The loose stones and dirt underfoot gave way to a cobbled road, and I slowed my pace. Calix tensed but showed no other sign of hesitancy. He kept his eyes down as we stopped before the bridge.
Two soldiers leaned against the bridge’s stone railing on one side, and a third sat with a waterskin in hand. One of the men standing nudged his companion, and both smirked as the first nodded at us. “What are a woman and a child doing traveling alone, and so late?” He stepped toward us, his eyes dark even in the glint of the lantern propped atop the railing.
Calix could take down the three of them if it came to it, but that would rouse suspicion if a change in the soldiers’ shifts occurred, or if another traveler crossed the bridge and alerted someone within the city. No, we had to cross without drawing suspicion. Otherwise, this task would be in vain. There would be no sneaking into the castle if the guard were on alert.
“Thieves overtook us in the mountain pass,” I said, allowing my voice to shake, hoping I would come off convincing in my lie. Calix’s eyes remained downcast. The reputation of the thieves in the pass, I hoped, would be enough for the men to take pity on us. I’d considered using a prickle brush to give Calix and I the appearance of an ailment, but that could have gone wrong. The guards might have turned us away from the capital in an attempt to keep the contagion from spreading. As it was, there was no reason for the men to turn away a woman and child. That did not mean we were perfectly safe. At this time of night, the guards could easily take advantage of us. Calix would protect me, I knew, but it was my role not to let it come to that.
The first guard looked back, but his companion against the railing lent him no guidance. Turning back to us, he huffed. “Who else were you traveling with?”
“Just my—” I cast my gaze aside and sniffled, wishing I had the ability to fake tears.
“Father,” Calix said, squeezing my hand. He raised his chin, meeting the guard’s eyes. As young as he was, in such a situation, Calix would become the head of our house if it were just him and I left. “He distracted them while we fled.”
“Why did you take the pass at night?” The guard’s tone held no sympathy, though the tight downward turn of his lips told me it was likely we’d shifted his mindset just a little.
“Father is—was—a healer. Word came for us to come urgently. One of our customers is suffering with her pregnancy.” Calix sighed. “Now I will have to take Father’s place in aiding her until her delivery. I was Father’s apprentice.”
The man before us flexed his fist, hovering just above the pommel of his sword as if struggling over how to respond to our story.
“Back down, Renfred.” The voice that spoke up was gravelly, aged. Taking a swig from his waterskin, the older soldierpropped against the railing, coughed once, then took another drink. “Let them pass. Can’t you see they’ve had enough of a night?”
Renfred flexed his jaw, and his companion standing a short distance back stifled a laugh at the lecture. He stepped aside, and as Calix and I passed the older man, I touched a hand to his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I said, voice quiet. He looked up at me, wrinkles creasing beside his eyes baggy with exhaustion. I could smell the alcohol from his waterskin this close, and for a moment, as I held his gaze, I wondered why he looked so solemn. Had he lost someone? Apprehension tugged at my gut, and again I let the fear of what lay ahead take hold of me.
Calix squeezed my hand, and I let him coax me the rest of the way across the bridge. Was I leading Calix to a fate similar to the old man’s? Was I to leave Neirin to grieve the rest of his life for Calix and I? Was I to be left to grieve for one or both of them?
52
NEIRIN
“Bested you again!”
I blinked, the sun beaming down on me as I lay in the cool grass. Squinting, I followed the line of the wooden sword held to my chest. A familiar, rounded face looked down at me. Freckles dotted the boy’s nose and cheeks, and his short-cropped hair stood on end.
Thatcher.
I scoffed and pushed the pretend weapon aside. Getting to my feet, I dusted autumn leaves off my tunic, which hung over one shoulder, a bit too large. “You distracted me on purpose,” I said, my voice youthful.
Thatcher grinned, not denying the fact, and playfully skipped back a few steps, his sword held straight out. “You’ll get me this time, little brother.”Little.I was younger than him by less than a fortnight. In truth, I stood an inch taller than him. He was agile, though, and clever. And admittedly, I was easily distracted.
“I don’t want to play anymore.” Tossing my sword to the ground, I picked up my waterskin from where I’d left it atop a stone bench and took a deep drink. It did little to cool me, so I dumped the remaining water over my head. Beads dripped fromclumped silver strands of hair and made wet paths down my face.
“Why’d you do that?”
“It’s hot,” I said, tugging at my tunic.
“No, it’s not. Are you daft?”
I readied a retort, but something told me Thatcher was right. It was the season of falling leaves. Overhead, the sun shone in a clear sky, but it had not been warm in several fortnights. The mornings were frigid, and the days not much better. I was distantly aware of icicles dripping from the bird bath just beyond the flower beds to my left.
Heat surged through me.
“I think I might be ill,” I said, recalling the last time I’d caught an ailment. The flashes of heat had come before I spilt the contents of my stomach.
“You just don’t want to lose to me again,” Thatcher said boldly, though he took a step back anyway, just in case I did lose my midday meal.
Feeling dizzy, I sat down. The heat was becoming as unbearable as grabbing a pot hung over a hearth. Burning, searing. A writhing panic rose in my chest, like a nightmare, like snakes beneath my skin.
