The sky had dimmed. What was once golden sunlight had cooled to a dull gray, and shadows stretched long across the cottage floor. I glanced at the open shutters. Thick clouds crept across the sky like bruises.
The ocean, visible in slivers through the palms, was no longer blue. It was steel.
I sliced chunks of taro and put them into boiling water in silence, listening to the air hush outside, the way the world seemed to hold its breath before the rain broke loose. In the hearth, the fire hissed as wind slipped through the cracks of the window frame. The scent of smoke and sea salt curled around me.
A low rumble rolled across the distant sky. Thunder.
Why was I feeling anxious? Everything was alright.
Alaric was healing well.
Each day a little more strength seemed to return to him.
He’d be out of here in just a few more days if we kept this up.
And then it hit me.
It wasn’t just the storm coming in. It was the feeling in my chest. That strange, unshakable knowing. Like something was shifting.
A wind howled outside and I shivered as the rainstorm picked up, battering the windows with wet, salty air.
It was at that moment, when I was deep in thought, clumsily moving about the kitchen as I normally did, that the cottage door slammed open. I was so startled, a scream didn’t even escape my lips as a man burst inside, soaked through, his blade drawn.
He was tall and slender, but anyone could tell that his eyes glistened with hatred. With the knife still in hand, my breath hitched.
“Where is he?” the intruder growled, eyes fixed on me as he stepped forward, mud dragging into my home. “I need proof that he’s dead.”
Proof that he’s dead?I gaped, frozen in fear. The man moved closer, and that’s when my brain kicked in.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. Alaric was still in the washroom, and I hoped he stayed there until I got this man to leave. But the man grabbed my arms, forcing the cutting knife to the floor.
And that’s when panic settled in.
“Those villagers told me he was here.”
Those villagers!Perhaps Alaric’s crew let it slip, or others somehow found out. Gossip spread like wildfire around here. “You’re the witch aren’t you? Did you curse him?Eat him?Whereis he?”
I swallowed hard. This had to be the assassin who tried to kill Alaric… but he also looked… strangely familiar.
Those eyes… filled with… remorse. Had we met before?
“Whoever you’re looking for is not–”
The man pushed me to the wall, and my head hit it so hard, everything turned white for a moment.
“You’re hiding him! If you don’t tell me where he is, you will regret it witch!”
And that was when someone tore him away from me.
“Don’t touch her.”
One arm was clutched across his side, the fresh bandages protecting his wound. But his other hand grabbed the back of the assassin’s collar and yanked, slamming the man off balance and into the wall. A bowl shattered on the floor. Alaric staggered, panting hard, gripping the table by the entrance for support.
“Run!” he barked at me.
But I couldn’t leave him. I watched in horror.
The assassin twisted, aiming for Alaric’s ribs, where he was already wounded. Alaric saw it too. His movements weren’t quick. But they were smart. He kicked out the assassin’s knee… hard. The man went down with a thud. The knife scraped across the wood floor.
