Page 30 of Aubade Rising
“We can’t stay in my family townhouse. It will be the first place they will look when we don’t show up to dinner,” Eskar explains as we climb the stairs, my bag banging my shins as I heave it up with me.
“Someone at Chi An Mor told the Governor we were coming. And that is not a good thing. No one should even know we are here.” He tugs hard at the wind-tangled strands of his hair.
“We’ll stay here tonight and leave first thing tomorrow morning. ”
At the top of the stairs, I open a second door to find a cosy, bookcase-filled front room, dusty from lack of use.
“I need to keep you safe. Nobody knows I own this place. If the traitor is part of the Concord, then they will be relying on their connections here. Staying here tonight means they can’t find us.”
“Part of the Concord?” My throat catches and my back stiffens. I’m alarmed one of the most powerful people in Trevesiga could be working to destabilise the court right under the King’s nose.
“We’re not ruling anything out at the moment.” He walks around the open-plan apartment, pulling back curtains and adjusting shutters to let in what little light remains.
“Who’s we?” I’m on edge; it occurs to me perhaps I’ve trusted the wrong person. None of my friends or family back in Pentargon will know where I am either. If something happens to me, Eskar is my sole connection. Panic rises and sweat collects on the back of my neck.
“None of your business.” He’s rooting through the cupboards, assessing their contents.
I edge back towards the staircase. “Well, it is my business if I’m going to trust you here.
Who’s to say you’re not the traitor?” If I make a run for it now, I’d have my rucksack and very little money.
I don’t even know how much the passage back to Pentargon will cost, let alone food on top.
What if I’m not safe there either? I have nowhere to go, nowhere to stay.
Turning round and seeing me scared and flustered he rolls his eyes. “If I am the traitor, then I’m not being a good one. I would have let you get kidnapped at the King’s address.”
I release a long breath and try to regulate my breathing; instead of letting me get kidnapped, he murdered one of my attackers.
My panic subsides but my chest aches with pressure.
I’ve been in denial about the precariousness of my situation, fully dependent on the benevolence of the King.
A man I angered as I left. Everything I own currently has been given to me as a result of my position on the Concord.
This new position and the home that comes with it is temporary while I complete my research and the thought of losing another position shakes me.
I can’t go through that again. As soon as I get home and solve this mess, I’m moving out of the palace and setting myself up independently.
Interrupting my train of thought, Eskar announces he’s going out to get us some food.
“While I’m gone, there’s a cupboard through there – go and change your hair ready for tomorrow.” He gestures to what I presume is one of the bedrooms.
“Cut it, colour it, I don’t care, just change it. Do something so if anyone is looking for us then they won’t immediately spot us in a crowd.” The implication of a repeat of the attack in Pentargon is a stark reminder of how serious the threat is against me.
“After that, leave everything you can here. We’re travelling much lighter from now on.”
I resign myself to an unpleasant evening. My hair is one of the features I’m quite attached to. I can hide behind the long, light gold strands like a curtain and the heavy weight of a ponytail grounds me when I’m working.
“Trust me, Sage. This is my job.” He’s right, when he’s not being forced to torture suspected rebels, he’s a captain in the king’s guard. He leaves with a wink and an attempt at a reassuring smile.
I venture into the cupboard like he said, trying desperately not to notice the personal details in the room: a painting above the bed of a shaded woodland glen, the books beside it – all fiction, even the clothes spilling from the wardrobe.
The cupboard is a treasure trove of disguises, rows of hats, glasses and other accoutrements. I wonder how much use he’s actually made of any of these things and why he might feel he needs to hide in his hometown.
I select a small brick of dark dye and grab a pair of shears.
After some time, my new inky black hair swings above my shoulders.
Satisfied with the unfamiliar light breeze across the bottom of my neck, it feels pleasant to shake my new style back and forward, letting the shorter strands graze my skin as they pass.
Looking in the mirror, I don’t recognise myself.
My stomach grumbles waiting for Eskar to return and the cupboards are bare so I turn to the book from Haelyn.
It’s a slow read but I’m finally rewarded by a chapter on Aubades.
I jump ahead to that section, doubting I’ll want to carry the whole book through the Haag: hopefully, Haelyn will forgive me.
The book details how Aubades used to fall into two categories. Some people could focus their magic into a thin beam that burns and others could build some sort of reflective shield that others’ magic couldn’t penetrate: both incredibly useful and powerful attitudes that have been lost to time.