Chapter 16
With Gruffud fastasleep beside me, I roll out of bed and quickly don my clothes again. This time, I take a pair of his trousers, rolling them several times at the waist and stuffing the excess of the legs into my boots. His tunic is next—I have to roll the cuffs and belt it around my waist. I’m certain I look ridiculous, but with the Pendry family strictly against women wearing trousers, it’s the best I can do.
Gruffud is still snoring when I slip my pocket watch into the pocket of the trousers and sling my satchel across my body. The hinges of the door creak obnoxiously, making my heart thud, but Gruffud only rolls over with a grunt and continues sleeping.
Tiptoeing down the corridor leaves my chest tight, but I manage to slip out of the house undetected. There’s still a chill in the air reminiscent of spring despite the shift into summertime. I clutch the strap of my satchel as I walk as quickly as I can. Everything aches already—I truly hope I can get more refills from Radika tonight. At this point, I’ve grown accustomed to aches and pains, but they feel more pestering than usual.
One woman crosses my path, a hat affixed with flowers adding an entire extra arm’s length to her height. A few otheroverextravagant nobles stroll by, but for the most part, there aren’t many about.
Neris is already waiting outside when I arrive at our childhood home. She greets me with a tight hug then asks, “All good, friend? You’re not still cross with me, right?”
“No, Neris. How could I stay cross with you?”
She smiles. “You’re right. How could you? I’m phenomenal.”
Neris is probably one of the humblest people I know, so her statement is even funnier than it perhaps should be.
We manage to arrive unscathed at Radika’s little makeshift workshop within an abandoned home on the outskirts of the city. As I enter, the stout older woman is walking with purpose around the dank space surrounded by flickering flames from innumerable candles and dilapidated shelves lined with jars, dried herbs, scrolls, and other magical contraband.
The potion maker peers up at me with weary eyes, her bronze face drawn. “Gwyneth, I wondered where you were,” she says. She makes her way over to a small trunk and withdraws a couple of small canvas pouches.
“It’s becoming harder to get away,” I admit.
She smiles, deep lines furrowing the sides of her eyes and mouth. “But here you are.” There’s a subtle pride in her tone as she steps toward me.
I take the two small pouches she offers me, the vials inside clanging against each other. There are even fewer vials than usual in each. I gnaw on my lower lip, my chest tight. After a moment, I meet Radika’s assessing gaze again. “You don’t have more?”
“That’s all I can muster this time, I’m sorry. Hopefully, I will have more for you in two weeks’ time.”
Fortunately, there’s an entire month’s supply for Neris—her tonic is easier to concoct since it doesn’t require magic. Mine, however … I thank her again regardless as I head for the door.
“I’m sorry, Winnie,” Neris whispers as we step outside.
“It is what it is,” I respond.
We start the trek back, speaking in hushed tones as we walk. Neris is in the middle of telling me about some scandal with one of the servants when several figures step onto the pathway ahead. Neris must spot them at the same time as I do, because she halts and grasps my arm. Peacekeepers.
Shite.
I glance down at my clothing. “Bugger,” I mumble as the figures close in on us. The click of a bolt in a crossbow jolts my heart. The metal bracelets weigh on my wrist, a reminder that I at least have some weapon of defense if necessary. I fight against my terraforging that begs to unleash rocks on the men.
Suddenly, Neris slings an arm around me and goes limp as a rag doll. For a quick moment, she throws off my balance. “Tell them you’re taking me to a healer. And try not to let your highborn’s accent give us away,” she whispers.
I nearly scoff at her statement. The four men are mere paces from us as Neris coughs meekly.
“You two! Who are you, and what are you doing out at this hour?” A crossbow is leveled at us. I close my eyes, pushing away the panic that threatens to draw my powers from me.Stay calm, Winnie. Stay calm.
“Good evening, sir,” I force out, aiming for a Grounder accent like Sage’s. “We’re servants for the Baelfire house. I’m just trying to get my friend to a healer.” I don’t think there’s any such house, but I hope they’re gullible enough to believe there is.
“What’s wrong with her?” The man jerks his head toward Neris, who has taken to wheezing.
“It may be the grippe or the plague, sir.”
The Peacekeeper steps back and lowers his crossbow. Neris coughs as though she intends to expel her lungs then gags far toobelievably. EvenIfear that she’ll vomit all over me, and I knowshe’s faking it.
The men step out of our way.
“Thank you, sir,” I say. We continue on as I half carry, half drag Neris. Luckily, she isn’t very heavy, but I wish she’d help a little.
