Amaskan's Blood, Raven Oak [read me a book .TXT] 📗

leave as well. Adelei stepped out from behind the crates and mimed taking a swig from the bottle. There were eyes on her, but she didn’t know if it was the Amaskan or someone else.

For all she knew, the apprentice was off checking her handiwork. She swallowed hard and wished the second swig of air she took from the bottle was something real, something potent to drown the confusion she felt.

Adelei stumbled further down the open road until she neared the inn’s stables, where she faked another drink of the “potent liquid” and tripped on a jagged piece of cobble with a loud belch. She allowed herself to stumble over her own feet before stopping in plain sight of the stable hands inside. “’Scuse me,” she muttered and followed it with a forced hiccup.

A stable hand no older than ten poked a bucktoothed head around the archway. His grin lacked intelligence, but one look at her demeanor and he returned to brushing a sable-colored mare. “Just a drunkard,” he called out to someone she couldn’t see, and she grinned beneath the façade.

Her fingers fumbled at the heavy wooden door, which she allowed to slam into her backside, and Adelei pitched forward. The few face down in their own ale paid her little mind. The barkeep glanced once at her and returned to pouring another glass for a bushy-haired man with cheeks as red as Adelei’s sash. Another mimed drink and another stumble as she reached the lip of the stairs. She continued her charade until she was safely in her own room and the door bolted shut behind her.

The window was closed and locked, just as she’d left it, and her saddlebags stowed under the crooked wooden-frame that served as a sad excuse for a bed. She shucked off her soft shoes in trade for her travel boots. Nothing else was unpacked—everything ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Adelei retrieved an extra throw blanket from the mouse-infested chair in the corner and stuffed it under the bed’s lone covering. It wouldn’t fool anyone at close glance, but it might slow someone down from a distance. She removed the bright sash and tossed it into her bag. If she had to, she’d leave it behind. Nothing in the travel bag would give away her identity, and everything inside could be replaced, though she winced at the thought of parting with her bracelet. It was a simple thing, woven of simple grasses in square patterns, but it was the only token that remained from her childhood, from her time before the Order.

The window opened easily and without sound, and she leaned out with a deep breath of air. She hiccupped again and allowed herself to drop the already broken bottle. It rolled down the sloped roof and shattered when it hit the cobbled street. “Oops.” she muttered and cast a glance at the streets below. If anyone noticed her “accident,” they didn’t give evidence to the fact, and she ducked back inside the window.

Her foot twitched. What could possibly be so wrong as to risk detection? Dammit, Bredych. Someone might have seen her leave and put two and two together.

Adelei leaned out the window again. Nothing moved. In the bar room downstairs, two men argued before falling into a raucous laughter. She held her bag out first and eased it down until it rested against the rooftop. When still nothing outside moved, she swung her legs over the window’s sill and lowered herself just as carefully until her rear rested against the wooden shingles. One foot at a time, she inched her way forward until she and her bag sat at the roof’s edge.

When a patron banged his way out of the inn, she clenched her hands into fists and held her breath until he’d moved a few buildings down. There were no doors on this side of the building. Only one lone window lay below, shuttered in preparation for the storm that loomed in the clouds overhead.

She had picked this night for the darkness. Because of the storm. She hadn’t thought she’d be traveling in it. Traveling now meant abandoning her horse, or she risked losing the drunkard pretense, but someone would retrieve the mare later when it was safe to do so. Another Amaskan. Possibly one of the merchants the Order dealt with regularly.

A gust of wind whipped a tree limb against the building, and she used the sound to cover the ones made when she dropped to the ground below. The bag landed before her, and she rolled when her feet hit the cobble. A stone dug into her shoulder, and she winced when she rose to her feet.

This better be important, Master. That’s going to bruise.

She traveled on foot until she reached the last farmhouse at the edge of town where she “borrowed” a horse and saddle from the sleeping family. Ten silver left behind in the stall would more than replace the old gelding, though she’d shorted them on the saddle. It was all she had, so it would have to be enough.

The spotted horse bore the muscles of a working farm horse, and she scratched him between the ears. You’re not exactly built for a fast run through a forest, but you’ll have to do.

Once saddled, she secured her bag and led him from his stall and out into the night air. He didn’t buck when she mounted him, though his gate shifted here and there, unsure of his new rider. Both Adelei and the horse eyed the forest. The clouds overhead didn’t rumble, not yet anyway, and she urged the horse forward and into the night.

Here’s hoping we aren’t seen, old boy. I don’t relish a run through the woods this evening.

CHAPTER TWO

The City of Alesta, Alexander; 255 Agaen 21st

Princess Margaret’s hand shook a moment before completing its movement toward the apple slice resting on the solid oak table in front of her. She stared at her father a moment longer before taking