Page 5 of The Unbound Witch

He was gone.

“See that wagon over there?” Kirsi’s hushed voice startled me.

Swallowing my gasp, I nodded, eyeing the overflowing cart, loaded with an entire home full of items. Rocking chairs stacked on top of trunks, pots and pans dangling from the thick, coarse rope tying it all down.

“There’s a black trunk in the back, close to the edge. It’s got women’s clothing packed within.”

“How do you—”

“Don’t ask. I’ll keep watch, just be quick about it. This town gives me the creeps, and I’m already dead.”

I couldn’t force a smile at her words as I moved, attempting to make it seem like the items on the wagon were my own. In one motion, I unlatched the chest, swiped the plain black dress on top, closed it and walked away with my chin high, aiming straight for the alley between the buildings again.

“Kir?” I hated that I couldn’t see her.

“Present,” she answered. “I’ll watch the other end, but hurry.”

She spoke to me as kindly as she had to Shayva Stormridge, a witch who had pestered us for a fertility spell for years. I shrugged off her tone, removing the ripped clothing, stepping quickly into the black dress.

As I fastened the final button, Kirsi hissed in my ear. “Incoming.”

Those same hard eyes from before peered at me from around the corner. The Seeker, he’d been called. Unsure what to do with the clothes I’d been wearing, I grabbed them from the ground, heart racing, as he moved with the strides of a shifter toward me.

“The regime is always open to those who need penance,” he said, his voice thick with condemnation.

I was certain he’d somehow seen me steal the cotton dress, baring myself in a narrow alley to change. I opened my mouth to speak, not knowing what I would say, when Grey rounded the opposite end of the gap.

“There you are, my love. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

3

RAVEN

Ibacked away from the man, looking for safety beside Bastian’s cousin as he took my hand, eyes flicking to the Seeker at the other end of the tight alley. That basic contact, the single brush of his thumb across the back of my hand, lit my skin on fire. I hadn’t known how badly I needed to feel something besides pain. But even then, it was short lived as Grey tugged me toward him, dipped his chin to the mysterious man, and directed me out of the alley.

“That’s a dangerous person for a witch,” he warned. “They don’t know about real magic here. They only know tales, and the humans of the regime don’t like witches. They find anything out of order with their neighbors, claim they are witches, and condemn them accordingly. He’d see you dead, burned at the stake or drawn and quartered, before he helped you.”

“He came out of nowhere,” I explained, the ball of shredded clothes still tucked under my arm.

Grey kept his pace quick, his long strides forcing me into a painful, light jog. Though he was definitely the largest man around, at least his simple slacks and black collared shirt fit right in. “I’ve found us a place to stay. It’s not much.”

“We cannot stay here,” Kirsi hissed from Grey’s other side. “This town isn’t safe.”

“We don’t have a choice. It’s too dark to travel in unknown territory at night, and we’re going to have to eat eventually.”

My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. I ignored it, remembering the eyes of the Seeker. “I’m not hungry. I’d rather sleep in a field than stay here.”

“There’s a barn just outside of town. I saw it while I was asking around for directions. We can sneak in, rest for a few hours, and leave before dawn. But there’s no negotiating. Tomorrow we will be walking and, if we don’t sleep, we won’t get far.”

“Fair.” I loosened my hair from the braid behind me, letting it warm my neck as we moved.

The eyes that watched us were wary, as if the Seeker had spread the word of strangers in the village. We hurried, leaving the peculiar seaside town behind us, headed straight for the broad silhouette of a large barn in the distance, lit only by the final seconds of dusk.

Halfway there, hushed voices sliced through the chilly air. Two figures, cloaked in the shadow of night, struggled on the side of the road. A man grunted, attempting to lift the side of his wagon hitched to a single horse. Grey dashed forward, taking the space beside the man to stretch his muscles and hoist the wagon with far more ease than he likely should have in this unremarkable world.

The woman, short in stature and graced with wrinkles that showed even in the darkness, rolled a wagon wheel forward and attempted to lift it onto the axle. She strained, twisting her face, so I followed Grey’s lead, dropping my clothing to slide my hands between the spokes and help her.

“I’ve got this if you can put the hub on,” Grey offered the old man.