He bolted into the cottage, followed by the cactus. “Meep, meep,meep!”
She got to her feet and puffed after them into the bedroom. Throwing the quilts off the crates, she piled the research books she’d been reading back inside and closed the lids. She then began tugging the first crate out of the cottage.
“Where to?” Caz asked.
“Boat,” Kiela said.
“How?”
“We pull it down the stairs? I guess?” As she maneuvered the first crate to the top step, she heard the rustle of bushes near the path. Her heart hammered inside her rib cage. “Hide,” she ordered Caz and the cactus.
There was no hiding the crate. She couldn’t just drop it down the stairs, not safely, not with water at the bottom of the steps. She had to guide it down, but there was no time—
Larran burst out of the greenery. “Kiela?”
“Over here,” she said, and then thought she should have stayed silent. Of course, he would have seen her in a second, just standing at the top of the steps with an enormous crate. She braced herself as he crossed to her—this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. She expected questions. Or a demand for an explanation. She knew he’d seen her flee—there was no way to hide that. She only hoped she had enough of a head start on Radane, that Bryn would keep her busy in the bakery for long enough—
But he didn’t demand anything. He merely asked, “What do you need?”
Kiela wanted to cry. That was the most—No, fall apart later.“I need help with the crates. I have to hide them. Caz and I . . . We need to get the crates to our boat and then . . . somewhere.” She didn’t know where. Out to sea. Along the coast. She didn’t know, but she’d figure it out. First, she had to get the books away from here. Maybe she could find another cove, one where no one knew to look for her. Or better yet, a cave. Yes! There were caves riddling the cliffs. She didn’t know where any were, but if she searched for long enough . . .I just have to get the books away.
He didn’t ask what was in the crates.
He didn’t ask why they needed to be hidden.
He simply helped. Grabbing the crate, he muscled it down the stairs himself, while she, Caz, and the cactus dragged the second crate from the back bedroom to the top of the steps.
Larran jogged back up the steps and hefted the next crate into his arms. She saw the strain in his arms and the sweat on his forehead. She knew the crates were painfully heavy, even for him, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t slow.
She went for the third crate.
The fourth.
The fifth.
By the last one, her arms were aching so badly that they shook. But she helped him carry the final crate down the steps, both of them grunting and wheezing. They positioned it onto the scow next to the others, and Kiela covered them all with the tarp.
“Kiela?” Caz called from shore. He was holding the bag of pine cone remedies in his leaves. The cactus was beneath the bag, helping support it.
“Caz, wait there. I’ll carry you over the dock. Cactus—”
“I’m staying,” Caz said.
Staying? Here? “You can’t. If she saw you and misunderstood . . .”
“There’s nothing illegal about me,” Caz said. “My creation, yes. But after my creator was punished, the head librarian did the paperwork to ensure I would be protected.”
“If Radane doesn’t believe you—”
“Meep!”
“They want to stay with me,” Caz translated.
This was a terrible idea, for both of them. She remembered how Fenerer had reacted when he’d just seen the spider plant. He hadn’t paused to ask about paperwork. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know—”
“Meep,meepl”
Kiela didn’t need a translation forthat.The cactus wanted to stay with Caz, which would normally be sweet but right now was just plain reckless. If Radane saw either Caz or the cactus, she’d be convinced that Kiela, not some elderly villager with an herbal remedy, was the source of the magic—and she’d be right. Kiela tried another tack. “I need the two of you to guard the books wherever I hide them. I can’t just stash them somewhere unguarded, and I can’t stay with them myself. It’ll be suspicious if I’m not at my shop.”
