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A tear squeezes free of my eye, catching in the mask. I freeze in the doorway. I can’t go out like this. Not in the sunlight.
I can’t go after him.
Idrop in the doorway of the workshop. Something in my chest gives way, and suddenly I’m crying into my skirts, shuddering against the doorway.
He’s going to find me like this, and I’ll never hear the end of it.
I’ll take his teasing, and gladly, if he could just appear.
Please, Wes. I don’t realize I’ve whispered the words until I hear my shaking voice. Please, Wes.
He doesn’t appear. Sunlight streaks through the woods.
I can’t keep sitting here in the doorway. We’re in a remote part of the forest, but hunters and trappers aren’t completely foreign in this area.
I jerk the hat off and tuck it down in my bag. I use the mask and some of the boiled water to scrub the kohl off my cheeks and eyes. I rebraid my hair and straighten my skirts, then tuck away the medicine, the bowls, and the kettle under the floorboards.
Please, Wes.
I hesitate in the doorway.
Nothing.
Maybe he had to run back to his forge. Maybe he couldn’t risk coming this way. Tomorrow morning he’ll be waiting with a good story for me.
“What was that?” he’ll say, teasing. “I was right? We should have waited a few days?”
My throat refuses to loosen. My chest is caught in a vise grip.
I can’t stay here. Mistress Solomon will be waiting for me. Karri will know something is wrong. My eyes feel raw.
I walk, forcing my pace to remain sedate. Just a girl out for a walk in the Wilds, heading to work early. No one of importance. I keep my ears open for the night patrol, but the city is beginning to come to life around me as I near more populated areas, and suddenly, I’m not at risk.
A woman and her daughter are hanging laundry between two trees, and I catch a few of their words as I pass. The girl shakes out a pair of trousers and hands them up to her mother. “Da said the prince is going to leave the body hanging there until he catches them all.”
“He can hang up all he likes,” says the woman. “You keep your eyes on your tasks. Those outlaws have nothing to do with us.”
“Yes, Ma.”
The prince is going to leave the body hanging there.
“You lost, girl?”
I jerk my head up. I’ve stopped, my hand braced against a tree. The woman is peering at me. I need to keep walking. I need to get out of here.
“The prince caught an outlaw?” I say, and my voice breaks.
“It’s none of our business,” she says curtly, but her daughter steps forward and says, “Yes! My da said they hung him from the gates, but he wouldn’t let me see—”
I run. My feet dig into the path as I sprint for the gates to the Royal Sector, skidding around trees. I can’t breathe. I can’t stop. People are staring, looking up in surprise as I tear through the Wilds. Someone is going to grab me, to stop me, to announce that I’m not where I’m supposed to be.
No one does. And suddenly, I’m there, at the gates.
The girl was right. There’s a body, hanging by its neck, the head hanging crooked. The face is bloated and purple, the clothing dark.
There’s a mask across his face. A hat I know so well. A pack I’ve seen a hundred times strapped across his chest.
Atreble hook hangs from the rope knotted around his hand, swinging gently in the breeze.
