Page 37 of A War of Embers

Zeke smirks before tossing the core of his apple into the bin. Brushing his shoulder against mine as he heads for the door, he snides, “I’m saying your little charade of being cordial isn’t as foolproof as you think.” With that parting remark, he exits the kitchen.

I chuck the rest of the banana in the bin, the taste of ash filling my mouth once again.

Spies in Tellus are few and far between. Most believe they only operate under the cover of darkness, able to blend easily into their surroundings to track their targets.

For some reason, no one bothers to acknowledge spies come out during the day too. They follow your footsteps, retrace your paths, learn your schedules and the names of everyone you come in contact with.

Which is why I’m up at the crack of dawn after a fitful night of sleep, watching the servants and guards pile tents and sacks in a large pile just outside the back door of the estate. I sip from a steaming mug and watch silently from the inch of space from where the curtain and window refuse to touch on the second floor.

Lady Cirilla is just beyond the growing pile, her attire far different from the days she spent wandering the estate in hopes to spy Rowan. This morning she’s in pants, much like the ones I prefer to wear, and a large blouse that’s buttoned clear up to her chin. Her hair is still up, spun in an updo more fit for a ball than a journey into the woods. She wraps a loose scarf around her neck, matching the rest of the entourage.

The scarves are new. I’ve not seen anyone in them before, but every single person seems to be wearing one. I’ll have to make a note to also grab one before departing after them.

Alyvia walks into the room, drawing my attention away from the ongoing preparation. She holds up a tea kettle in one hand. “I come bearing gifts and apologies.”

I raise an eyebrow at her.

She moves closer, filling the mug in my hand up with steaming tea and stepping away just as swiftly. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, being left behind while they retreat to the Wraithlands for days. I hope their journey will be quick so you may find peace.”

“Thank you, Alyvia.”

“Can I ask something without offending you?”

It’s pointless to tell her this entire day is offensive to me, simply because it’s made my plans more difficult, but I nod anyway.

“Why won’t you entertain the idea of staying here? Fulfilling your life the way other souls do who cross over here feeling incomplete?”

My curiosity peaks at her question. “What makes you think I feel incomplete?”

Alyvia’s brow furrows. “Aren’t you?”

“I have lived a long time. I have made peace with my decision. There’s nothing for me here in this realm or the next. I want to rest.” Glancing down at the steam coming from my mug, I frown. “Don’t you ever get tired, Alyvia?”

Even as I say the words, the look on her face confirms she doesn’t understand what I’m saying. People who aren’t in the position I’m in often think there’s always sunshine and rainbows just out of reach if only the person drowning would hold on a little while longer to notice it.

Except that’s not the case for me. I know where sunshine lies, just out of reach of this world in the land of the dead. Where our souls burn into embers and alight the ground in magic.

Instead of responding to my question, Alyvia gives me a sad, lonely smile. “You should come down to the kitchens and keep me company. I know today is hard.”

“Actually, I think I’ll sleep,” I lie. “I haven’t been sleeping too well for a while now and could use the time to relax.” The last part isn’t a lie, though.

“Of course.” She steps backwards through the open doorway. “Would you like me to wake you for lunch?”

“I would, yes.” This way it appears as though I plan to still be here, ready and willing to bid by Rowan’s asinine idea of waiting until he returns. And no one will come looking for me until I’m too far away to be found.

Alyvia leaves after a moment. Peeking back through the slit of the curtain, I watch Lady Cirilla continue to bark orders at the servants helping to prepare for their journey.

I spy Nox off towards the iron railing of the gardens, speaking animatedly with one of the guards. He might be a problem when I’m found out, but I have a feeling Rowan’s attention will be the main one I’ll be seeing.

Minutes go by as the servants rearrange the haul for the seventh time at Lady Cirilla’s orders. Something about dividing up who’s equipment will stay together and what can be left behind. One of the servants throws her hands in the air, letting a tent clatter to the ground, drawing Nox and his comrade’s attention.

I wonder if Lady Cirilla is trying to tell them they only need to bring one tent between her and Rowan. A laugh threatens to bubble out at the thought but I squash it down. The poor souls have no idea what kind of deranged woman they’re taking with them.

Sipping from my cup, I strain to hear their conversation but the spatial distance makes it difficult to hear anything other than muffles coming through the window.

Nox begins to speak with Lady Cirilla, who turns up her nose at whatever it is he’s saying. He begins wildly jabbing his finger from the pile of materials towards the far side of the grounds where the thick forest begins.

“Why are you snooping on my people?”

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