“I’m not talking about this town; I’m talking about Ryker.”
I grinned at him. “He’s all tough and growly like a grizzly, but inside, he’s a teddy bear.”
Tucker gave me a skeptical look. “Sure, if teddy bears liked to rip off heads.”
“Ryker doesn’tlikedoing that.”
“Hmm,” Tucker grunted.
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing as I bumped his hip playfully with mine. “You might look good without a head.”
“You’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious. Come on, it will be fine.”
He still looked doubtful but didn’t argue further as we strolled out of the woods and onto the street. I had no intention of going too far; Nottingshire was far too close to the duke for my liking, but it was also the town I’d grown up running around as a kid.
It was a familiar place I loved, and it held many fond memories, even if it made me sad to see what had become of the amsirah living here. When I was a kid, Nottingshire was a bustling place full of happy immortals who called out greetings, hawked their wares, and smiled as they hurried down the busy streets.
In my memory, I could still see those busy streets full of laughter. At one time, the roads were so crowded that it was difficult to maneuver through the wagons full of goods.
As a child, I’d darted in and out of the crowd. Scarlet and I had dashed around carriages and legs while sprinting toward the Veiled Rock.
We laughed as we joined the other children from Nottingshire there. Together, we pretended to be dragons, princes, and princesses from far-off lands who’d battled monstrous creatures. We always won.
Sometimes, we’d dance at the edge of the forest, aware of the peril within but too invincible to care. If something attacked us, we’d defeat it!
When they called our names, we’d dash back to our parents. Often, we’d get meat pastries, frozen ices, or sticky cinnamon buns before returning home.
I missed those days of licking icing from my fingers while sitting contentedly between my parents. Sometimes, if her parents didn’t come too, I’d ride in the back of the wagon with Scarlet.
Often, the rocking of the vehicle would lull me to sleep. When that happened, my father wouldn’t wake me when we returned home but would instead carry me to bed. With my parents to tuck me in, I’d nestle beneath my blankets, full of sweets and enveloped with love and security.
They were days filled with an innocence I didn’t understand until years after I’d lived them. I yearned for their simplicity again.
Now, those days were gone, and the once crowded and cheerful streets were empty of joy. Few amsirah were on the road, and it wasn’t the crisp November day that drove them inside.
Instead of embracing their lives, they now felt compelled to hide from a world that had turned on them. It saddened me that the remaining children of this town didn’t know the freedom we’d experienced.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ellery
By the timewe reached the middle of the road, most of the amsirah on the street had vanished. All that remained was a small child walking beside his mother.
The boy stopped to look at us. His mother had been walking with her head down, and at such a brisk pace, she dragged the boy a few feet before realizing he’d ceased moving.
I couldn’t make out the words she hissed at him, but she tugged on his hand while he used the other to point at us. The woman’s head lifted; she stared at us as I set the chest in the middle of the road.
The caravan hadn’t come through here yet, but it would, even after the robbery. When it did, these amsirah would require carisle to replace what the duke stole from them.
“This is for the town,” I called to her.
The woman looked from me to the chest and back again. Her eyes widened as understanding dawned, and she pulled her child closer. The boy was no more than five, and if the duke had his way, he’d soon tear the child from his mother’s arms.
“We can help you in the Revenant Woods,” I told her. “We’ll keep you both protected if you join us.”
“We can’t survive in there.”
