“Tira,” Una scolds, “you’re supposed to be helping me with this stew.”
“Later please, Mom. Ana and I have to talk.”
We’re tucked up in the folds of our favorite statue in the gardens five minutes later, the goddess Firesta’s flaming skirts making a good perch, just as it has since we were scrawny little girls. I was so desperate for someone—anyone—to see me back then. To treat me as more than an expensive vase to be watched over, occasionally polished and put back up on the shelf.
I ran into Tira, sharp-eyed and colorfully dressed, in the gardens the first day her mother brought her to work. I was seven and imperiously ordered her to tell me her name, because back then everyone I’d met were servants who mostly did what I asked or guards who ignored me. Tira promptly shoved me over in the mud and told me to be more polite.
I loved her immediately.
“That scumbag,” she growls after she’s dragged the story of my encounter with Bede out of me, brandishing her pastry like she might be able to murder him with it. “That filthy, motherfucking maggot.”
“I doubt he has a mothertofuck,” I say, taking her rage and running with it. “He probably just got spawned by some hideous worm thing and spat out from the wrong end.”
“Definitely. You wait, the next time he sits down on a nice wooden seat?—”
She makes a little gesture and a tree stump a few feet from us explodes into a spray of splinters. Tira is a geostri—an earth-magic user, but she rarely uses her talent for splitting wood outside of her day-to-day chores. I grin at her suggestion until I remember how I ended my conversation with Bede. At that, the smile dies on my face.
“As much as I love the idea of you decorating his genitals with wood shards, that’s not going to do you or your mom any good.”
“I’ll stay with you tonight, hide in your room. He can’t take on both of us; he’s not even that strong an aquari,” she says.
It’s true Bede seems incapable of doing much more than frothing up small puddles. “But he’s strong in other ways,” I say. “And he’s got authority. He’ll just kick you out, or worse. And even if we stall him tonight, what about tomorrow, or the next day? He won’t stop looking for an opportunity.”
I can see her running through the options, looking for a counter argument.
“This isn’t your fight, Tira,” I say firmly.
“What about Etusca?” She’s still determined to help me, but she doesn’t sound hopeful. She’s noticed the dryad’s frailty too. “If you told her about Bede, couldn’t she stop him?”
“Etusca can hardly get up in the morning, let alone stand up to Marlowe and his golden boy. No, I have to get myself out of this.” I exhale, knowing once I say it out loud there would be no going back. “I have to get myself out for good.”
Her eyes widen, and she grabs my hand. “You’re going tonight? Do you even have enough potion?”
“Yes,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “I have enough to get me close to the coast. My body’s gotten used to the reduced dose by now, so I can ration it out until I find another healer who can make me more. Then when I reach Gullert, Will can help me.”
If Will were still here as head of the guards, none of this would be happening. He’s the only one of them who ever actually liked me.
He was older than most of the others, and I think at first he felt sorry for the lonely little girl he’d been tasked with watching. Then, pity grew into something almost paternal. He started teaching me how to do things, taking an interest in the basic lessons Etusca would give me in the afternoons. I learned my most important lessons from Will—how to think strategically, how to watch out for myself—things not in the library books.
He taught me to play chess, each move a lesson on how to attack and how to defend—and most of all, how to stay two steps ahead of my opponent. Then there were the self-defense lessons. While I couldn’t counteract any magical attacks, I lived for the looks of approval he gave me when I finally learned how to land a punch or break a hold on me.
And then one day, after nine long years, he had to leave. He’d always had salt and pepper hair and crinkles around the eyes, so I guess I never thought of him as getting old, but he told me about his dream of retiring to the coast and told me that if I ever left Gallawing, I should come look him up. He didn’t sound hopeful. We both knew this was more of a prison than a home and no one would be letting me out of this place on their watch, not while they’re still paid to keep me here.
Well, I’m through waiting for permission.
“It’s pretty sad, isn’t it,” I say with a grim smile as I pick at one of Firesta’s mossy toes. “The only people I count as friends are people employed to spend time around me.” I flick a bit of the moss at Tira. “You’d probably be out of this place like an arrow without all the coin.”
“Oh absolutely. I only talk to you because of the mountains of furs and jewels it allows me to buy,” Tira says. “Tragic, really.”
My smile spreads into a grin. “Really tragic. And I bet Will thought he’d got rid of me. Think how disappointed he’ll be when I turn up.”
“Disappointed? He’ll be devastated.” Tira pulls a face of such horror that I choke out a laugh. Sometimes my life is too awful not to be funny.
“Come to the inn tonight before you go,” Tira says, serious now.
I shift in my seat, unsure if it’s a good idea. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face saying goodbye.
“I’ve got some traveling clothes you can have,” she prompts. “You can’t tell me you’ve managed to scare up normal clothes in this place, no matter how clever and sneaky you are.”
