Page 20

Chapter

Eleven

TESSA

I hide in the shadow of the temple, waiting for the two guards to saunter past me.

I’m not doing anything untoward, but guards are suspicious of anyone lurking around at this time of night.

Clover noses the side of my head, her warm breath blowing over my skin.

I scratch her beneath the chin, hoping she won’t give us away by snorting when I don’t give in to her demand for more carrots.

I already gave her one when I woke her in the darkest hour before dawn.

She seemed a little grumpy when I saddled her, so a bribe was in order.

The guards disappear around the corner, and I slowly lead my mare from our hiding place.

I congratulate myself on the foresight to bind her hooves with thick cloth to muffle her footsteps.

If I hadn’t, the clatter of her hooves would’ve woken half the neighborhood, and especially the Matron in the temple.

She’s a light sleeper, and I don’t have time to explain why I’m escaping the city.

But I didn’t want to leave without making sure she and the children were taken care of.

The duke provides for them, but barely, and only the gods know what could happen while I’m gone.

I don’t know when I’ll return. It might take me weeks, or even months, to find Lindie, and I don’t want the children to go without, especially with winter approaching.

I near the temple steps, right where the orc sat a couple of days ago, hidden under his cloak. I hope he made it out of his restraints. I left him the dagger I plucked from his belt, but perhaps he was too dazed from the blow to his head to find it.

No, he was all right.

All sharp wit and calculating smiles, that one.

A gust of wind whips through the street, splashing drizzle across my face.

I take it as a sign from the gods to stop dallying, so I shove down any thoughts of the warrior and the guilt that comes with them.

I creep forward, listening for any sounds from within the temple.

The Matron is an early riser, but hopefully she’s still at her morning prayers.

Clover nickers impatiently from the bottom of the steps, so I hurry forward, lift the flap of the donations box built into the temple door, and drop the full purse through the gap.

It’s the money I stole from Damen. Now that my hand is already healing, thanks to the orc’s charmed ointment, I won’t need it to hire a healer.

Besides, the gold I stole from the handsome stranger is safely tucked in my saddlebags.

I don’t need this much money—and the orphanage does.

There’s always another mouth to feed or another leak in the roof to fix.

The Matron will use the money well and won’t ask where the donation came from, either.

With my last errand done, I mount Clover and turn her toward the Eastern Gate. The fifth bell rang while I was walking from the stables, so I won’t have to wait long for the gates to open. The sky is still dark because of the dense cloud cover, but dawn is near, and I need to be on my way.

I’m so tired I could fall asleep right on Clover’s back, worn out from the climbing and the terror I experienced tonight.

But I want to leave the city far behind before I allow myself to rest. I’ll blend in with the morning rush of people leaving for the fields and ride for a couple of hours, then find a secluded spot to sleep for a while and let Clover graze.

I might have a long trip ahead, and it won’t do any good to run my horse into the ground on the first day.

The stranger told me the Ravens were sending their caravans through the Eastern Gate, so I’ll start my search there.

He also said his colleagues had been attacked by Damen’s guards, but surely those mercenaries would be traveling with the caravan.

Since Lindie has been gone for days, I might be able to bribe someone along the road to tell me where the wagons went.

Once I’ve cleared the city walls and put some distance between myself and Ultrup, I’ll study the pages from Damen’s ledger.

I took a quick glance at them when I returned to Etta’s to grab my things and saw I was right.

He did use code, or at least shorthand, in the notes.

I might be able to crack it, but not while fleeing for my life.

I swallow hard, fear rising in me at the thought of traveling into the unknown.

I’ve been to many other towns, but never east, in the direction of the Stonefrost Clan lands.

They’ve waged war with all their neighbors for decades, though there hasn’t been news from that corner of the continent in months, maybe years.

I don’t know if Lindie is there, but if she is, I’ll find her somehow.

I ought to buy a map or a traveler’s companion from my favorite bookshop in Ultrup, but I don’t dare wait any longer.

It’s a miracle I haven’t been stopped by Damen’s men or the city watch yet.

I took a great risk coming so close to the Ravens’ mansion by visiting the temple, but I couldn’t leave the city without it.

I choose the back alleys instead of the main streets and take a detour to avoid passing the barracks, where the soldiers are waking for their daily drills. The closer I get to the Eastern Gate, the more people I meet, most bleary-eyed and yawning, barely awake but already heading to work.

Gods, I should be one of them. I should have found regular work, like the Matron wanted for me.

Then I’d wake in the morning, do honest business as a tavern maid or a seamstress, and return home each evening knowing I was safe.

I wouldn’t be escaping the city alone, terrified of being discovered after robbing a gang’s headquarters overnight.

But it’s too late for that. Wishing for things won’t make them come true, and it’s my fault I’m in this situation, after all.

So I grit my teeth and stare straight ahead, avoiding the sight of a couple kissing sweetly on the doorstep of their home.

I definitely don’t watch as the man hugs the woman tightly, then musses their child’s hair before joining the crowd moving toward the outer city walls.

Unbidden, the image of the orc slips into my mind. He watched me so intently when I tended to his wound. He promised to behave, and he did. I shouldn’t have trusted him; he was a stranger who had chased after me. But for some godsforsaken reason, I had.

Maybe it was his pretty face that convinced me. Or that one genuine smile he gave me. It was so different from the practiced smirks he handed out when he thought he could charm me with ease.

He seemed determined to catch me, and he would have, if I hadn’t brained him with that piece of wood. Hopefully, he’ll think twice about chasing me now.

The thought should bring relief, but all I feel is a strange sort of regret.

Nothing good comes from daydreaming about what might have been. I can’t afford to get distracted. That’s how people get killed. And I’ve already tempted the Fates enough for one day, if not a lifetime.

Instead, I focus on the looming wall ahead and the wide double doors swinging open. The rattle of the chains is familiar and strangely soothing, as is the murmured conversation of the day laborers around me.

I’ve made it. The portcullis rises enough to let both pedestrians and riders through, and the guard at the gatehouse waves the first few forward, idly scanning their faces.

When it’s my turn, I nod to him, and he touches the brim of his helmet in greeting before turning his gaze to the people behind me.

I glance back one last time. A strange sense of loss washes over me.

I might never return. If the Ravens discover who robbed them, Ultrup might never be safe for me again.

With effort, I turn back around and nudge Clover’s flanks lightly with my heels, guiding her through the gate at an easy clip to warm her up.

There’s no use crying, but my cheeks are damp anyway as I ride past the outer city, the wooden structures crowded along the walls, home to hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people who came here searching for a better life.

I wish I could tell them they’re looking in the wrong place. I thought I’d find happiness here, too—or at least honest work—when I first arrived. Now I’m fleeing the city with my tail tucked between my legs, just as alone as I was back then.

Gritting my teeth, I steer Clover around a group of laborers heading out to one of the many fields or workshops that surround Ultrup, then send her into a trot. The days are growing shorter, with winter just around the corner, and I have a lot of ground to cover.

My belly pangs with regret, but I don’t look back.