Page 31 of Maneater

Today, I would be leaving Brier Len.

I woke in the bed I had grown up in, wanting to spend my last few moments checking in on my mother and father, no matter the complicated feelings I had for them. They deserved that much.

Last night, my mother had been at the neighbor’s again, not returning until the early chimes of the morning.

Now she slept peacefully, her small frame tucked under the blankets I had draped over her.

My father was still slouched in his chair, snoring loudly.

I couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t looked like that.

I glanced around the cottage, knowing it would soon no longer be the place I called home. In the kitchen, I tidied up the food I had brought back from the inn. Would my mother remember to eat?

A part of me struggled with the constant worry, with the care I still felt for her. But another voice reminded me that I was almost nineteen, of marrying age, and there was no reason I should be the one holding everything together. My father should never have sunk so low.

Maybe, if my mother had been happy, we could have been different. Something whole .

But I am who I am because of everything that has happened.

It’s not as though my story is unique. The lives we lead as skirtsfolk are a far cry from those of cityfolk, but within our own, it seems we all end up the same.

Caz was the chance for a future I never thought possible.

I would see more of the world than I had ever dreamed, build a family of my own, one filled with love, laughter, and joy.

I would finally nurture that part of me that still held hope for something better.

I would work harder than I ever had to earn a place at the Academy, to become someone others respected.

My life would be mine, shaped by my actions and my choices.

I just needed to leave. To get away from Brier Len.

In the rucksack slung over my back, I packed everything I owned that was of any use.

Two pairs of trousers and tunics, a simple dress, and the tin of coppers I had saved from my time at the inn.

Sentiment wasn’t something I carried with me, and I didn’t feel the need to take anything that tied me to this place.

I packed only what was necessary, the things I could use as I started fresh.

As I thought about leaving, a sadness pressed against my heart. But there was a stronger feeling that rose above it. There was a pull in my chest, telling me I was making the right decision.

Yesterday, Caz and I talked about our plan before we set off. I would say goodbye to my parents, tell Griffin, then we would be on our way. He asked if I needed him there with me, to help me through telling them I was leaving, but I knew I couldn’t do it with him there.

I started with my mother last night, telling her I would be gone by morning, that I wouldn’t be returning.

But as I spoke, her mind seemed to drift elsewhere, to that place where she couldn’t hold onto anything beyond a few scattered thoughts.

She appeared to be present, but the glassy look in her eyes told me she wouldn’t remember by morning.

Still, I stayed with her, lying beside her until her breathing steadied and she fell asleep.

I wish I could say my father offered me even a fraction of what my mother did, but that wouldn’t be the truth. I didn’t expect much from him anyway. With an exhale, I approached my mother one last time, brushed a kiss to her temple, and whispered a few words that filled me with a new wave of guilt.

It was then I wondered when, or if, the guilt would ease. But above everything, I knew I was making this choice for myself. The thought of Caz’s smile was the only thing that pulled me away from her, guiding my steps toward the front doors.

My walk to the inn was slow, weighed down with a familiar guilt.

I hadn’t figured out the right way to tell Griffin, especially since my decision to follow Caz had only come to me the day before, sparked by the thought that I might never see him again.

There hadn’t been much time to prepare, but deep down, I knew that no matter how much time I had, Griffin wouldn’t take my leaving well.

I imagined he thought I would be working at the Greenwood for the rest of my life, right up until his last day.

Still, the guilt gnawed at me. My relationship with the innkeeper was hard to define.

It had started out bluntly, but over time, it softened.

Griffin was something of a father figure in my life, though I wasn’t sure if “father” was the right word.

He drank heavily, often to the point of passing out, and spent most of his earnings from the inn at the gambling house a few chimes away.

In that regard, he was much like my real father.

But in other ways, he had fed me when I was hungry, kept me warm when I was cold, and never laid a hand on me in anger or neglect.

He checked on me if I was late or seemed troubled.

And despite all his flaws, he always paid me what I was promised.

It was these things that made the thought of telling him I was leaving so much harder.

When I finally reached the inn, I fell into my usual routine, preparing the dining room and getting breakfast ready.

There was no need to tend to the stables, since Bellona was the only mare there and we would be leaving soon.

I helped a few guests settle into their rooms and brought them bowls of porridge.

Once everything was taken care of, I let out a shaky breath. I prayed that Griffin was upstairs in his room. I adjusted my apron and smoothed out the wrinkles in the fabric. Gathering what little courage I had left, I made my way up the stairs, each step creaking beneath me.

At the top, I pressed my ear to the door, hoping to hear Griff’s familiar snoring or some sign of movement, but it was silent. I knocked lightly at first, then louder the second time, but no answer came. I grabbed the latch and pushed the door open.

The room was dark, with a faint, unpleasant smell hanging in the air.

I drew back the curtain, and the soft glow of the sunrise began to seep in.

I glanced at the bed. The blankets were tangled and askew, but Griffin was nowhere to be seen.

If I had to guess, he had passed out at the gambling house and wouldn’t be back for chimes.

I sighed, a wave of frustration washing over me.

As much as I dreaded telling Griffin I was leaving, a part of me still wanted to see him one last time.

To thank him for everything. But it seemed that wouldn’t be possible.

Caz had insisted we leave no later than a chime after sunrise to begin the long journey to the Academy.

The city, whose name I couldn’t recall, was days away, even by horsefoot.

I pushed aside thoughts of how Griffin might feel, knowing the last time he would see me had already passed. Instead, I focused on the fluttering in my chest, the same feeling that always came when I thought of Caz.

A soft smile tugged at my lips as a blush crept across my cheeks. In that moment, I knew what I had told Caz yesterday was true: I would follow him anywhere.

I looked around Griffin’s room once more, feeling as though there was one last thing I could do to show him I had tried to say goodbye.

I cracked the window open just enough to let in the gentle morning breeze, clearing the heavy air.

Then I smoothed out his bedsheets and arranged his pillows neatly.

The empty bottles scattered across the floor were gathered and placed by the door to be discarded.

By the time I was done, the room felt warm. Almost inviting. So different from how it had been before. I hoped that, once the initial anger of my leaving passed, Griffin would understand that I truly cared for him.

Once back in the kitchen, I removed my apron and folded it neatly, setting it on the counter.

I gathered my rucksack and the two bundles of food I had packed after preparing breakfast. I knew Caz would be waiting for me.

Knowing him, he had probably been up for a chime or more, making sure everything was set for our long journey.

That was just how he was. Always meticulous, never leaving anything to chance.

It was the scholar in him, that drive to perfect every detail, no matter how small or insignificant.

I made my way down the hallway and quickly reached the door to Caz’s room. I swung it open with a smile, eager to jump into his arms and shower him with kisses.

But when I entered, the room was empty. Everything was neatly arranged and free of any of his belongings, except for a pouch of coppers resting on the nightstand.

He must have forgotten it. The emptiness didn’t surprise me.

Caz never carried much, always traveling light with just a few cloaks and sets of clothes.

The only other things he kept with him were his equipment and books, so it seemed he had already taken them to Bellona to pack up.

I grabbed the coin pouch and hurried to the stables, hoping Caz would only scold me lightly for being so late after sunrise.

As soon as I stepped inside, I frowned. I expected to find Bellona by the watering trough, but she wasn’t there.

I quickly checked the back, where she sometimes wandered off to graze in the field that led into the woods.

My eyes landed on the empty field, and a sudden weight pressed down on my chest. I took a deep breath, refusing to let the feeling grow into something worse .

“Caz?” I called as I made my way back to the stables.

They stood just as empty as before, and my breathing grew quicker, more shallow.

I retraced my steps to the inn, walking down the hallway again, calling his name as I checked his room.

I even looked in the other private room, though I knew it would be empty.

With every step, my breathing became more uneven.

I shook my head and forced myself to focus.

I bolted down the hallway, the coin pouch slipping from my hands as I spotted the first guest I could find. Almost frantic, I asked, “Sir, have you seen a young man with brown hair and green eyes, wearing a blue cloak?”

The man shook his head, looking at me with confusion, but I ignored it and ran straight to the stables, calling for Bellona again.

Outside, as I rounded the corner of the inn, I spotted another patron puffing on his pipe, leaning casually against the wall.

I hurried to him, making him jump as I nearly yelled, asking if he had seen a young man in a blue cloak leave with a horse that morning.

He scowled at me, much like the first man, and said he hadn’t seen anyone matching Caz’s description.

This time, I shook my head and whispered, “No,” as I stepped away from him. My cheeks were damp with tears as I rushed back into the inn, the denial pushing me toward Caz’s room.

“Caz!” I called again, my voice strained and thin. “Where are you?”

I rushed past another patron, barely noticing the glare I received as I passed in a blur. I burst into Caz’s room once more, calling his name with desperation. The sinking feeling in my chest had grown heavier, dragging me deeper with every breath.

It was as though the air itself had turned to lead.

I rushed toward the bed, lifting the blankets and shaking them out as if Caz might suddenly appear from beneath them. A small whimper escaped my lips, a sound I hadn’t known I could make, and I slowly backed away. My arms wrapped around my body as I shook my head in disbelief.

Deep down, I had known Caz had left without me the moment I saw the empty stables and Bellona was gone. But my heart hadn’t wanted to accept it. Not until I had searched again and again, looking for him in every shadow, could I no longer deny it.

Before I knew it, a soft sob escaped, each one shaking with hurt and confusion. How was this happening? What had caused it?

I sank to my knees, then leaned back, drawing them close to my chest.

“Cazimir?” I whispered, my voice fragile in the silence of the room.

Tears began to fall, hot and fast. I couldn’t accept it. There was no world where Caz would leave me behind.

My sweet, gentle, smiling Caz. He wouldn’t walk away from me.

But he did , my mind said.

I cried then, harder than I ever thought I could.

The weight of the hurt was unlike anything I had ever known, and with it came a flood of doubt, making me question whether what we shared was real or if it had all been a fantasy of my own.

The pain turned inward, twisting and unraveling my sense of self.

My thoughts shifted from why did Caz leave me to why would he ever stay?

I was just a fleeting moment in the grand story of his scholarhood.

To Caz, I was nothing. But to me, he was everything.

In the depths of my sadness, I turned my face and rested my cheek against my knees.

That was when something caught my eye. A package was tucked beneath the bed, as though it had fallen there or been forgotten.

Slowly, I crawled over to it. It was wrapped in thick cloth and bound tightly with ribbon.

I turned it over, expecting to find something belonging to Caz, but it didn’t resemble anything I had ever seen him carry.

I frowned, my eyes swollen and sore, and tugged at one of the strings. It came apart easily, and I began to unwrap the cloth. As I did, a folded piece of parchment slipped out. I picked it up and opened it, immediately recognizing Caz’s neat handwriting.

My heart stilled.

It read: For Odessa. A tale of a love that changes the course of history.

The book was beautifully bound, its title inscribed in gold ink, and the pages crisp and untouched. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything. I didn’t know how many times I had read Caz’s note. It was as if I had turned to stone.

Gradually, feeling crept back into my limbs, and I stood, my face was a mask of emptiness. I stepped out of Caz’s room without a word. I must have passed a patron or two, but I didn’t register them. I walked through the inn in a trance, unable to hear or see anything clearly.

Somehow, I found myself once again in my home, standing before the hearth. Caz’s book was still clutched in my hands.

Without a second thought, I hurled it into the blazing fire. At once, it was swallowed by the flames. I watched it burn, devouring the pages until nothing remained but ash.