Page 54 of Veinblood
“It’s not a trap.” I meet her eyes. “I swear to you, I’m not Authority. I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m just … lost and scared. And the man who gave me that phrase told me to search for someone who would understand it, and they would help me.”
“What help do you need?”
“I have to find my way back to the people I was separated from.” It’s the simple truth, but stripped of all the dangerous details surrounding it. “I have nowhere else to turn.”
She sips her tea, watching me over the rim of her cup. “Who are the people you want to return to?”
I’ve been dreading this question. How do I explain without revealing too much? Without endangering everyone involved before I know for sure I can trust her?
“Goodpeople. People who are fighting for what is right.”
“That isn’t specific enough.”
“It’s all I can tell you right now.”
There’s another long pause. I can almost see her weighing risks, considering possibilities, trying to determine whether I’m worth the danger I represent. Eventually, she sets down her cup.
“I need time to think about this. You will wait here while I consider what to do. I have errands to run.”
Fear spikes through me. Is this where she goes and brings Authority soldiers to take me away?
“Wait for how long?”
“As long as it takes.” She stands, and lifts the hood on hercloak. “I am going to lock the doors from the outside when I leave. For both our protection.”
“You’re leaving me here alone? How can I trust you’re not going to bring soldiers here?”
“You can’t, but you don’t have a choice.” Her voice is firm, matter-of-fact. “If you try to leave before I return, you will be on your own in a city that will kill you for not knowing its rules. There is no one else who can help you. You can either trust me, or take your chances alone. Decide now, before I leave.”
She’s right. This is my only chance. I have no real choice but to accept her conditions or face the city and its dangers alone with no allies.
“Can I trust you?”
“For now? Yes.” She pauses at the door, her hand on the lock. “For what it’s worth, I hope you are what you’re claiming to be.”
She slips out of the door before I can respond, and the lock clicks into place, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet, followed by the slide of additional bolts being secured from the outside. I’m alone, in a stranger’s house, depending on the mercy of someone who has no reason to trust me.
The hours crawl by with agonizing slowness. I try to distract myself by exploring the small room, but there’s little to see. A few books on a shelf. Clay pots and wooden bowls. A cooking area with a small fire. Everything speaks of a life lived simply, without drawing attention.
I attempt to read one of the books, but the words blurtogether. My eyes constantly lift to the shutters, tracking the shadows of people as they walk past on the street outside. Each set of footsteps could be her returning. Or could be Authority soldiers.
I test the shutters, checking their locks. They’re solid, well-maintained, but they won’t stop the Authority soldiers if they try to break in.
My mind keeps circling back to worst-case scenarios. What if the woman doesn’t come back? What if she’s caught and questioned? What if she’s already leading Authority soldiers back here right now, having decided that turning me in is safer than risking her own life?
Every sound from the street makes me freeze, and hold my breath. The clatter of cart wheels over cobblestones. Voices calling to each other. The tread of what could be patrol boots or someone carrying a heavy load. I strain to decipher each noise, trying to determine whether it represents daily life in Ashenvale or my impending doom.
The waiting is torture. Every minute feels like an hour. I search the room more thoroughly, and pocket the small knife I find in a drawer. It won’t save me from soldiers with swords, but it’s better than having no protection at all.
Shadows lengthen across the room as afternoon turns into evening. There’s still no sign of the woman. I don’t want to think about what that might mean. The longer she’s gone, the more convinced I become that something has gone wrong.
I’m giving serious thought to trying to break the locks onthe windows, when I hear footsteps outside, followed by the lock turning. My fingers curl around the hilt of the knife in my pocket and I stand, bracing myself. The door swings open, and the woman ducks inside, lowering the hood on her cloak.
“This is her.”
Three people follow her inside, and while I can’t see their faces, I canfeelthem staring at me.
“Speak the phrase again,” one of them says. A woman’s voice, firm and commanding.
