Page 7 of Embers of Ruin

A shout carries over the wind, closer now than it was before. The man’s expression sharpens as he walks ahead of me. “We need to move. Quickly now.” A sense of urgency overwhelms me and I’m starting to believe he’s right. I don’t have a choice. Who is the biggest threat to me right now? I don’t have to think for long because I already know the answer. The Acolytes.

He catches my elbow again, not as roughly as before, but firmly enough to make it clear I need to follow him. I don’t protest, partly because self-preservation is a strong motivator, and I have nowhere else to go.

He leads me deeper into the forest without another word. I stumble on the uneven ground, catching myself against a trunk when he throws an arm out to steady me. I jerk away immediately, shooting daggers with my eyes and hoping the message is clear: I will rip your ass in half if you touch me again.

“I said I can manage on my own,” I snap, because I’ve just about had it with this day. Straightening my dress, I steady myself and follow closely behind him. Why the hell am I trudging through the forest in a dress?

“I bet you can,” he says, eyeing me skeptically. “Keep low,” he orders, ducking beneath a tangle of branches. “And for the love of the gods, cover your hair. Do you want to be caught? Your hair is practically a beacon.”

“What if I do?” I mutter, pulling my hood over my head. My hair has always been a topic of discussion, mainly because no one in Elvora has silver hair.

“Then you die,” he says simply. “Or become a prisoner. Your pick, honestly.”

He starts moving again without a word. A shout erupts somewhere behind us and we both freeze. For one terrible second, I’m certain they’ve found us. My hand goes to a pocket sewn into my dress where I keep another small pocket blade, prepared to defend myself. Then the sound fades deeper into the woods. I let out a sigh of relief. They haven’t found us. Not yet, at least.

I quicken my steps, trying to keep up with this sarcastic giant.

“Tell me, stranger, how did you know those guards were looking for me?”

“You are the only magic I sensed while passing through the area, so logically,” he glances down at me, “one plus one equals two.”

I roll my eyes, but something about his answer raises a red flag. I know Acolytes have to be close to sense magic. Yet somehow he sensed mine while merely passing through. Interesting.

“From the rumors I have heard, those guards believe you belong to the King,” he continues. “They are saying he has been looking for someone who fits your description. You know … the silver hair,” he makes a circle motion around his head for emphasis, “it could only have been you. People in Elvora … ”

“Don’t have silver hair. I know.” I finish as my stomach sinks. Someone from the village must’ve sold me out. I'd bet my life someone did. I only hope it wasn’t someone I helped. That betrayal would sting.

“Wait.” I slow my pace, eyeing him suspiciously. “How do you know so much about what the king wants?”

“I know many things about many people.”

“How informative.”

“One of my better qualities.”

“I can think of several qualities you seem to be lacking. I haven’t seen a good one yet.”

His mouth twitches. Progress. Maybe he will finally tell me something.

“As I said,” he continues, “your magic is impossible to miss. My business, however, is none of yours.”

“Ah, so mysterious. You’re a delight, do you know that?”

“And you are annoying.” His expression remains infuriatingly calm. “I’m considering turning you over to the guards for your voice alone. It’s grating on my ears.”

I gasp dramatically. “Did you just insult me?”

“Several times.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “Not that bright, are you?”

I stare at him. The man doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. I huff and continue walking.

A moment later, his earlier words catch up to me.

“Wait.” I glance at him. “What was that business about belonging to the king?” I scoff. “I belong to no one. Especially not that vile monster.”

“No?” One dark eyebrow arches.

“NO!”