The Essence
Page 33
Sebastian raced forward, shoving his way through the throng of soldiers and shouting at Brooklynn as she jumped off of her horse, even before she’d come to a complete stop. She handed him the reins.
“What are you doing? You can’t ride him like that!” Sebastian berated her, running his hand along the horse’s coat and swiping away layers of thick, frothy sweat.
“Where’s Charlie?” Brook demanded, ignoring the stable
master’s concerns for the animal. When she saw Aron, she repeated herself, calling out to him above the heads of the others, not caring that she should be asking after Queen Di Heyse now, rather than her childhood friend. “Where’s Charlie?”
Aron looked frazzled as he threw his arms in the air. “I don’t know. I’ve searched everywhere, but I wasn’t here when the train started moving.” He ran one hand through his already rumpled hair. “I haven’t seen her. I have no idea if she was on the train when it pulled away.”
Brook turned to her men then, her voice loud and commanding. “Was anyone here? Did any of you see your queen?”
Heads shook, and among the buzz of voices the consensus seemed to be that no one knew what had happened to her. No one had seen where Charlie had gone.
Brook paced, her shoulders rigid and her boots pounding angrily against the rough-hewn timbers that served as sidewalks. Her hair whipped wildly around her face as she muttered to herself. When Aron tried to interject, tried to ask her what she meant to do, she raised her hand, effectively silencing him.
After a moment, she stopped marching and lifted her chin. “We’ll take an hour,” she shouted, loud enough to be heard by everyone. “One hour. Break into parties of three and search everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Homes, businesses, schools, and brothels. I don’t care, if it has walls, search it. In one hour we’ll meet back here and regroup.” She turned to Sebastian. “You take care of the horses.” At Sebastian’s gaping expression, she added, her expression softening, “You can have five men, but that’s all I’ll spare.” She stepped closer so her soldiers couldn’t hear. “Get them ready for travel, Sebastian. Find grain and water, whatever we need. If we don’t find Charlie in the next hour, we’re heading north.”
xi
Zafir looked downright homicidal. He looked like he wanted to wrap his hands around the throat of the man who’d just pushed me through the undersized doorway and throttle him.
Or maybe he would’ve preferred the use of weapons. To make it a slow and torturous death.
But he was in no position for fighting of any kind. He’d been gagged and restrained, both by ropes and chains. A wise choice on the part of our captors, since surely rope alone wouldn’t have held the royal guard.
His eyes blazed with deadly determination as they alit on me, and I could practically read his thoughts: I will get you out of this.
I believed him, of course. I’d wager my money on Zafir any day.
I glanced around, taking in our modest surroundings. The cottage was more of a hovel really, built from stacked stones, of course, and sealed with some sort of black ooze that looked—and smelled—like it might have been made from manure. The ceiling was too short, even for me, as was the door, lending the place a confining feel. Filthy straw covered the dirt floor, serving as mats, I supposed, and it was piled thicker against one wall, reminding me of a nest. There were a few chairs that served as the only real furniture I could see, set randomly about the one-roomed structure. Zafir seemed to be bound to the sturdiest of the lot.
“What do you want with us?” I spun to face the man who’d pushed and prodded me along, forcing me through the back alley exit of the tavern. Outside, another man had been waiting for us, and together, the two of them had dragged me into an awaiting horse-drawn cart, where Zafir had already been bound. Like Zafir, I’d been shoved to the cart’s floor, forced to keep my head low as we bounced along a potholed road out of town.
Or I assumed that was where we were . . . out of town. Because when I was finally allowed to rise again, there was no train depot or tavern—no buildings at all, in fact—in sight. The ground, which had started out pitted and uneven, had grown nearly perilous over the course of our journey, as we’d climbed higher into the hills. If I’d thought the train had been jarring, it had been nothing compared to the jolting ride in the wagon. My teeth had banged together, causing stars to burst behind my eyes on more than one occasion, and I was still picking straw off my cloak and out of my hair.
Zafir had been gagged the entire time, but I’d asked the same question over and over again, “What do you want from us?” Only to be answered with a curt “Hush now. Be still.”
Now, standing within the fetid walls of the cottage, the black-eyed man finally answered me, his lips parting to reveal teeth that were rotted by decay. “I apologize, but it had to be that way, Your Majesty. We had’ta get you outta there without anyone knowing it.”
I took a step backward, staggered by the fact that these men already knew who I was, that I hadn’t simply been the casualty of highway robbery.
I was here because of who I was. As was Zafir.
“Wh-wh—” I tried, but my voice seemed to catch in my throat.
“Wh-wh—” The man mimicked, but beneath the short ceiling, his hunched frame seemed somehow smaller . . . more frail than intimidating. His mouth widened into something that was doubtless meant to be a grin, and his brown teeth glistened. He waved his hand dismissively. “Please, let me explain,” he said in his strange accent. It was Englaise, but from him, it came out sounding warped. His e’s were too long and his a’s were too soft, making his sentence sound like “Leet me eexplan.” He eyed Zafir suspiciously. “And then I’ll let your man there go.”
“What are you doing? You can’t ride him like that!” Sebastian berated her, running his hand along the horse’s coat and swiping away layers of thick, frothy sweat.
“Where’s Charlie?” Brook demanded, ignoring the stable
master’s concerns for the animal. When she saw Aron, she repeated herself, calling out to him above the heads of the others, not caring that she should be asking after Queen Di Heyse now, rather than her childhood friend. “Where’s Charlie?”
Aron looked frazzled as he threw his arms in the air. “I don’t know. I’ve searched everywhere, but I wasn’t here when the train started moving.” He ran one hand through his already rumpled hair. “I haven’t seen her. I have no idea if she was on the train when it pulled away.”
Brook turned to her men then, her voice loud and commanding. “Was anyone here? Did any of you see your queen?”
Heads shook, and among the buzz of voices the consensus seemed to be that no one knew what had happened to her. No one had seen where Charlie had gone.
Brook paced, her shoulders rigid and her boots pounding angrily against the rough-hewn timbers that served as sidewalks. Her hair whipped wildly around her face as she muttered to herself. When Aron tried to interject, tried to ask her what she meant to do, she raised her hand, effectively silencing him.
After a moment, she stopped marching and lifted her chin. “We’ll take an hour,” she shouted, loud enough to be heard by everyone. “One hour. Break into parties of three and search everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Homes, businesses, schools, and brothels. I don’t care, if it has walls, search it. In one hour we’ll meet back here and regroup.” She turned to Sebastian. “You take care of the horses.” At Sebastian’s gaping expression, she added, her expression softening, “You can have five men, but that’s all I’ll spare.” She stepped closer so her soldiers couldn’t hear. “Get them ready for travel, Sebastian. Find grain and water, whatever we need. If we don’t find Charlie in the next hour, we’re heading north.”
xi
Zafir looked downright homicidal. He looked like he wanted to wrap his hands around the throat of the man who’d just pushed me through the undersized doorway and throttle him.
Or maybe he would’ve preferred the use of weapons. To make it a slow and torturous death.
But he was in no position for fighting of any kind. He’d been gagged and restrained, both by ropes and chains. A wise choice on the part of our captors, since surely rope alone wouldn’t have held the royal guard.
His eyes blazed with deadly determination as they alit on me, and I could practically read his thoughts: I will get you out of this.
I believed him, of course. I’d wager my money on Zafir any day.
I glanced around, taking in our modest surroundings. The cottage was more of a hovel really, built from stacked stones, of course, and sealed with some sort of black ooze that looked—and smelled—like it might have been made from manure. The ceiling was too short, even for me, as was the door, lending the place a confining feel. Filthy straw covered the dirt floor, serving as mats, I supposed, and it was piled thicker against one wall, reminding me of a nest. There were a few chairs that served as the only real furniture I could see, set randomly about the one-roomed structure. Zafir seemed to be bound to the sturdiest of the lot.
“What do you want with us?” I spun to face the man who’d pushed and prodded me along, forcing me through the back alley exit of the tavern. Outside, another man had been waiting for us, and together, the two of them had dragged me into an awaiting horse-drawn cart, where Zafir had already been bound. Like Zafir, I’d been shoved to the cart’s floor, forced to keep my head low as we bounced along a potholed road out of town.
Or I assumed that was where we were . . . out of town. Because when I was finally allowed to rise again, there was no train depot or tavern—no buildings at all, in fact—in sight. The ground, which had started out pitted and uneven, had grown nearly perilous over the course of our journey, as we’d climbed higher into the hills. If I’d thought the train had been jarring, it had been nothing compared to the jolting ride in the wagon. My teeth had banged together, causing stars to burst behind my eyes on more than one occasion, and I was still picking straw off my cloak and out of my hair.
Zafir had been gagged the entire time, but I’d asked the same question over and over again, “What do you want from us?” Only to be answered with a curt “Hush now. Be still.”
Now, standing within the fetid walls of the cottage, the black-eyed man finally answered me, his lips parting to reveal teeth that were rotted by decay. “I apologize, but it had to be that way, Your Majesty. We had’ta get you outta there without anyone knowing it.”
I took a step backward, staggered by the fact that these men already knew who I was, that I hadn’t simply been the casualty of highway robbery.
I was here because of who I was. As was Zafir.
“Wh-wh—” I tried, but my voice seemed to catch in my throat.
“Wh-wh—” The man mimicked, but beneath the short ceiling, his hunched frame seemed somehow smaller . . . more frail than intimidating. His mouth widened into something that was doubtless meant to be a grin, and his brown teeth glistened. He waved his hand dismissively. “Please, let me explain,” he said in his strange accent. It was Englaise, but from him, it came out sounding warped. His e’s were too long and his a’s were too soft, making his sentence sound like “Leet me eexplan.” He eyed Zafir suspiciously. “And then I’ll let your man there go.”
