Page 9 of Cage of Starlight
Thatcher waits halfway down the stairs, mouth open as if to call out. When he sees Tory, he stops and looks away.
Tory runs.
On the opposite side of town, a sturdy tree leans over the wall in the deepest part of the woods. It’ll take only a moment to climb up and drop down on the other side. He’ll be safe there. Before he came to this town—properly came here—he watched from the branches of those trees for days.
He’s not even halfway there, slipping through muddy back alleys that have pretty much zero foot traffic on market day, when he spots a group of soldiers with a woman and a little girl. The soldiers face away from Tory. He tries to slow down so he won’t attract attention, but the woman glances over the officers’ shoulders, mouth slackening with shock when she sees him.
“You said he ran this way?” one of the soldiers asks.
“Ah. Yes, well,” the woman’s attention snaps back to him. “You can take this path to get almost anywhere. It’s not a big town, Hulven. I’m afraid I can’t be sure where he was going . . .”
The girl clinging to the woman’s leg clearly doesn’t catch on to her mother’s game. Just like her mother did, the girl peeks over at Tory, but instead of deflecting, she yells, “Ah!” in gleeful recognition, revealing a missing front tooth.
The girl who broke his fall. Shit.
“Mommy, it’s the nice man!”
Tory runs full tilt, muscles screaming. If anything will save him, it’s his familiarity with this place.
He skids around a clump of bright mudbrick houses moments before the soldiers do, dives into the shadows between two of them, and bolts through. He slips out front and takes a quick left, but a strong hand seizes his shirt and pulls him into the next narrow passage before he picks up speed. He jabs his attacker with sharp elbows, but the arms immobilize him before he does any damage.
“Tory! Thank the stars, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Found Thatcher but he said you’d already left. Figured you’d be on the back roads, so—”
The fight drains from him. “Hasra?”
She lets go. “The Madam saw what happened at the market and recognized you. Long story short, I’m unemployed.”
“Shit, I’m—”
“That’s not why I’m here. Belmin’s sending someone to extract me, shouldn’t be more than an hour. Comewithme.”
He wants to, that’s the thing. Her perfume—like the sun-warmed earth beside rivers—blends with the spice of her pipe to slow his pounding pulse.Three days,he told her, because he could hardly bear to leave. Wanting is a sharp ache in his stomach. He’s not supposed to give in to it. It’s what got him in trouble in the first place.
But it’s fine, isn’t it? If he goes with her, she’ll take him someplace safe.
Yells and footsteps from nearby and a flash of that awful navy uniform shock him from his foolish dream. “I shouldn’t.”
She pulls him closer, out of sight. “No, all the more reason youshould.”
Maybe she’s right. She’s his best chance at escape. What would his mother say? Despite everything, she’d probably tell him to go with Hasra. No sacrifice is too great for freedom. But he imagines Hasra cuffed and carted away, tattooed like Tory, and he can’t. “You go ahead.”
“Tory, don’t be like this.”
He sets his jaw. He knows it’s a terrible decision. He won’t defend it to her.
She takes his stubbornness in stride like always. “Fine.Find me at Serpentshead when you’re out. I’ll wait for you there.”
Tory swallows past the knot in his throat. He lived in the caves down at Serpentshead Rock as a boy, crawled up the sturdy stone and bathed in sunlight far above the trees. She’s the only one he’s ever told about it. “You don’t have to do that.”
Another shout. Another soldier. Closer. “He went this way!” someone calls.
“You hear me?” Hasra grabs his jaw and makes him face her. “Serpentshead. If you don’t show, I’ll tear this whole country down to find you.”
Tory bites his tongue. He needs to leave,now, or he’ll do something stupid like stay.
He shoves away and into the light, pushing his legs as fast as they’ll go. He won’t make it to the other side of town. The woods on this side are sparse and rocky, but they’ll do. There’s another tree out here, a flimsy thing that bows over the wall like a mourner.
The soldiers follow, their huffing breaths and the crack of twigs far too close. The air grows earthy with the tang of coming rain. The first drops spatter cold on his nose and cheeks.
