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****
It wasn’t as if she had money, or any other connections she could turn to. The only people in Yafae she had met without Aric’s introduction were the ones he’d rescued her from in Corast months before. What she had was a suitcase full of magically compressed clothes, a smaller second case for her similarly compressed meager shoe collection, magical skill, and desperation.
Well…
Those were the things that might prove useful.
She did have one more thing. Something she was both crushingly familiar with and yet which was completely, achingly new.
For a moment, maybe three, she had been so blissfully relieved when Aric had saved her from Cecilia’s rampaging attack. It was a moment that had quickly faded, a relief that quickly slipped into devastating realization.
That specific fight was over, and she believed none of the others held her responsible. But there was a difference between blaming someone and resenting someone. Rochelle had become the reason—or at least the face of the reason—their dear friend and cousin was in jail. She was the reason Cecilia seemed to have had a break with her sanity. No matter how irrational it was, sooner or later they were bound to feel like they were the guilty parties by associating with her despite Cecilia’s feelings.
Rochelle didn’t want to be the wedge that sparked ill feelings between friends or family members. She didn’t want to disrupt a friendship that had lasted so long. If it was proven true that Cecilia had kept hidden some crucial detail of their other friend’s tragic death, that was something the group of them would need to hash out. But it wasn’t her place.
Even though she’d come to see Mitzi, Darnel, and Viveca as good friends, it was clear her time in their company had ended. She was sad about that. Sadder still because their warmth and laughter had helped tremendously in dealing with Bridget’s passing.
The hardest part, however, came in forcing herself to leave Aric. The man who had saved her now multiple times. The man who had stepped up for her and taught her everything she could need to be a functioning adult in this magical society. The man who had stolen her heart, perhaps the very moment he’d offered her his home. Certainly, after so many months, there was no denying she had fallen in love with him. Like the fool she was. The only thing worse than letting herself fall for the Sentry of Yafae was finally accepting the depths of her feelings for him on the very night she realized it was time for her to go.
I will never not be an idiot.
Maybe she should have worked harder to keep an emotional distance from him. Hadn’t she always known they would part ways sooner or later? Though she hadn’t exactly thought it would happen under these sorts of circumstances.
Her foot slipped on a rock and she cried out, having to catch herself with a cushion of air to keep from crashing onto the unforgiving ground. But it was a good reminder that she needed to pay more attention, no matter how hungry or tired or heartbroken she was. She was too broke and too conspicuous to have hired transportation from Emyr to Caram. Which meant a roughly estimated two-day walk, if she maintained a steady pace and a fairly straight easterly trajectory.
Caram was entirely unfamiliar to her, of course. She’d learned about it while she was educating herself on Yafaen culture and perusing maps in Aric’s library. It was the second largest city in the kingdom, next to the capital, and supposedly not an uncommon landing spot for motivated refugees. She hoped the sheer size and elevated population of non-native Yafaens would help her blend in and disappear from anyone searching for her, if Denham really was that interested. It was probably not the best, most effective solution to the problem, but it was the best she could think up in the handful of hours she’d had.
A chill wind blew through the trees that helped to obscure her from anyone traveling on the roadway she was attempting to keep parallel to, and Rochelle wrapped her arms around herself. She’d gotten a few fitful hours of sleep before slipping out in the cover of darkness, knowing her chances decreased the moment the sun crested the horizon. But she was tired. Sore. Thirsty.
She reached up and smacked herself in the face, the sound echoing in the early evening air. “Stop that,” she told herself firmly. Her voice was a little hoarse from lack of use and hydration. The latter of which would be a problem if she slowed too much and didn’t reach her destination by the end of the next day.
There was nothing she could do, responsibly, to fix that or any of her other real problems in the moment. She would walk until she lost the sunlight completely, when the canopy of forest trees made it too dark to safely push ahead. At which point, she would nestle herself against one with her bags at her side and extract her one blanket—the one thing she’d taken that she wasn’t sure was supposed to be hers—for warmth. If it got too cold, she would infuse it with a tiny amount of magic, but only what was necessary. She wanted to conserve as much of her strength as she could, since she didn’t know what the next few days would bring.
It didn’t get as cold as she’d feared, thankfully, and though she didn’t sleep well, she hadn’t been forced to expel unnecessary magic, either. Except to heal the blisters on her feet in the morning, but that was expected, and thanks to all of Aric’s training, an easy task. Then it was a matter of remembering how she’d arranged herself in order to remember which direction to continue and gathering her internal strength to resume the journey she’d set herself on.
Another day’s hard, likely unforgiving, walk lay ahead.
There was plenty of time to get lost in thought.
Plenty of time to wonder if, someday, she would be grateful to have at least briefly known what romantic love felt like. She had loved Bridget, certainly. Bridget had been as important to her as most people held their siblings or parents. Rochelle hadn’t been so lucky in that regard. She recalled loving her grandfather, but she’d lost him years earlier, and had been afraid to let herself grieve him in front of her father.
The clop-clopping sound of semi-distant horse hooves drew her focus, and Rochelle stilled for a moment, before ducking herself against the nearest tree and angling to see the road. The sun was almost at its peak already, but apparently travel between cities wasn’t nearly so common as in her former world. She’d only seen a handful of hovairs since setting off for Caram.
This one didn’t look like anything special, lacking any detailed ornamentation that might indicate nobility ownership. It was average sized and pulled along by two strong, almost frolicking horses. She would have called them mustangs in another life. They continued past her without a care, the driver not seeming to notice her presence—not that he should have, as she was a distance from the roadway. What kept her watching was when the hovair turned, curving distinctly to the right before quickly beginning a descent out of sight.
Rochelle stared after them, then looked up at the sky as if it would tell her anything different. Of course. She was standing in a forest, why hadn’t she considered that that meant she was actuallyona mountain?
She took a deep breath and continued forward. It was no big deal. What was a little decline on an empty stomach and the equivalent of one night’s sleep in the past three?If I die out here, at least Denham won’t get to me.Aric’s disappointed frown immediately flashed through her mind’s eye and she swallowed hard.
Even if she could never see him again, she also couldn’t insult him or his efforts by giving up like the meek, spiritless woman she’d been before they’d met.
****
“My apologies, Lord Vardanyan,” the guard at the prison said as he bent forward at the shoulders. “Lady Rey was released late yesterday afternoon.”
Aric frowned, his brow furrowing in time to a displeased exhale.
Beside him, Darnel asked, “What do you mean, released?” The shock in his tone was palpable. “I brought her in and explained the charges myself. Why was I not notified?”
