Page 37 of Maneater

When I woke, Meric was gone.

The first thing I did was reach for my satchel. My hands darted beneath my cloak, and I let out a breath of relief. Everything was still there.

I glanced out the window, seeing the sun hadn’t risen yet. Frowning, I slipped out of bed, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my pocketknife. Where had he gone? Had he already left?

I wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe Meric had woken in a haze of embarrassment, realizing he had passed out before anything happened between us. I just hoped I’d wake in time to convince him otherwise, or at least persuade him to still take me to Yserath.

I moved quickly, gathering my things before slipping out the door. I’d been careful enough last night to leave the room key near Meric, close enough that it could’ve easily fallen from his pocket. That way, he couldn’t claim I’d taken anything from him.

Maybe it was the life I’d lived, or maybe it was just how I was wired, but I was trained to expect the worst. Pessimism didn’t just follow me, it lived in me. And most of the time, it had served me better than hope ever had.

If he was planning to fool me, I’d make sure I got there first.

The first voice I heard from downstairs was Meric’s.

It was loud and boisterous. So, he’s still here , I thought.

Then came another man’s voice, possibly the bartender’s, though I couldn’t quite make it out from upstairs.

Only one of them, it seemed, was bothering to keep quiet for the sake of the other guests.

I was halfway through adjusting my cloak, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress, when I suddenly stilled.

A woman’s voice drifted up from below.

“I’ve been searching for her all night,” she said. “Thank you for helping me find her.”

My blood went cold, and a slow, steady fury rose in its place.

I needed to leave. Now. There was no way out without passing the stairs. No clear exit through the front or back without being seen.

I flicked open my pocketknife and gripped it tight beneath my sleeve. My vision blurred, spots edging into my sight, and the colors around me started fading to gray. I forced myself to stay calm.

No one was taking this from me. Not now. I’d chosen freedom the day I ran, and I would keep choosing it, no matter what. I’d kill if I had to.

I stepped out of the stairwell, and there she was.

Leya stood there like a phantom born from my darkest nightmare.

“Odessa!” she cried. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Leya’s usual radiance was dulled, like the light had been drained from her. It looked like she’d been crying for chimes. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes rumpled and worn. My body went rigid as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me.

My instinct flared, hand pulling back, blade ready to sink into Leya’s chest. Then, just quiet enough for me to hear, she whispered, “I ran. Just like you.”

My hand went numb at her words.

What did she mean by “ran” like me? Was she actually saying she ran from Gadriel?

I must’ve heard that wrong. If I heard right, then Leya was every bit as reckless as she was witless.

The whole plan hinged on her staying with Gadriel, on me vanishing without a trace, never to set foot on Hyrallean soil again.

And yet, here she was. Clinging to me like her life depended on it, arms locked around me in an iron grip. Like she was scared I’d vanish if she let go.

“What are you doing here?” I shoved her back. My eyes locked onto hers as my heart pounded like a war drum in my chest. “Does he know?” My eyes swept the inn, searching for any sign of Gadriel.

“Odessa, please,” Leya started, her voice trembling, “I had to follow you. There’s?—”

“What did you do?” My fury flared, sharp and blinding, hotter than steel in a forge. I was reeling. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“Odessa,” she repeated. “Let me?—”

“I don’t care,” I hissed. “Keep your voice down and don’t say another word.”

A quiet hostility hung in the room, rising fast. I doubted anyone nearby saw it for what it was. Onlookers might’ve thought it looked like nothing more than a disagreement between two women.

“Eva—ah,” the bard’s voice sliced through the tension between us. “Odessa, then? It’s no matter. I’ve encountered plenty of women like yourself, and many prefer to use different names. I understand the need for discretion.”

I turned my attention sharply towards him. “How long has she been here?”

Meric seemed unsettled by the edge in my voice. “She came by the inn, asking after someone that sounded a lot like you. Naturally, I offered my help.”

Leya flinched at my tone. “Odessa, please. If you would just listen?—”

“How long, Leya?” I snapped, facing her again. My voice rose with disbelief. “You said you’d been looking for me all night. So when exactly did you run? He’ll be looking for us by now.”

“Ladies,” the bartender chimed in. “Let’s not stir the whole place this early in the morning. Perhaps a drink for both of you to help calm your nerves?”

I didn’t spare him a glance when I grabbed Leya’s wrist, holding it tightly. “Is this some twisted game? Are you with him? Is he waiting outside? Did you lead him here?” My voice trembled with anger. “You betrayed me.”

“No!” Leya’s voice cracked. “No, that’s not true! I haven’t told him anything, I swear! I ran because you did. I didn’t understand why back then, but I do now. I do!”

The bartender sighed loudly. “If this is some spat over your contract holders, there’s no need to hash it out here. This is Rook’s End, nothing that can’t be smoothed over with a little ale.” He motioned to us with a nod. “Come, have a seat.”

Meric chuckled. “Well, I’ll admit, your ale certainly got in the way of something.

” He slid onto a barstool, completely at ease.

“I’m a bit ashamed of last night, Eva—uh, Odessa.

I’m still heading out to Yserath at sunrise.

Join me for a drink? Bring your friend along if you like.

Sigrid and I would welcome the company.”

The bartender had already poured three mugs and slid them across the counter, nodding toward us. “Barrel’s new. Just tapped it. ”

My head was pounding, my vision splintered with flashes of black and white.

That cynical voice inside me had warned that something like this was bound to happen.

It turned its focus to Meric and the bartender, sensing the odd calmness in the air.

Everything about them was wrong, too controlled, too easy.

Leya, by comparison, looked completely adrift.

My instincts were sharp, and I could feel it in my bones.

Gadriel knew.

They knew.

And we were in grave danger.

I breathed to Leya, “Run.”

Before I could hesitate, I grabbed her arm and sprinted for the backdoor. She stumbled, tripping over the hem of her dress, but obeyed my command.

“Stop them!” the bartender shouted. “Don’t let them leave!”

I didn’t look back. I could feel Meric’s footsteps pounding behind us, the bartender just seconds behind him.

I wouldn’t risk a glance, wouldn’t risk slowing down.

My blood roared in my ears, adrenaline pushing me forward.

The backdoor was shut tight and I knew better than to try the latch.

I threw my weight into it, shoulder-first, driven by desperation.

Wood cracked and gave way under the impact as we burst through.

The night sky hadn’t fully lifted, but the horizon was softening. Sunrise was near.

I made for the stables, a silent plea in my chest: let Sigrid be there. I’d only ridden Bellona for a summer, but I remembered the strength in her gait, the calm in her eyes. Riding Sigrid would be no different. I forced myself to believe it.

As I turned the corner, a lantern cast light on a young stable hand, no older than fourteen, shoveling the floor. My gut clenched. Another witness. Another risk. Frustration flickered in my chest. We needed fewer eyes, not more.

Four horses waited in the stable. Relief hit hard when Sigrid was among them.

I pushed past the stable hand, Leya still clinging to my arm, breathing hard but whole.

My hands flew to the stall’s wall, fumbling for the rope rung.

I unfastened it as quickly as I could. The rope dropped, and I threw myself onto Sigrid’s back.

Whatever reassurance I gave her last night must’ve lingered.

The mare was jumpy, but she was more startled than scared, and she let me mount without a fight.

“You there, stop them!” Meric shouted at the stable hand. “They’re fugitives! Wanted by the Crown!”

“A royal bounty is on both their heads!” the bartender shouted, his voice rising just above Meric’s.

“Get on!” I shouted, reaching for Leya. “We have to go. Now!”

Her eyes were wild, scared and lost, but she didn’t hesitate. She gripped my hand and I pulled her up behind me.

“Hold my waist,” I told her, voice hard. “If you let go, you fall. And I won’t turn back for you.”

I dug my heels in and Sigrid reared, letting out a sharp whinny, then launched forward as the first light of dawn spilled over us.

We tore out of the stables, thundering past Meric and the bartender.

Our hooves pounded the cobblestones, their sound quickly swallowed by a city that had just begun to wake.