoned my people when they were in need and I don’t intend to start now.
I down the rest of the coffee quickly and search the unruly clothing pile for something inconspicuous to wear. I leave behind any trace of my identity or status in the small room, choosing to wear the brown of the common folk over the Emerald Region’s green. I fix my hair into a simple braid before pulling the cloak’s hood down over my eyes.
I don’t need or want their recognition. I am not a politician looking to garner favor, just an unworthy heir hoping to help without being turned away.
