Chapter Eight

The end of the week came too soon, but there was no hiding from it. Harrow spent the final day going through her usual routines in a daze. She read fortunes, spoke to fellow circus workers, ate her meals, and tidied her caravan, but she wasn’t really aware of any of it.

Everything was ready. Malaikah had secured a room for them at a tavern in the Underground and purchased the enchanted lockpick to open Raith’s cage. Harrow had narrowed down her possessions into two heavy bags and bought clothes from the market for Raith. He was so big that she’d ended up ordering them custom-made, and the tailor looked incredulous when she’d given his approximate measurements.

She’d also purchased a horse which, combined with the cost of the inn, had put a significant dent in her savings. It was a plain brown, unremarkable mare, but the seller swore it was well trained. Not that it mattered. Once she picked it up on Friday at midnight, Mal, hooded and cloaked, would be leading it straight to Allegra’s main stables and leaving it in the care of the stablemen.

Harrow had stayed up the night before with Malaikah stealing food and supplies from the circus stores. That hadn’t felt particularly good, but it was part of the decoy plan and had to be done. Luckily, Mal had leftover skills from when she was on the run, and they managed to liberate some loaves of bread, a wheel of cheese, a small sack of vegetables, and two water canteens.

Raith tried repeatedly in his silent, intense way to convince Harrow to give up on her plan to free him, but she wasn’t budging. She also knew Salizar suspected her of something. She was pretty sure Loren had been trailing her all week, and the guards outside Raith’s tent had seemed more alert than usual. But she and Malaikah had been careful on their separate forays into town, and their tails hadn’t followed them there. She was certain Salizar didn’t expect her to go as far as she was planning to.

To take care of the guard tonight, Harrow had brewed up her strongest sleeping draught. The tea wasn’t enough to actually knock him unconscious, but it was an effective sleep aid. The odds were good he’d be out within an hour.

After finishing her last reading, Harrow closed up her booth, putting the day’s earnings in her purse rather than taking them to Salizar. Afterward, she gathered up her crystals and cards and emptied the contents of her hidden Seer drawer in the wardrobe, stashing everything carefully at the top of her bags.

She’d put on as much jewelry as she could today so she wouldn’t have to pack it, but also as a farewell to her old life. On her last day as a circus fortune teller, she wanted to look her best. Half her hair was wound into a messy bun atop her head while the bottom half hung loose. She wore her favorite silver earrings and had covered her wrists with bracelets. She’d laid out her thick cloak with the oversize hood for tonight, alongside loose leather boots that pulled on like stockings and tightened with soft leather ties.

After closing up her caravan, she went to the meal tent and tried to eat, but her appetite was meager, and she managed only a small bowl of soup. People would pat her on the shoulder or call out a greeting as they passed, and she had to fight back tears every time. She tried to act normal, all the while knowing that every interaction was actually goodbye.

No one in the circus had shown much reaction to finding out she was a Seer, making her wonder if they’d always suspected but had understood her need to keep it secret. It only made her love them more and made her leaving that much more bittersweet.

But there was plenty of gossip about Salizar’s latest acquisition and who it could be. The ringmaster hadn’t said a word about it to anyone, and neither had Loren. Even the ones assigned to guard duty didn’t know what they were guarding, and the speculation was rife.

After dinner, Harrow went to the back entrance of the big top to watch Malaikah’s show. Her beautiful panther swung between trapezes and balanced on her hands and backflipped through the air like the fearless, powerful woman she was.

When the show was complete, Harrow walked to Raith’s tent with the sleeping draught and had a drink with Oli, who was on guard duty again tonight. Feeling guilty for deceiving him, she pretended to sip hers and then discreetly dumped it when he wasn’t looking, though she likely could have consumed the entire pot and felt no effect. She was so nervous, she doubted she’d ever be able to sleep again.

After the tea was gone, she went into the tent for a little while, avoiding Raith’s pointed looks as she read to him. He seemed to sense she was nervous, but she saw no sense in addressing it, knowing he would object to her plans out of concern for her. She excused herself earlier than usual so Oli would relax and have adequate time to get sleepy, and then she went to Malaikah’s caravan to wait.

Mal didn’t take long to arrive. She took one look at Harrow and said, “You okay?”

Harrow couldn’t find the breath to answer.

“Give me five minutes. I’ve got just the thing to help.”

Malaikah went back outside to wash and returned dressed in a pair of black trousers and a black tunic, her long tail snaking out from beneath the shirt. Trousers were rarely worn by women in these parts, but dresses were awkward garments for a woman with a tail, and Malaikah had never given a damn about following social customs anyway.

She reached up to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whisky and two glasses. “Ta-da.” Pouring one for each of them, she sat down on the bench opposite Harrow.

They downed the whisky, and Mal filled the glasses again. They downed those, too. “Better?”

Finally, Harrow felt herself calming a little. She nodded.

“Two hours till showtime. Did you visit Oli with the tea yet?”

She nodded again.

“You visit Raith today?”

She nodded once more.

“Bags are packed?”

Another nod.

“Well, then there’s nothing else to do but have another drink.”

…

One hour past midnight arrived.

Harrow donned her cloak while Malaikah extinguished the lanterns in her caravan. Together, they slipped outside and surveyed their quiet surroundings. Harrow waited for Malaikah to give the all-clear before moving. Mal’s Hybrid senses would pick up on any disturbances more effectively than Harrow’s.

Finally, Mal nodded. “Let’s go.”

Harrow took her friend’s hand, and the two women crept through the camp toward Raith’s tent. They kept to the edge of the fairgrounds, sticking to the shadows and avoiding the main path. Malaikah’s ears twitched this way and that, listening for signs of movement.

Finally, they reached the tent. From their cover, they could see the tea was a success. Poor Oli slumped in his chair, sound asleep. The tent’s front flap was securely tied down, but Mal made quick work of the ties while Harrow glanced over her shoulder, expecting Salizar to jump out at any second. They’d opted to go in the front entrance because Harrow didn’t think Raith would fit under the sides as she did.

Inside, as usual, was completely black. Malaikah cursed in a whisper. “Wish we had some light.”

“We can’t risk a lantern.”

“I know.”

They crept forward through the dark to where they knew Raith’s cage to be. Hands out in front of her, she felt the cold steel of the bars slide into her grip. “Raith?”

A light touch on her hands sent warmth rushing down her arms. She peered into the darkness, trying to see him, but could make out only an outline. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Don’t do this,” Raith said softly.

“I’m not changing my mind, so save your breath.”

From beside them, Harrow heard the metallic sounds of Malaikah working the lock with her enchanted pick. “This would be a lot easier if I could see the damn thing.”

Raith withdrew his hands at that moment, so Harrow twisted hers together nervously.

A tiny flame suddenly illuminated the darkness, and she jumped in surprise. The first thing she saw was the flickering orange light. Then her eyes traveled over what that little flame illuminated, and she drew in a sharp breath.

Raith was holding a hand outside the cage beside the padlock. The flame hovered several inches above the center of his palm.

Malaikah stared at it, transfixed. “What the…?”

“How did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

He didn’t know? How could he not know? Harrow felt a lurch of disquiet.

But there wasn’t time to speculate. Mal bent back over the padlock, wiggling the pick. The seconds passed agonizingly slowly, each of them precious and essential to their escape.

Just when Harrow started to have doubts that the enchantment on the pick would fool Salizar’s on the lock, it sprang open. “It worked!” Mal whispered triumphantly, sliding the lock out and opening the bolt on the cage. “Oh, Sal’s going to be so pissed.”

Raith curled his fingers into a fist and extinguished the tiny flame in his palm.

He was free.

Heart pounding for an entirely different reason, Harrow pulled the steel door open.

Raith leaped out of the cage. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, feel the moment he regained his freedom.

He didn’t waste a second. She heard him taking rapid strides toward the exit of the tent. He threw open the flap and ducked outside, Harrow and Malaikah hurrying behind him. Outside, he stopped and took in the still camp and moonlit night.

It was a glorious moment.

Raith stood, bronze skin lit by the night’s bluish glow, silky hair falling onto his bare shoulders. His powerful back expanded as he took a deep breath of fresh air and straightened to his full height. Rolling his shoulders back, he stretched his neck from side to side, clenching his fists and shifting the strength in his arms and back.

A tingle of power charged the air, similar to Harrow’s own when she was provoked. She cautiously approached, stepping alongside him to see his face. The flames in his black eyes glowed, almost casting light into the night. He lifted his hands and stared at them, and suddenly, sharp claws lengthened from his fingertips.

Then, he raised his arms slightly, arched his spine as if stretching, and…huge leathery wings burst out of his back, so tall they nearly doubled his height.

Harrow jumped back with a gasp, and Mal cursed. Salizar hadn’t been kidding about the wings, had he?

Raith looked over his shoulder at Malaikah and bared his teeth in an attempt at a smile, but he looked so formidable that Mal recoiled. Then he looked at Harrow, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She was still caught up on the wings, staring at the foot-long talons at the tip of them, arcing high above his head.

Folding them against his back, he strode off into the night, leaving them behind.

Both women stood frozen, not quite believing what they were seeing, but Harrow recovered first. She raced after him, turning her run into a sprint when she found he’d already made it halfway across the fairgrounds. How did he move so fast?

“Raith,” she hissed, running as fast as her legs could carry her. “Raith, wait!”

He stopped reluctantly and turned back. His face was inscrutable, his eyes still glowing. Those enormous wings surrounded him like a cloak of shadows.

“Where are you going?” Goddess forbid someone catch them now. There was no telling what he would do.

“To kill him.”

“Kill whom?”

“Salizar.”

Harrow gaped at him. “What? No, you can’t kill Salizar!”

His eyes narrowed. He obviously didn’t like that.

“Raith, you can’t. We’re supposed to be escaping.” Harrow looked desperately around, hoping no one was there to see them and raise the alarm. This was the last thing she’d expected, and she hadn’t the faintest clue what to do.

Which was foolish, she realized. Of course Raith wanted to go after Salizar. He was a proud, powerful being, and Salizar had imprisoned and humiliated him. Of course he wanted revenge.

“You can’t kill someone in cold blood,” she explained. “If he tried to hurt you again, you could defend yourself, but you can’t just kill him.”

“Why not?”

She grasped him by the forearm, the muscle like a rock beneath her hand. “Because it’s wrong to take life. Only the Goddess gets to decide who lives and dies.”

“If he’s dead, there’s no more danger to you. Then you don’t have to leave.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

A desperate laugh escaped her. He was explaining—the most she’d ever heard him speak—why she should be okay with him committing murder as if she was the one being unreasonable. She figured a change of tactics was in order. Obviously, he didn’t see the problem with killing, so she’d have to appeal to him another way.

Dear Goddess, she was glad Malaikah hadn’t caught up yet. It wasn’t long ago she was swearing to Mal that Raith was innocent. While she knew better than to doubt what the Water had told her, Mal likely wouldn’t have the same unshakeable faith. Still, Harrow knew with certainty that he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Look,” she tried again, “Salizar runs this circus. He started it, and it needs him to function. Without him, none of the people here would have jobs or places to live, and that’s a difficult thing for our kind to find these days. In the outside world, Elementals are shunned by humans, and there are very few places in the Territories for us to live safely. And some of us here, like Malaikah, are on the run, and their lives would be in danger. Salizar gives them protection and stability. You can’t kill him, Raith.”

Raith’s head tilted. His eyes were distant, and he seemed to be looking through her rather than at her.

They were standing in the middle of the fairgrounds where anyone could see them. To anyone else, Raith would look terrifying. Like death incarnate.

To Harrow, even as she was caught up in her anxiety, he was fiercely beautiful.

Now that he was liberated from captivity, a wildness surrounded him that called to her like nothing else ever had.

Freedom, the Water whispered. Destiny.

She craved it like a dried-up lake basin craved rainfall, and the strength of that craving terrified her. She was being sucked into a whirlpool of something she didn’t understand, the pull so powerful she had no desire to free herself.

Was this the dream? Was this why the deep had called to her? But what awaited her there? Salvation or her own destruction?

“Harrow. You and Malaikah can run the circus as well as he does. He is not irreplaceable.” Raith tugged his arm gently from her grip, and it became obvious that she hadn’t succeeded in changing his mind. Fiery eyes narrowed, he started forward again to fulfill his quest for vengeance.

She couldn’t let him do this.

“Raith, wait!”

He turned back even then. Reaching up, she grasped one powerful shoulder, and then she did the only thing she could think of to keep him from trying to leave again.

She rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

It was like kissing a statue.

If he’d been still before, it was nothing compared to this. His entire body went rigid, and he did nothing—didn’t respond to her in any way.

A little embarrassed, she pulled back, lowering to her flat feet. He just stared at her, his face expressionless. Of course he hadn’t wanted her to kiss him. He was thinking of revenge and wasn’t—

His clawed hands shot out, wrapped around the back of her neck, and then he stooped and pressed his mouth back to hers. The breath left her in a whoosh, and it was her turn to go rigid against him.

That didn’t last long, however. This powerful man was hauling her up against his hard body, his lethal claws inches from her tender throat, yet they held her with care.

She melted.

She gripped his forearms weakly, unable to think, unable to do anything but give herself into the kiss. Her eyes fell shut, and she forgot everything except the feel of his lips against hers, firm and unyielding.

Amid the consuming tsunami of sensation, she felt the Water rising.

The power was responding to him the same way it did when she felt threatened, which didn’t make sense. She wasn’t in danger in any way, and yet it was surging within as if ready to defend her.

Was she in danger? Was Raith the threat?

But it certainly didn’t feel that way. His mouth on hers, his hands holding her so firmly… All she wanted to do was surrender and be swallowed by his strength. That didn’t feel like danger.

“Harrow!” a voice hissed from the darkness.

Reality returned. Raith released her quickly, drawing back, his black eyes wide. She stared at him, fighting to breathe, her heart beating erratically and her power swirling like a waking tornado gathering force. Never had she felt the like before. Raith had done this to her. But how?

“What are you?” she whispered.

The tortured look that flashed through his eyes could have torn her heart from her chest. He truly had no idea who he was.

Harrow was going to find out.

The conviction crystallized within her soul, and suddenly, as if pleased by her decision, the Water settled. The rising power retreated to the core of her, slumbering once more.

“Harrow!”

Malaikah was running toward them. “What in the Goddess’s name are you thinking, snogging out here where anyone can see?” She kept her voice a whisper. “I tried to wait out of sight because I, for one, don’t want to get caught, but I wasn’t sure you’d ever stop! For the love of— Let’s get going, yeah? Before Salizar peeps out the window of his caravan and sees you standing right there? And do you have to have the wings out, Raith? I mean, I thought we were trying not to attract attention to ourselves!”

Harrow looked at Raith, suddenly remembering why they’d ended up near Salizar’s caravan in the first place. “We’re coming.” The words were a statement for Malaikah and a question for Raith. Their gazes met, and she silently beseeched him to give up his vengeance.

Raith looked anything but pleased, but finally, he nodded, and Harrow let out the breath she’d been holding. With one last flick and stretch of his leathery wings, he folded them into his back again, and they disappeared.

Crisis averted. At least for now.

She could only hope the next phase of their plan went smoother.