Page 40 of A War of Embers

Slipping into the bedroom, I ease down onto the mattress and stare at the wall, listening to the sounds within the house. Every person walking by, every quick step someone takes, every breath whooshing out of the chest of the person meandering by. I take it all in, store the information for later, and envision the way I plan to move throughout the house to the world outside. How I plan to sneak into the forest and track the caravan into the Wraithlands. Where I can potentially hide until they’re least expecting an attack.

I have to think through everything. Play any potential scenario out in my head to determine what’s the best course of action for this journey. The methodical thinking is like an old embrace in my mind. Something I’m used to doing on a daily basis simply to survive in Lady Gwenyth’s world.

Staring down at my hands, I notice for the first time they’re shaking. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, burning them brighter than usual beneath my shirt. Everything is about to come to a head.

I can end this.

In a short amount of time, I will be free.

The mere idea is intoxicating.

Everything I want is right on the precipice of happening. Now I simply have to wait for the perfect moment to strike, to put on a show that will irrevocably convey how serious I am to Rowan. He won’t be able to argue that I’m still thinking about things or might be teetering on the edge of wishing I could find a new life.

I don’t want a new life. I don’t want a life at all. There will be no one to grieve me when I’m gone. No one will miss me. So why should I stay?

That seems to be the difficult part for people to understand. Alyvia thinks I’ll find something better in Aïdes. But that’s just the problem. Being here, living amongst these people where I don’t fit in, who have no idea what I’ve done in my lifetime, isn’t going to make everything healed inside of me. If anything, I feel lonelier here than I thought I would.

Everyone has such an intricate web of friendships or acquaintances. People who feel invested in one another, which is not something I know anything about. Back in Tellus it was just me. Lady Gwenyth never would have allowed anyone to befriend me or vice versa.

Glancing towards the door, I note footsteps have significantly slowed down in the hallway. Very few pitter patters of feet grace my hearing. Anyone who’s going to accompany them to the Wraithlands must be getting ready to depart.

Leaning back onto the bed, I close my eyes while I imagine everyone gathering their supplies, hoisting it up and moving slowly towards the forest entrance. I slow my breathing down to try and breathe as though I'm part of their entourage, counting how many steps I take between the back door of the estate to where the trail disappears on the map.

Soon, I promise myself. This will all be over soon.

The gray sky is alight with oranges and pinks, barely visible through the waning daylight as night creeps upon us. The guards patrolling the outer rim of the caravan are good at clocking wild animals and staying alert for intruders, but I’m better.

Several times throughout the past two hours of following them, I’ve thought about throwing rocks at Nox’s head. It would appear none of them know how to walk amongst the trees. Using the branches as a way to cover the noise of my jumps when the wind blows, shaking the leaves and rattling the older trees who moan into the night. The sword attached to my back doesn’t creak with the noise of movement, as I’m used to the weight it bears down on me while stalking my prey.

I stay a fair distance away to avoid being heard or seen, but I can see them.

All the men and women carrying supplies on their backs while Lady Cirilla, Zeke, and a few other dignitaries lead the way. It would seem Rowan is enjoying using his ghost routine in public spaces. A few guards are up ahead of them, scouting the area for creatures, I assume. There hasn’t been any I’ve seen but maybe they prefer to come out at night.

Nox is towards the back, guarding the rear of the caravan, his head swinging every few seconds as he looks around. If he’s looking for me, he’s doing a terrible job.

Glancing towards where Lady Cirilla is walking, I note Meredith and Deena are following her every lead, though they’re not as aware of their surroundings as the men are. Their training could definitely use some improvement.

“Stop,” Zeke announces, holding up his right hand into a fist. Everyone halts at once.

“Why are we stopping?” Lady Cirilla sighs. Suddenly her shoulders stiffen as she stands tall before glancing around. “Is Lord Rowan okay?”

“I doubt he’s even with us anymore,” Zeke says. He glances around at the people in his small army with a look of concentration. “Once we cross into the Wraithlands, be prepared for anything. The Haze can make even the most docile of people turn into the deadliest most possessive of creatures out here. Be mindful not to get in their way and only interject if absolutely necessary. No one dies on our watch.”

At least not those living within the Wraithlands. I lean against one of the swaying branches and watch as a few people shuffle nervously. Are they sensing they’re being watched by a predator? Or is the news of their duty making them quake?

“Everyone knows where they are holding the line?” Zeke asks.

A resounding chorus of confirmation fills the waning sky.

“Then we march on,” the dragon practically roars.

“What about the immortal?” Nox calls out, making my body freeze as I glare down at him.

Zeke lets out an insufferable sigh. “What about her?”

“She could come here. She’s been adamant about seeking out Lord Rowan,” Nox says.

“Even the immortal would not dare trek this way,” Lady Cirilla cuts in. “She cannot harm anyone.” She quickly turns to Zeke, seeking assurances on her behalf it seems.

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