Page 41 of Of Shadows and Blood

Sawyer looks around, as if to reorient himself.

“East,” he points. “We must go past the cottage.”

I nod, feeling my chest pain a moment, followed by a shoot of pain across my head. The blood healed the superficial wounds, but now I can’t help but wonder the extent of my body’s wear. I push it away, stifling the echo of pain making its way up my throat.

Sawyer motions forward and we begin jogging through the trees. Remaining a few steps ahead, I navigate branches and bramble. Vampyr do supposedly have better vision, but I imagine my eyes will take time to focus. The forest is not as dark as I expected it to be at this time of night, but I also didn’t exactly have much time to plan this escape.

The forest floor crunches under our feet as we near the stone building, slipping behind the structure. We pass by the wall of windows that opens up into my room.

“Do tell me more about this plan of yours,” Sawyer requests, pulling me further into the brush. Branches scratch at my ankles and I regret not putting the riding boots on. I thought they would stick out under my dress in the banquet room.

“Like you said… We make it out of the forest, find the nearest road, and head to the nearest port,” I answer. “Do you know how far away we are?”

“I’d say twenty miles or so. The city is not far and we can arrange passage there.”

“That sounds incredibly far. Can we access a port through Krue?” I try to recall any other information I have on this place. This land.

Sawyer shakes his head. “No, Krue is landlocked between us and Duresden. Our safest port would be Kilare.”

I nod, still catching my breath. The flames from sentries posted along the castle ground’s perimeter remind me to be on alert. We veer south next to a semi-formed trail, each step calculated and precise. Sawyer knows his way better than I do.

“Avoid reading too much into this statement, but I might have gratitude that you are here.”

He ducks under a low-lying branch, pointing to a small bridge ahead. “Plans have been made before. I’m just glad to have you with me this time.”

Pocketing that information, I move the same branch, trying to keep up with him over the bridge. My head pounds with each step. We move in silence, not wanting to risk detection, the stream below running quickly.

On the other side of the stream, we hustle and weave through the oak and pine, never slowing down or faltering. I only wish I had the sack that was packed full of necessities. Sawyer’s lead is fast and I struggle to keep up as the night goes on. My ears perk up at any noise. The fear of being caught and dragged back to the castle drives me forward.

Though my legs ache, I do not yield to it. My freedom is far more important than rest. Motivation is fleeting, dedication lasts forever. And I am dedicated to my life.

My life.

As dawn begins to break in the distance, we approach a dirt country road. A mile marker in stone provides much needed respite as I lean against it. The soles of my slippers are practically worn through and my body screams for rest but I will press forward.

“The city is just around the bend.” Sawyer points forward. We continue walking along the side of the road as the rays of the golden sun beam down upon our faces. The season here is in a cold period so the warm heat upon my cheeks is welcomed. A group of field workers pass us going in the opposite direction. The women carry sacks of grain on their back as they make friendly conversation. A few pay small notice to us, eyes catching on our fine clothing.

I wrap my arms around my midsection and smile tersely as the city comes into view. A stone bridge crosses a large river before opening up into the bustling capital.

“Veda,” Sawyer says, pausing to take it all in.

“Wow.” I release a breath. Towering spires and stone arches rise into the sky. Some buildings look to be leaning upon one another and strings of light, so many of them, stretch across neighborhoods. We cross the bridge and turn down a narrow street, feet avoiding mystery puddles along the storefronts.

Business owners are barely setting tables out and opening their doors. An older, plump woman sweeps her doorstep and waves to us as we pass. I smile a little bigger in response, still trying to keep my head down. Sawyer looks down at the top of my head and groans.

“That hair will get us back to Demis like this –” He snaps his fingers. He arches an eyebrow as he looks up and down the street. More citizens begin to wake up and enter society around us. Sawyer grabs my hand and tugs me down a small connecting alley. The alley is roughly cut, narrow in some places and wide in others. The wider openings are used to full advantage by nearby tenants. Rugs and chairs in circles give me an insider view as to how close this community is.

“Where are we going?” I ask, ducking under a low patio. We exit onto another street of businesses, similar to the last.

“Here.” He pulls me into an odd shop.

Odd in the sense that it looks to be the size of a broom closet on the outside, but once we cross the threshold the entire space opens up to the size of a warehouse.

“How?” I trail off, spinning around to take in the thousands of shelves and crates all around. Workers stack pallets in one corner, another has a sorting station and busy couriers weave in between the rest of the staff.

“The owner is a cess,” he replies as a younger robed man steps out from a second story office.

“My prince.” The man opens his arms in welcome as he descends the stairs. Sawyer embraces the man and shakes his hand, the two whispering something that ends in laughter before he turns to me.