Page 149 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
Guilt.
Shame.
Underneath that hesitation, there was something else. A tremor of wanting things I didn’t feel I deserved.
This city’s inhabitants had let me be. Let me skulk and plot and hide behind stinky barrels to my scared heart’s content.
Yes, the hounds had raced after me, fangs poised for my neck or Nadya’s.
The memory of those lights and hum still rattled me, my steps unsure as I left the fortress, under the same watchful eyes of the warriors. But the ones guarding the entrance today weredifferent–a tall, burly fellow usually narrowed his eyes at me whenever I slunk outside.
I shook my head, readjusted my fur-lined coat the thirtieth time since leaving my room, and rolled my shoulders back.
Instead of hurrying toward the closest back-alley behind the thorny bushes, I took a right, walking right past the archery grounds tucked inside the pine clearing guarding the fortress.
The main road was cobbled with the same weathered stones, but devoid of icy patches.
The fronts of the buildings were clean and crisp, little ribbons of pine branches adorning the doorframes, as if to ward off evil spirits. Unlit red candles stood straight behind their small windows, like soldiers, cocooned by thick curtains which looked to have been stitched by hand with many jagged symbols I didn’t recognise. And those windows weresmall–barely big enough to shimmy through.
Maybe it was to keep the cold out and the warmth in.
Maybe it was a defense against something different. Something more sinister.
But everything was clean and orderly, from the pruned pine trees to the scrubbed water trenches flanking the sides of the road.
I’d only seen the backs of houses that towered over me, judgemental cats watching me as closely as the warriors.
Another being also kept its eyes on me.
I stopped in the middle of the curiously empty road and looked toward the sky, the sun already starting its descent.
“I know you’re out there,” I called out.
No reply.
“You probably love making me feel like a fool, talking to the sky in the middle of the street, but I want to tell you something,” I tried again, actually feeling more foolish by the second.
Luckily, nobody peeped behind the curtains and the street was eerily silent and devoid of life. No carts, no children screaming, no people rushing for the day’s labour like back in Aquila.
But there was a familiar echo drumming up ahead–where I needed to go and show my face. Properly this time.
Just as I began to walk away, the flutter of wings resounded up behind me.
I turned to the filigreed eave of the nearest house, only to see Sylvester perched on it, looking down at me with all the attitude in the world, like he’d done on that first day.
The first glimpse of his dark feathers brought back shards of violent memories from that heinous night. My hand flew to my neck, now bruise-free, but still tender.
Suddenly, the pressure turned suffocating, closing my throat, as a sickly blue tendril danced in front of my eyes.
Sylvester squawked loudly, bringing me back to this sunny day.
I was in the crater.
I was safe.
“I wanted to thank you,” I called out, hand shaky, but lowering, as fresh air flooded my lungs.I was safe. “For protecting me that night.”
The raven cocked his head to the side, blinking at me lazily.
