I set the stacks down and look around the room. There’s an open door that leads outside. I take a few steps and stop. Hector probably placed at least one guard out back.
Nerves tighten in my throat as I turn back to the woman and ask. “Where do you put the refuse?”
She points to an oversized basket with a cloth on top. “Scraps go the pigs across the alley.”
I pick up the tall basket and hug it to my chest, holding it as high as I can to shield my face. Without a word, I walk toward the open door…and…freedom.
“Oy, where are you going with that?” the woman asks.
“I’ll empty it for you,” I say sweetly.
“It’s barely half full. It’d be a waste of a trip,” she says, as though I have no common sense.
“I don’t mind.”
“All right, take it. But bring that basket back.” She shakes her hand and adds, “And I suppose I can give you a bowl of soup.”
My stomach growls in anticipation as I nod.
The nerves multiply, tightening in my throat as I walk through the door—past not just one, but two Bloodstone guards—and hurry across the alley. As soon as I round the side of the next building, I put my back against the wall and let out a quick, relieved breath.
“Got any extra scraps?”
I shift the basket enough to peek around it and find a young man and a dog standing a few feet away.
“Better than that.” I indicate the basket and then a fenced in area with a tilt of my head. “Scraps enough for your dog and those pigs. Then take the basket back to that alehouse, and a nice woman there will give you a bowl of soup.”
The young man’s eyes brighten. “I can do that.”
He relieves me of my burden, and I stroll down another alley to the main street. My stomach growls at being so close to a warm meal and having to walk away from it.
I turn down the next street and pause as apprehension brushes against my skin, the feeling that something isn’t right. I stop and pivot in a slow circle, taking in the people and shops. I spot two Bloodstone warriors heading my direction, but they don’t seem to pay attention to me. Still, I quickly duck into another alehouse, snake my way through to the back door and head to the other side of the city. I don’t think the warriors are following me, but I’m not taking chances.
Thankfully, I’m quick on my feet, and I’ve learned my way around this portion of the city. I weave through the streets, dodging past vendors and beggars until I am finally sure the Bloodstone guards could not have followed me.
Breathless, I stop at the edge of the city and look back. The city is alive with activity, from the merchants selling their wares to the mother’s shooing their children home. None of them look like they want to chase me.
Thankfully.
As I approach my home, a sense of loneliness hits me like a boulder. I try to breathe through it, to will it away, but it remains.
Look up.
See the beauty.
I slow my steps and take in the sun setting in the sky. It paints everything in shades of gold and orange. Even my cottage is bathed in warm shadows.
A smile stretches across my mouth as I push open the door and step inside. The familiar, musty smell of old wood and dusty furniture greets me like an old friend. Not that I would wantthatsmell to be my old friend.
Determination fuels me as I move to the washing stand and strip off my clothes. I need to be free of all the dirt and grime. Free of the old woman disguise. Free of the ridicule.
I scrub every inch of my body. Especially, my face.
Hector’s words bruise my pride.“You are dimwitted, and you look like you crawled out of a rat’s nest.”
I cannot blame him for what he said. After all, I approached him looking ragged and old and spouting baffling ideas that no one in their right mind would believe. But it still stings my pride for him to see me that way.
The door groans open, and I gasp as Hector steps into the cottage. His eyes widen when he takes in my naked body.
