Chapter 3
Callum
Ilead Clover back to the carriage that I arrived in, tucked away in the shade near the back of the overseer’s barracks. My Hunters keeping guard straighten and salute as I walk up. They’re all surreptitiously trying to sneak a glimpse at Clover, the woman we traveled almost a week to find. Only my closest two friends, also fellow Hunters, know the purpose of this journey, and I’m sure rumors are already spreading amongst the rest of them about me picking up a random woman in the desert.
Ginna, my second-in-command, and one of the Hunters who knows the trip’s true purpose, is the first to speak.
“All set, sir?” She only adds that formality in front of the other Hunters and it sounds strange on her tongue.
I nod, and Ginna pulls open the carriage door for us in greeting, juxtaposing with her hand lightly resting on her sword. She is one of my oldest friends, having known each other since childhood, and I know she would go to any lengths to make sure that I was safe.
I nod my head towards Clover, who is still straight-backed, projecting an air of confidence. “This is Clo -” I start, but Clover immediately interrupts.
“Elia.” She sticks a hand out in greeting towards Ginna. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Ginna furrows her brows at me as she shakes Clover’s - Elia’s - hand. I could have sworn the overseer had called her Clover.
“Ginna. You’re coming back to the palace with us?” Ginna asks.
“It would seem that way.” Elia beams jovially at Ginna as if she met a new friend, and I can tell Ginna is a bit unsettled by it.
“So it does,” Ginna muses. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Elia.”
“Now that introductions are out of the way…” I gesture for Clover to climb into the carriage.
“We’re on a bit of a tight schedule,” Ginna throws an apologetic half-smile towards Elia.
“I’ve heard.” Elia rolls her eyes and climbs into the cabin, throwing me a scowl as she does.
She settles herself on the bench and scoots as close as she possibly can to the window. Lucky for me, the windows don’t open, or I’d be afraid she would try and jump out. I climb onto the opposite seat, and sit towards the middle, close enough to try and talk with her, but far enough away that our knees aren’t brushing, for her sake and for mine.
She doesn’t make any comment as the door shuts, and instead fixes her gaze on the view out the window. I focus on the shuffle outside as we prepare for our departure, and shortly after jostle in my seat as the carriage begins to move.
“You didn’t tell me your name wasn’t Clover.” My words come out more accusatory than I mean.
“You’ve never had a nickname before?” Elia arches a brow.
Being called Cal instead of Callum doesn’t really count as a nickname. The only real nicknames I had were pet names, and I try hard not to ever dwell on those again.
I sidestep her question. “The overseer didn’t mention your full name to me.”
She snorts. “Not surprised. He probably doesn’t even know it. He and the guards have called me Clover since my first week there.”
“How do you get Clover from Elia?” I notice she still doesn’t provide me with her full name.
She grips the bench with both her hands, leaning forwards slightly. “Luck.” She raises her eyebrows. “Isn’t that the reason you came for my help? The lucky girl finding all the relics in the Sand Traps?”
She isn’t entirely wrong, and I probably owe her an explanation. Silence fills the cabin as I try to put thoughts to words, struggling, as despite my careful seating arrangement, our knees brush at every movement of the carriage and erase any intelligible thought.
“Some members of the King’s council were talking about Labor Camp West in its entirety. That location has provided the King with the most relics to date, so we came to investigate. The overseer was the one who mentioned that you were the person single-handedly finding them all.” I lick my lower lip, trying not to notice her eyes instinctively tracking the movement. “Is that really all it was? Luck that made you find so many of them?”
“Like I told you earlier, I’ve been at the camp for ten years. Of course I would find the most.” She flicks a piece of hair from her face. “Honestly, I wouldn’t get your hopes up on me finding whatever you’re on the hunt for.I’ll do my best to help, but with the caveat that I’m not a miracle worker, nor would I consider myself lucky.” Elia mutters that last part under her breath, so low that I almost miss it.
Now it is my turn to falter. The work camps were set up to be places where people could temporarily go for a job, food, and shelter until they saved enough to move on. They were never meant to be someone’s home for a year, never mind ten.
I want to question her further for details about her life, how she ended up staying there so long, why she didn’t leave, and about a dozen other questions, but I figure I shouldn’t press my luck given the day of events.
“Well, any insight is appreciated. You’re kind of our last resort.”
