Eli kept Unicorn in the main part of the road, where multiple travelers, carriage wheels, and horses would obscure their tracks. The rain lessened, and high winds swept the sky clean like a broom scattering dust. Sunlight fell over Eli’s wan face, and even with his eyes troubled and his mouth pressed tight, he was beautiful.
“I ruined everything,” Eli said.
“No.” Rey’s words fell flat. They both knew it had been foolish to duel Isiodore. Still, Rey had forgotten how sharp painful memories could be when they were so close, and it had only been five years since Eli had stepped onto the gallows. Would Rey have thought rationally if he were in the same place?
“I’ll have to find another way.” Eli’s voice was thick and low, like he was trying to hold back tears. “Keep clear of Duciel for a while, at least.”
“You can stay with me in the meantime,” Rey said. “We’ll find a new cart. The king waited long enough for his sword, he can wait a while longer.”
Eli let out a shaky sigh. “It wasn’t even a fight. He was going easy on me, even in the beginning. He was right, I haven’t been formally trained. I have no chance of winning like this.”
“All the more reason to wait,” Rey said, popping his head out from under Eli’s shirt. “I can show you Northern Staria, maybe, where they light lanterns at the solstice to guide the dead. You can show me how to catch trout.”
“And you can teach me how to make vvitch-made love potions?” Eli’s smile was weak, but it was there.
“I bet you’ll be a natural. Have you ever seen the sun rise over the fields in Western Staria?”
“Oh, yes.” Eli brushed mud off his cheek with a sleeve. “Yes, I have. All right, I can try it, Rey. I’ll try.”
Bells rang in the distance, and Eli twisted round, jostling Rey. “That’s the guard post by the gate.”
“Don’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Rey warned. “If they see us going off the road, they’ll follow us.”
“They’ll follow us anyway,” Eli said, but he righted Unicorn before she walked onto the grass. They kept a steady pace, but Rey could feel Eli’s heart beating faster, and the alarm bells still rang in the sunlit air.
“Horses leaving the gate,” Eli whispered. “Moving fast. What do we do?”
“Are they heading toward us?” Rey climbed up Eli’s chest, claws scraping his skin, and clambered onto his shoulder. Five guards on horses were leaving the city, but Eli had kept them close to the edge of the road, shielded by an oak tree. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around. They’re looking for someone leaving the city, not heading toward it. Do it now, before they see us.”
Eli grimaced and urged Unicorn the other way, his face ashen. Rey climbed back under his shirt, and Eli folded the ends of his cloak around himself to hide the paunch Rey made. His breath was coming out faster now, and his eyes were wide, fingers tight on the reins.
The sound of hoofbeats drew nearer. Eli turned his head away as a shadow passed them, and the hoofbeats slowly faded behind them.
“What do I do?” Eli whispered. “Rey? Rey, what do I do?”
“Calm down. You’re doing great. You’re great. Turn off the path there, near the trees. Can you manage, Eli?”
Eli nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think so. I think so.”
When they turned off the path, Eli dismounted and gently set Rey on the grass. It was easier to stay low as a fox, so Rey didn’t transform back.
“They dug up my grave,” Eli said, and Rey looked up at him, alarmed. “I thought I should tell you. They knew all along who I was.”
“Then it didn’t matter if you went to duel Isiodore,” Rey said. “He would have caught us anyway.”
“Maybe.” Eli shuddered. “I wish Sabre hadn’t seen. I don’t know how much he heard. And now they’ll find Olivier in the house and think we tried to kidnap him.”
“Perhaps,” Rey said. Eli gave him a curious look, and Rey tried to explain what had happened. It took longer than he expected, and they had to stop to let Unicorn drink from a creek while Rey tried to muddle through an explanation of how he could create a folk story in a townhouse bedroom in the first place.
“That’s…That’s powerful, Rey.” Eli crouched in the creek, rubbing mud off his face. “You know that, right? If stories influence reality—at least in a way, by creating spirits like you and the others—then you’re changing that. You’re making things real by saying them.”
“But only if the story makes sense,” Rey said. “I think. But it makes sense for a wicked noble to be full of stones as retribution for his crimes, or it does in a folktale. It wouldn’t have made sense to tell him to forget us or break the possession through willpower. But now there are cursed stones under that bed,” he added, grimacing. “That could be a problem, actually.”
“One thing at a time,” Eli said. “Let’s escape Emile and Isiodore first.”
