AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
VIOLET
The whiskey burned as it went down her throat, tasting bitter like betrayal. Drops of amber liquid trickled down her cheeks and neck, cooling her skin, but they failed to ease the ache that had settled in her chest like a growing sickness which took over her every thought.
No matter how much she drank, the memories kept on coming.
Fugitive.
Lowlife.
Deserter.
She should have known better than to trust that people would side with her. No one would turn against the Crown, which demanded that magical humans marry only for procreation, for the preservation of magic.
The parchment she held in one hand crumpled in her tightening fist, the neat penmanship disappearing behind crisp folds, hiding the name she had long since memorized.
Gavin Luna, her groom.
Warmth spread through her gut, part liquor, part boiling anger. She slammed the empty glass on the worn surface of the table.
“Another!” she growled in Obsidian, hoping her accent wouldn’t mark her as an outsider to the people of this mountain. Blending in was imperative to her escape. Her voice, though loud, was almost drowned out by the instrument playing in the background—a guitar strummed poorly by a drunken man. The bartender at the end of the room glanced back at her with a frown. He wiped his hands over a spotted apron that wrapped tight over his round stomach.
He grunted loud enough that she could hear his displeasure despite the noise. His dark copper skin—a similar shade to hers—glistened under the light of the lanterns as he walked back toward the bar, presumably to fetch her drink.
Perhaps shouting orders was odd here in the mountains. It was common in the Iron City’s taverns. She’d done it often enough when she’d gone out with her assembly after a tough assignment. Not that she cared if this man was offended by her manners, or lack thereof. Trying to please others was one of the many reasons that she was in trouble to start with.
She scrunched her nose at the mess she’d made when slamming her empty glass on the table. Her dinner lay spilled before her. The lentil soup had still been lukewarm, too, even though it had sat untouched the entire evening. Now she regretted her impulsive outburst. She had little coin left, and wasting food was idiotic if she intended to survive a week, let alone cross the mountain range.
Her trip across the Obsidian mountains would be considered unwise by most in her shoes. But she had to see her family one last time before she had to leave the kingdom for good. They were the only wholesome thing she had left.
“Bad day?” a woman wearing red slurred from the table next to hers. The scent of chewed tobacco and tooth rot plumed out of her thin, cracked lips. Violet jumped at the newcomer’s sudden appearance. She could have sworn she’d been alone in this part of the room.
The skin on her arms pebbled, and her gut twisted as she studied the old woman carefully, taking in her frail bones and thin frame. Not an obvious threat, but in a world of magic she couldn’t take a risk, no matter how harmless the person or creature looked.
She didn’t linger on her haggard neighbor’s form, quickly moving her gaze back to the entrance of the tavern. Keeping an eye on your escape route could mean the difference between freedom or capture, and she hadn’t traveled this far to get caught again.
“It’s not a good day for me either,” the woman continued, tapping her long fingers against her clay mug. She had the thick knuckles of someone who worked with her hands and spotted skin that had once been fair, but which had been deepened by the sun. Most likely a traveler, worn down by the unforgiving mountains of the Iron Kingdom. “I’m Luelle.”
“Violet.” She forced the word out past stiff lips. It wasn’t her true given name, but a nickname her little sister had given her, as her eyes were purple, like the flowers. That had been long before the Crown had ripped her away from the shelter of her family’s arms. It was the name she’d always used with her closest friends in the assembly. Friends—hah. Treacherous vipers, the lot of them.
“Are you new in town?” Luelle asked. At first, Violet had assumed Luelle’s voice was distorted by liquor, but it was a thick accent from another land. The woman didn’t wait for a response before taking a healthy swig of her drink and wiping the drips that trailed down her chin away with her wrist. Her eyes, hazy with age, flitted toward the door. “You must be. The Iron City clothes give you away. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to find a fallen soldier when I was sent here.”
A fallen soldier… What a nice way to describe what she truly was. A deserter. The scum of this land, in the eyes of the Crown’s army.
Violet leaned away. Her limbs felt too heavy, weighed down by the alcohol running through her blood. She pressed her lips together and buried the condemning letter inside her coat’s pocket. Her first mistake had been to drink this heavily when she needed to be alert and ready. She cursed her stupidity as the lights of the room danced above her head.
Desperation wasn’t a good look on anyone, and she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. Her escape was only a breath away from failing.
The bartender’s large shape loomed over her as he placed a tall glass on the table. “Next time get the drink yourself, princess…” He frowned at her spilled dinner. The corners of his lips twitched, and Violet witnessed the moment something shifted in his eyes. “I don’t clean up other people’s messes. You shall have to pay me for my trouble.” His gaze trailed down the curves of her breasts.
She slammed the gold coin on the table, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Your cleaning is not my problem.”
He twirled the gold coin with two fingers, and his dark tongue traced his bottom lip. “This won’t cover your bill.”
“It’s what my first drink cost.”
“Too bad, prices just went up.” He brought his hand over his dirty apron, hooking a finger on the fabric belt. “It’ll be five gold coins for the drink and the cleaning.”
