Page 1 of A Drop of Venom

CHAPTER ONE

HAZEL

The farmer’s cart hit another large rock, jolting his barrels of apples—and me—into the air. Something heavy among the barrels clanked against the floorboards.

I winced and surreptitiously rubbed my sore bottom. Despite being folded up underneath me, my thin shawl provided as little cushion as it did warmth.

“Sorry, miss!” the gray-haired farmer, who’d introduced himself as Cibran, called over his shoulder. “I didn’t see that one!”

As far as I could tell, he hadn’t seen any of them, but I waved and gave him my best and most earnest smile. It was the smile that was usually enough to ward off impatient blows from my demanding cousins—save the most ill-tempered one. After a year and a half at their mercy, I was quite good at pasting on that false smile.

I certainly couldn’t afford to offend my benefactor. I was lucky to have found someone willing to give me a ride to Coldspell at all. Rumors of witches roaming these woods made travelers wary of strangers, especially women traveling alone.

But I supposed I must have looked harmless enough—and pitiful enough—walking along the road in my threadbare clothes and mended shoes, clutching the satchel holding all my worldly possessions. Cibran had slowed alongside and offered to let me sit in the back of the cart, and hadn’t demanded payment of coin or flesh for the favor. I’d known little kindness in my life, so I appreciated his immensely and didn’t complain about a bit of jostling.

Well, a lot of jostling. I winced again as the cart jerked and bounced.

While the farmer carried on whistling a lively tavern song to the rhythm of his horse’s plodding hooves, I swung my dangling legs over the back of the cart and watched the mountain ridge where my cousins made their home growing smaller in the distance.

With every step Cibran’s stout horse took beyond our village, the weight on my chest lessened and I was able to breathe just a little easier. I felt as if I hadn’t taken a full, deep breath since the day a year and a half ago when I’d first crossed the threshold of my cousins’ dark cottage.

By the time my cousins returned from their shift in the mine, they’d find a simple supper on the table and no trace of me. With luck, I’d be on the river by then, on my way either north to Crowford or south to Swiftreach. Coldspell wasn’t far enough away to be out of their grasp, but those cities were. I wasn’t particular where I ended up; one city was as good as the next for disappearing into its labyrinth of cobblestone streets, narrow alleys, and garret rooms.

For now, I just had to make it to the Coldspell riverfront. I had some coins in the little hidden pocket sewn into my skirt—all I could hoard away over the past year by taking in mending work for neighbors—but it would be enough to buy passage on a boat, some food, and a room for a few nights when I arrived in whichever city would become my new home. After that…well, I’d have to find work and more permanent lodging.

But those were problems for tomorrow.

I’d survive by facing one hour at a time, one day at a time, just as I’d done since my parents died and I’d been forced to live with three generous-seeming male cousins who’d simply wanted a live-in maid they could beat when they thought she did too little—or too much.

For now, I braced myself with one hand on the cart’s sideboard and tried not to yelp when we jounced over another stone.

By midday, the sun had replaced the cool morning clouds, forcing me to give up on cushioning the cart’s bounces and use my shawl to protect my head and face from the heat. For early autumn, the day was unseasonably warm, though it didn’t seem to faze either Cibran or his horse. If anything, the farmer’s whistling had grown more jaunty while the horse plodded along at the same even gait.

“There’s a spring-fed stream just ahead around the second bend, miss,” Cibran said over his shoulder as I wiped sweat from my brow. “If you don’t mind waiting with us, you can drink and rest in the shade while I water Hymoth.”

“That sounds lovely,” I called back. Even with my worry over being hunted down by my cousins, I was thirsty and hot enough to welcome the delay. A drink and a barefoot splash in a cold stream sounded heavenly.

But as we reached a narrow gorge leading to the second bend, a rumbling grew in the distance from the direction of Coldspell. At first as the sound echoed off the rocks I thought it was thunder, but the sky was clear and blue. The rumbling continued unabated, growing in volume with each passing moment until the noise became easily identifiable as galloping hoofbeats. A group of riders were closing in fast.

Cibran’s whistling cut off abruptly. He flicked the reins and clicked his tongue, urging Hymoth farther to one side of the road and from a slow trot to a brisk canter. I clung to the sideboard with both hands to avoid being tossed off the cart and into the road.

I heaved a sigh when we emerged from the gorge before the riders rounded the bend, but my relief was short-lived.

“Run,” Cibran snapped, pointing to the woods. “Go now!”

I didn’t understand, but I didn’t let my confusion or the speed of the cart stop me from reacting to the urgency in his voice.

With my satchel in one hand, I jumped from the cart into the road. My left foot planted solidly on packed dirt, but my right landed on a loose rock. My ankle bent violently sideways in my worn boot, sending white-hot agony up my leg. I tumbled to the ground with a yelp.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Every beat was a pulse of pain radiating from my ankle, and every shooting pain carried the echo of Cibran’s command: Run.

I got to my feet, snatched up my satchel and shawl, and hobbled as fast as I could manage toward the trees.

Before I could reach a safe hiding place, the riders thundered around the bend. It wasn’t a group of wealthy young nobles enjoying a spirited race along the road, but a band of heavily armed king’s guards.

“Oh, Goddess,” I breathed, and forced myself to move faster despite the pain and stiffness in my ankle.

The guards’ leader gave a shout. The men spread out across the road, blocking the cart's path, with their leader in the center. All pulled their swords and brandished them.