Page 153 of Thorn Season
“The Hunters,” Perla clarified, as if telling me something I didn’t know. “They’re in another meeting with Erik now. They seem to be in a tug-of-war with him—lingering in the council room every night, like they want to be here in case he changes his mind. But they always leave angrier than they come. I think they’re losing.”
So, Briar still wanted my head. And Erik was holding her off.
I shuddered just as the first manacle came apart in Perla’s hand. The air kissed my raw skin, and I could’ve cried again.
“There’s a horse by the servants’ door,” Perla said, starting on the second manacle. “Ride to Backplace. A coach is waiting at the western corner, and it’ll take you to the Byrds’ private harbor in Avanford. We have a ship that can navigate the waters into Bormia. The coachman will give you the citizenship papers you’ll need.
“Now, this is important, Alissa. The coach will depart at midnight with or without you. If it waits longer, the city guards will grow suspicious. Do you understand? You must reach Backplace by midnight.”
“I—I understand,” I lied. It was too much to remember in my muddled state. Backplace. Citizenship papers. Passage to Bormia...?I was still dazed at the fact that she couldpick locks. “How did you do all this?”
She gave a crooked smile. “My father was a naval soldier in his youth. He passed a few things on to me, including his connections.” Her smile turned sour. “Mother’s the strategist. She’d been preparing my older sister, Petra, to secure Erik’s hand in marriage. But last spring, right before her eighteenth season, Petra and I fell ill. Mother fasted for days, imploring the gods to spare at least one daughter—her darling, favorite girl. The gods had a dark sense of humor. They saved me instead. After Petra died, Mother tried selling me off as Erik’s bride in her place. But I wasn’t going to become a vicious king’s toy.”
If Perla had looked up, she would’ve seen my face falling slack. I was remembering her fear when Erik had aimed my arrow at her foot; her wobbly reach when he’d offered her a turn. Then the incongruous stability of her grip, clenching strong around the bow.
Like she’d wanted to make a swing with it.
An invisible hand wiped the haze off my mind like steam off a window.
How often had I seen Perla clinging to the shadows? How often had she startled me with her silent presence? She hadn’t been cowering. She’d been listening, noticing.Performing.
From the start, she’d thought to save herself by acting too dull for Erik’s consideration. When I’d arrived, she’d tried to save me, too.
She was still trying.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked, awed.
“Erik told the court you’d contracted blueneck fever to explain your disappearance. He even brought a high minister to pray for your recovery.” She scoffed. “A court of educated nobles, and nobody realized you’ve already had blueneck fever.”
“You realized.”
“Well”—she tugged at her neckline—“I recognized the scar.”
Between her breasts sprawled the bruise-like discoloration I knew from my own bosom—though hers was a richer blue, suggesting a more recent sickness. The same sickness that must have taken her sister.
She returned to my manacle and released the final lock. The iron clunked to the floor.
I stared at my wrists, bewildered.Free.
My knees creaked as Perla heaved me up. I swayed, and she hooked an arm around me.
“When did you last eat?” She looked toward my untouched tray.
“I’m not sure. I don’t know how long I’ve been here.”
“Rose Season ended twelve days ago.”
I winced. Of course Erik had been worried. Over twelve days, I’d eaten a fraction of what I should have.
Perla propped me against the wall and grabbed a bread roll. “Eat fast. I can’t carry you if you collapse.”
Each bite slid like a rock to my hollow stomach. As I finished, I caught a glimmer from the shadows. The xerylite ring—tucked in the corner from when I’d flung it away.
Following my gaze, Perla straightened. “Is that a...?” She trailed off, studying the cell anew: the pillow, the hearty meal, the dignified chamber pot with fresh linens on the side. Then she looked at me and seemed to realize I hadn’t a scratch to show from my time as Erik’s prisoner. She asked, incredulous, “What does he want?”
I didn’t have an answer.
She fetched the ring and dropped it into my pocket.
