Escaping

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She cupped her fingers over her lips, hoping she wouldn't gag or choke on the horrendously tasteless goop they called porridge. She swallowed tightly, forcing the hot lump down. "Prince Elon is what?"

The grumpy Healer Boy with ocean blue eyes arched his brows from where he stood a few cots away. His name was Viltus, but she preferred to call him Healer Boy, partially because he seemed so averse to the name. For some reason, he seemed to have patience for all others but her. "King Elon."

She smoothed her features, lest she be tempted to scowl. She never found Healer Boy quite so irritating as when he was correcting her. The meaning of his words crashed into her a moment later. "King?" she squeaked.

Her former betrothed was king? When had this happened? Why had she never been informed?

Healer Boy snorted. "You know not the name of our king? Where have you lived? In a horse's stable?

She clenched her jaw shut. If someone from the tiny village of Hasita came looking for her, it wouldn't take them long to find her if she told others where she was from. Though that scenario was unlikely, since she hadn't told anyone where she'd be going--she hadn't even left an explanation, lest they think to inform Elon.

When she didn't answer, his brows arched higher.

"King Elon is coming here then?"

He nodded, probably thinking she was daft.

"Within the hour?"

Another nod.

She swallowed thickly. "Why?"

Healer Boy shrugged, his thick cloak shifting with the movement. "Visiting the sickly is good politics, increases popularity. Since he's going to be here anyway, he might as well."

She laughed softly and shook her head. Now not only Viltus gazed at her with arched brows but her fellow patients as well. She supposed they were bored and found the drama amusing.

She ran fingers through her sleek hair. Of all the cities she'd fled to, it happened to be one the prin—King had planned to visit. "Why would he come to Zonah?"

"Perhaps for the women."

She scrunched fistfuls of threadbare blanket. Before remembering that Healer Boy didn't know she was betrothed to Elon, so he couldn't possibly have intended to offend her by the comment.

A smile tucked the corners of his mouth, unfairly blue eyes sparkling with amusement. If only her pale, pale blue eyes were the shade of his. "Ah, you fancied yourself to be a potential queen for the King?"

She leveled a glare at him. "Of course I don't. The title of Queen hasn't existed in centuries, since the First Queen died." Kings had taken on wives, but none of them had been granted the title or royal powers that would have marked them as Queen. And none of the King's children even succeeded him; the next King was always appointed by the previous King, strangely enough.

"Then you wish to only be his bride? Or perhaps his mistress." Before she could rebut his claims, he chuckled. "The King has remained Nysia's most pursued bachelor for years, and he's yet to find a woman. I doubt he'd mar his bachelordom by so much as glancing at you. "

She seamed her lips. If only he knew.

"But his main purpose in coming here is to reinforce Zonah against the forces of Esmeray. He brings an army of well-disciplined soldiers with him, and I'm certain they'll be of more help than the fabled 'powers' of the King alone." Healer Boy's last remark reeked of sarcasm.

Fabled powers? Did he mean the King's legislative powers?

"Though Zonah is well-populated with knights, they're lazy and lack the training to protect us from Esmeray's forces. In all honesty, they'd rather fight for themselves than for the city." Healer Boy tilted his head, eyes glimmering with suspicion. "I thought all in the Kingdom of Nysia knew this."

Her lips pinched together, as if she tasted something sour. "I live far from here."

"Oh?"

The gazes boring into her suddenly felt like fire against her skin. She hauled in a breath before it rushed back out, as if a tight band were bound around her chest. The King couldn't possibly know she was here. It had to be happenstance.

But regardless of why he came, she had to leave. Now.

She rose, letting the blanket pool at her feet, and snatched her satchel from beneath the cot. "Yes, very far. And I do believe I'm missing my family, so perhaps I'll visit them." She dipped into a shallow curtsey. "Good day, Healer Boy."

His brows scrunched at the title she'd bestowed upon him.

"Thank the other healers for me." She tipped her chin up. "They treat me with courtesy and are actually deserving of my gratitude. It's unfortunate I won't be able to thank them myself."

He blinked. "Why?"

"I'm leaving, of course." She edged around the cots, muttered a few 'excuse me's, and stopped at the entrance to the stairwell.

Viltus was still rooted to the spot, staring at her with lips parted. "Leaving? Whatever for?"

"I'm sure my family misses me, that's all."

"And you'll be traveling by yourself?"

The concern in his voice must have been her imagination. "That's the way I traveled here."

"Are you mad, woman?"

She contemplated his question for a moment. "Quite possibly." And with a flutter of her dress, she descended the stairs.

A few seconds later, footsteps patted behind her. "You can't just leave. You're still healing."

She quickened her pace.

"And no woman can safely travel through Zonah alone. Recall what state you were in when I found you."

She halted at a stone landing and spun around. "Why do you care?"

He didn't slow until he stood a hand's breadth from her. Something about his nearness seemed to tighten her chest, taking the breath from her very lungs. She stepped back until the stone wall nudged her from behind.

As he bent close, golden hair dusted his forehead from beneath his hood. A low hum rumbled from his chest. "You're scared of the King."

Her chest went from a rapid rise and fall to as still as the stone behind her.

His eyes narrowed. "Why? Are you a war criminal? A traitor?"

After fleeing from her village without the King's consent, quite possibly. She released a laugh far too breathy to be sincere. "Of course I don't fear the King. He's our sovereign. I simply..."

"Wish to visit your family? Speaking of them, where are they? From where have you journeyed?"

Carissa once more struggled to dislodge the breath caught in her throat. Too many questions to which she could not provide answers. She ducked past him and had nearly planted her foot on the first step of the next flight of stairs when her dress was snagged from behind and she was hauled backwards.

She squirmed and fought against him as he pinned her between his firm body and the wall.

"Cease, Carissa." His growl warmed the air by her ear.

She swung her head up to meet his gaze so quickly that her forehead nearly clipped his jaw. "Do you not release me, I shall scream."

Amusement tugged his mouth into a smirk. "This is not a game you can win, Carissa, for if you do so, I will name you a criminal to any who come. Then you will be kept here until the King himself can verify your innocence."

An echo from below the stairwell—the sound of a door being opened, of clanging armor, of voices—turned her retort into a plea. "Release me, I beg of you."

"And aid a criminal?"

The voices still echoed through the stairwell. Had the King arrived? "I'm not a criminal."

"No?" His eyebrows rose in their signature arch, sparking her ire.

She tried to push against him, so there was a more decent gap between them, but he refused to budge. "The King... claimed me against my will, so I fled." It was true enough.

Viltus drew back slightly. "To make you his mistress?"

Her gaze darted to the ground. Her silence would allow him to draw his own conclusions without forcing her to lie.

He shook his head. "By a Reaper's Scythe." His gaze darted down the stairwell. "Then you really are in danger, aren't you?"

She nodded. "Which is why I must go." He'd finally inched back enough for her to slip past. But she only managed to shift her weight before he slid between her and the stairs. Between her and her escape.

"Carissa, wait." He cupped her shoulders with his hands. "I think I can help."

***

Sunlight speared her eyes as the passageway spewed them into the alley. According to Viltus, all the healers were familiar with the network of tunnels tucked into the tower's nooks and crannies.

His grip on her wrist tightened as his pace quickened. His callouses rubbed uncomfortably against her skin. How did a healer even have callouses? "Hurry. My horse is in the stables in the back." He turned towards her. "Would one of the King's knights recognize you?"

"Horse?" She hadn't managed to hear anything past that single word.

His brows peaked. "Yes, a horse. Don't tell me the tiny town you formerly lived in didn't have those."

Her spine straightened. "Of course they did." But she'd only ever seen them from one side of the fence to stroke their velvety noses. Her parents had decided going any nearer would be too dangerous. "And... what are we going to do with the horse?"

He dropped his chin a notch, his stare incredulous. "Ride him."

Just as she'd feared. She'd never ridden before, due to her parents' protectiveness, but surely it couldn't be too difficult.

"Carissa, would the knights recognize you?"

She shook her head, raven hair rippling with the movement. She should have bound it into a braid, but she hadn't known she'd be out in the city today.

"Excellent." He tugged her along.

Within minutes, he'd lead her to the stables behind the tower. The light was dim, and the air muskily perfumed with the smell of dung and sweet hay. A few horses were stalled on the left, their coats sleek and their frames enormous. Should she have stood next to one, her head would have barely grazed the bottom of its shoulder blades. Their saddles, balanced on their stalls, were of the richest, deepest brown leather, edged with gold and silver threating, pommels topped with rounded jewels. A few knights were grooming the horses. They nodded their acknowledgement as Viltus ushered her through the stables.

Viltus stopped before a stable housing a slender horse, his gray back splattered with brown dots. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first.

She remained at the threshold, feet rooted to the hay-strewn floor. This horse was smaller than the royal horses, but it was still sizable.

"Carissa?" he murmured, low enough that the knights wouldn't hear.

She inched backwards, until Viltus curved his hand around the small of her back, stopping her.

"You aren't scared are you?"

The horse swung its head towards her, ears perked.

She gulped. "I've never ridden one before. I didn't realize quite how big they could be until this moment."

"Freckles isn't that big."

Her gaze shot to his. "Freckles?" She wouldn't have guessed Viltus' horse would bear that name. "Where did you come up with that?"

His jaw tightened. "I'll help you mount him."

Was he embarrassed he'd named the horse that? "Perhaps we could walk."

He glanced at the ceiling, as if beseeching for help. "Carissa. Then I'd need to walk from there back to here simply to retrieve Freckles at the end of the day."

"And where is 'there?' Where are we going?"

With firm pressure to the small of her back, he led her into the stable. "My home."

She dug her heels into the ground. The horse seemed to get bigger as they neared.

Viltus huffed before leaving her clinging to the side of the stable as he brushed, saddled, and bridled the horse.

"Why ever are we going there?"

He extended a hand towards her.

She stared at his fingertips.

"Carissa. If you'll just remain at ease, I can help you. Just come to me."

She slipped her hand into his and found her palm sliding against his strangely uncomfortable.

He drew her near before bracketing her waist with his hands and lifting her onto the saddle.

The horse snorted and shifted slightly with the sudden weight.

"Oh!" Carissa placed her hands onto Viltus' shoulders for balance. Once the horse stopped, she lifted her right leg to swing it over the horse's neck and onto the other side.

Viltus stilled her movement with a hand to her knee. "What do you do, Carissa?"

She blinked. "Surely you don't expect me to ride sidesaddle. How am I to keep my balance if I don't straddle the horse?"

"I will be seated behind you. You need not worry about balance." A moment later, he hefted himself onto the saddle behind her. "And riding astride isn't proper for a woman."

Cheeks heating, she scooted as close as she could towards the pommel, away from him. "Well, I see nothing proper about this arrangement."

His arm curled around her waist and dragged her back against his chest. "I have but one horse, and you've never ridden before. Now cease squirming. Though I might not mind you moving against me, my horse is of a different mind."

The comment prodded the flames in her cheeks into a roaring fire. She stiffened against him. "Cur."

Low chuckles were his only reply. He guided the horse out of the stables and into the city, while keeping his other hand wrapped around her.

He held her not at a distance—as would a man who believed her to be cursed or betrothed—but snugly against his chest. If he knew, how would he treat her differently? Would he push her away?

Carissa sucked in a breath to steel herself against the flutterings he stirred within her. So long as she was in his company, she would do her best to keep her secrets as they were: hidden.

***

Author's Note: My younger brother wanted to make sure everyone knew he was partially responsible for the ideas in this chapter ;) So now you know.

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