Page 34 of Bride of Ash & Dust

How in the hells am I going to explain this to Anura? To Elrick?

To my father?

“My lord?”

The voice startles me. I’ve been following Zarek blindly through the gardens, trying to hold back the flood of panicked tears and crushing the piece of parchment that somehow bears my seal to my chest. I didn’t even watch where we were going.

And now we’re at the castle gates.

“The lady and I are spending the day in town,” Zarek says to the guard at the gates.

His voice still holds that knife’s edge of barely suppressed anger. The guard must sense it too, because he backs away before nodding. The castle gate swings open for us. Zarek pulls us through.

Perhaps he’s leading me to Marion right away. Maybe he’ll shove me into the closest carriage. Or tie me in the back of a cart like livestock.

Father will be apoplectic.

The realization sits like a stone on my heart. I remember every threat he ever made. I’ll never be allowed in the stables again. My room will be taken away, and I’ll sleep on the floor. Or, gods, I might never leave my room again.

“Zarek,” I say. My voice comes out thin and tight, like a whisper. “Zarek, please.”

He stops. He’s pulled me down a tight alleyway, dark with last night’s shadows that still cling to the sides of the building. It smells like piss and manure. He frowns, then pulls at the cloak on his shoulders.

“Please—” I say again.

Zarek shoves his cloak into my arms.

“Wear this,” he says. “Fasten all the clasps. Don’t let anyone see the dress under it.”

I swallow hard. I tuck the letter into my pocket, then pull Zarek’s cloak around my shoulders and fasten the clasps in the front. The thick, dark cloth smells like sweat and horses, and some part of me realizes I probably shouldn’t find that scent so comforting. Zarek grabs my arm again.

“Keep your hood up,” he whispers.

I pull the hood up. We emerge on the far side of the alley. Zarek keeps his head down as we thread through streets that get narrower and more choked with debris. Barefoot children run past us, screaming to each other. Stray cats flick their tails and narrow their eyes at us. Dogs bark from inside most of the buildings we pass.

Finally, Zarek turns down an alley and pulls me into a darkened stairwell. We descend, the low buzz of conversation growing thicker with every step. I have enough time to wonder if he’s going to sell me into a brothel when he pushes aside a tattered curtain, and we enter something that looks almost like the common room of an inn.

It’s smaller, darker, and smellier than any inn I’ve ever seen. Still, there’s a long bar at one end of the room and a collection of tables spread around a massive hearth. Zarek nods at the woman behind the bar, then leads me to a booth tucked into the far wall. He gestures for me to sit. I do, and he slides into the opposite side.

I raise my eyes, and the two of us regard each other in silence. I open my mouth to ask what he’s going to do with me now, but the words refuse to come.

The woman from behind the bar walks toward the table. She walks with a significant limp, and one of her eyes is milky white.

“The usual?” she asks in a grunt.

“Please,” Zarek replies.

A moment later, she smacks two foaming mugs down on the table. Zarek pushes one toward me, then lifts the other to his lips. I only hesitate for a heartbeat; it’s not even afternoon yet, but hells, it’s not like this is an ordinary day.

An acrid, bitter scent rises from the foamy ale in the mug. I hold my breath and take a sip.

I gag. Zarek sets his mug down. The ghost of a smile passes across his lips.

“Worst ale in the kingdom,” he whispers. “That’s why no one from the castle ever comes here.”

I stare at my mug. The foam has an oily sheen that makes my gut shift. Zarek takes another sip, then sets his mug down with a hollow thud.

“Do you love him?” he asks.