MORGANA
The village of Otscold is busy tonight, the lights of the houses like blazing eyes in the dark. I’m conscious of every person who passes me—their faces morph into the features of my guards as they get close. But no one from the manor should be here yet. In an hour, when half of them finish their shift, they’ll make their way down to the Fox and Deer to spend their earnings at the only place in town worth spending them.
What none of them know is that I visit the village as often as they do. I’ve been sneaking out of Gallawing for a decade, visiting Otscold as much as I please, even when I’m supposed to be under lock and key.
It was Will’s doing, though he never knew about it. He used to set up scavenger hunts for me when I got particularly miserable and bored, hiding various fancy ornaments around the manor and making me search for them.
That was how I found the door behind the bookshelves in the library. It was caked with dust and grime and clearly hadn’t been used in years, but when I managed to get it open at last, there was a staircase down into the basement, right into an old delivery tunnel that came out beyond the manor grounds.
That’s how I earned my only shred of freedom—the one that’s stopped me going insane. I guess it’s a good thing most of my keepers are so used to ignoring me that none of them questioned just how many hours I spent in the library “reading.” I did plenty of that too, but half the time I wasn’t anywhere near the books. Instead, I was scampering down the lane to Otscold—and to my friends.
Friends.Without Tira, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to seize the opportunity. But she talked about the village with such animation that it seemed like a magical world to me—one full of the life and energy my own world lacked. All I had to do was follow her lead and keep an eye on the clock. I was always back in the library by the next mealtime.
It was enough, a lifeline. I learned more than I can say playing in the outer fields with the village children. It’s there I got into my first fight, learned my first curse word, and eventually, as we grew older, had other firsts too.
The Holmses’ inn puffs thick smoke into the sky, creating fresh clouds on the already overcast evening. It means Kit, Tira’s older brother, is at work. Like his mother, he’s an incendi, but his special talent is an ability to keep a fire going, burning just as high or low as he wants, for days on end. It means that in the colder months, the inn is the most inviting place for miles.
His face twists in surprise as I meet him coming out of the kitchen of the pub. A strange tightness settles on my chest thinking of the particular firsts I shared with him. He was my first kiss, the first—and only—person I’ve ever had sex with. We were close, for a while, but we drifted apart when he realized stolen moments were all I had to offer. I don’t blame him for moving on. He deserves better.
None of that matters today. All I can think is that this might be the last time I see his easy, open face.
“Ana?” he asks.
“Hey, Kit.” I try to sound relaxed. “Is Tira around?”
“She’s upstairs.” His brow furrows as he glances around the busy pub. There are faces I recognize and others I don’t, including a burly group of travelers in the corner. “Should you be here? Won’t your lot be coming in soon?”
“My lot.” He means my guards.
Kit and Tira’s parents know full well I’m not supposed to leave the manor, but they always turn a blind eye to my being at their pub, as long as I’m careful. Showing up at this hour, when the guards are near at hand, isnotcareful. But it just so happens this is the only time I could get out today without the guards noticing my absence. I had to be seen eating dinner, or someone would come looking for me. But we’re late enough in the day now that no one will have reason to check on me until morning.
I’m so close to freedom, I can taste it. In half an hour, I’ll be able to hitch a lift on the butcher’s wagon to get to the next town over—and from there, I can arrange for passage on a coach. Just half an hour, and I’ll be on my way.
“I’m not staying long,” I explain.
Kit nods, relieved, and gives me a warm smile. He doesn’t ask why I’m here, which is for the best. The fewer people who know, the better. Upstairs, Tira’s already holding the wrapped bundle in her arms, clutching it like an infant, her face pulled tight.
“Don’t, Tira,” I warn her.
“I didn’t say anything, you ghoul.” She sniffs.
“But you’re going to get emotional,” I say, “And then I will too, and I won’t be able to leave, and I’ll have to stay in that damned place withering away until Iactuallylook like a ghoul.”
“Too late,” she shoots back, and I give her a strained smile. She shoves the bundle into my hands.
“There, proper clothes. Better for traveling. There’s some coin too?—”
“No, Tira, I don’t need it.”
“I know you’ve swiped some of those pretty baubles from the manor, but it’ll still take time to sell them on the road. So until then, take it. No arguments. Neither of us have time.”
“Thank you.”
“And you be careful. I mean, not just with traveling on your own. They say everyone in Newtown’s frantic about the upcoming cleric inspections. Most of the county thinks they’re going to wake up with the Scarlet Order in their front yard.”
“I’ll be fine, Tira. I won’t stay anywhere long enough to get caught up in all that.”
It happens about once a year. The Temple’s clerics visit each community, make sure everyone’s paying proper reverence to the gods and keeping heresy at bay, and then—usually—they leave. But every now and again, things can go badly. Purges are rare, but that doesn’t make people fear them any less. “People do crazy things when they’re afraid, Ana,” Tira says. “Just watch yourself, you hear?”
