| |
I was a fraction away from losing the tenuous grip on my self-control, when the Dwarf finally darted down the counter to serve other patrons: two guards from the Mythlandrian realm, their seal worn brazenly upon their cloaks. The hood drawn up over my head shielded me from sight, but they were seeking someone, it was evident in their curious glances in my direction, as the Dwarf regaled them with his chatter.
My hands curled into fists, still resting against the bar. When the barkeep turned in my direction, then spoke to the guards, I considered taking my leave. Surely if Lorelei would frown on killing one being, she'd not think killing three was acceptable. Were it not for the fact that I wanted to push recent events from my memory, I'd have left without the brew. But I needed, for a time, just to forget.
It took another unbearably long stretch and staggering amounts of self-control before the barkeep finally handed me several brown bottles filled with the "land's finest ale and Faery wine." Most likely swine swill, but it would have to do. Before the Dwarf had a chance to favor me for my ample payment, I exited that oubliette in search of another.
The storm that had torn through leaves and trees had ceased, leaving the ground damp and smelling like earth and spoiled fruit. Flashes of lightning lit the distant sky with bolts of blue. The Mythlandrian guards watched me exit, though I took care to do so with nonchalance and indifference to avoid raising suspicion. King Etienne's guards would be seeking Adrius and Lorelei, and I imagined the opportunity to torture me for information would be appealing. I invite them to try. They would fail. And I would refuse to feel guilt, as it would be in self-defense. That made things much more gratifying. Killing them without evoking her displeasure. I almost wished they'd provoke me. She is not here, what difference does it make? I needed no excuse to take a life if it pleased me. But I kept on walking, and they did not attempt to stop me.
But I'd not traveled far before I heard the pub door open and swing shut behind me. Footsteps fell, following my path. Quiet, but too quiet, as though he was trying too hard to remain unheard. Did he not know of the powerful hearing the Fey have? He might as well have been stomping through the wood on my trail.
The steps stopped. For a piece it was quiet. Silent. I continued on, traveling a jagged path in the general direction of my destination.
They resumed again, slow and steady. Coming my way—following my path.
His first mistake. He would only be granted three. My hand gripped the hilt of my sword. I slowed under the shelter of a low hanging limb, lit with glowing beetles. Slowly the steps behind me caught up and then stopped.
One beat of silence...two...three...
Walk away, I silently urged. Return to your stool at the tavern.
He didn’t.
Mistake number two.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he called out.
I stopped and turned my head, just enough to catch his scent. One of the Mythlandrian guards. Such a long way from home, and by the absence of any other footfalls, all alone. He'd ventured out into the night on—what? A hunch perhaps? I nearly sighed. If only he'd left well enough alone. As I'd tried to.
"Hey," he called when I did not turn to answer. "It is you I am speaking to. We are searching for a girl, half-Faerie, half-witchling...more human whelp than anything, really." He scoffed to himself.
Three.
All of a sudden I was filled with anger and a surge of memories. The number rang in my head like a distant bell, chiming a horrific past event. Without cause or warning I was transported back to a memory. One I'd not thought of in more years than I could count. A memory I'd hoped never to revisit again. I couldn’t see straight and for a time there was nothing but the thrum of my beating heart.