Page 16 of Deadly Maiden

“She is mine.”

I gape at the stupid words coming from this enforcer, but he’s placed himself between the three others and me. A quick sprint and I can be gone.

“Anathema,” I whisper. The faint scrabble says he heard me. “Meet me outside.”

Then I run for the window. From the yells and the scuffling, the fourth man, the red-haired giant, is delaying them. Or killing them.

I prefer the latter, I decide, as I dive through the window and recover my feet, staggering. Sword lost, I dash southward, to where I calculate they must have left their mounts to follow the town. The eastern side of our road scrapes a cliff and is unreachable by horses, and the bow and stern would be stupid.

I may have to run the length of the town to reach them, but once I do, I can escape.

Escape, and if Father dies, I will track down and kill the men who did this.

He would want that…wouldn’t he? I’m not sure.

Can I ever return to Bollingham if the Aos Sin want me dead?

His last words were odd. Why would he dig my grave? But I don’t have time for this sadness and guilt, and I lock it away, deep, to be released when I have some space to think and to feel.

There is something under the floorboards he wanted to give me.

That memory diverts me for a painful second. I cannot get that, though it may have been the key to the fortress.

An alley threads between the cobbler and Aunt May’s tavern, dead-ending at the defensive wall we’ve never needed. I scramble to the top of the wall, using foot and handholds memorized since my earliest adventures. I lower myself to a crouch, calculating the drop to the outer ledge. The ground beyond, the grass knee-high, skims past—my world has been destroyed but Bollingham keeps going and going. Nothing stops a golem town.

I wish I could stay.Everything is in pieces. I brush away fresh tears, steady myself with a hand on the stone capping.

“Wyntre! I heard the fuss!” Rhuy has found me and stands haloed in the light at the entrance to the alley. He blows me a kiss, then hisses, “Stay safe! I’ll draw them away.” He dashes to the side, vanishes.

My heart is aglow for a few, awed seconds that I spend wondering how he knew what happened and then hopinghe stays safe. But this is our town. Trouble, gossip, and yes, friendship, travel from one end to the other faster than a whisky-fueled sprite.

The breeze tussles my hair, throwing pieces across my face that stick to my tears. I drop to the ledge—the last part of my town that I will touch for who knows how long.

With the hair band that I fish from a pocket of my red leggings, I tie my hair into a ponytail. In daylight, my red leggings will show up from miles away, but my shirt and jacket are brown and black—that’s one plus. The leggings…I can smear them with dirt.

Five horses trot parallel.

I used to do this for a dare, not that long ago, though the poor light adds danger.

I say a prayer to whatever gods are listening, securely button my jacket then wait, judging when to jump to the ground. Anathema joins me, seconds before I must make the leap. He crawls up my shirt to my hair and grips it tightly. I feel the yank from his tiny fists as I throw myself into the air.

Landing, I run myself to a halt with big, loping strides. Moonlight paints the land enough to see where to put my feet. I’m panting but I need to move.

So much of his blood fell upon our floor.

Will they kill him for fighting back, for stabbing one of them?

I gulp back nausea and summon what I need—a somewhat ragged calmness.

When I raise my arms and wave, a mare diverts from the others and comes to me. She has been trained to perfection to greet her rider and is dark-hued—enough to make her hard to find once I have some distance under her hooves.

Horse. Acquired. I catch her reins, fumble for the stirrup so as to ready myself to swing into the saddle.

Next is justice and revenge.

The thump of feet warns me I have a follower, and I risk a glance.

It isn’t just one.

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