Chapter Thirteen: A dagger to the heart

Baila

I waited

Not because I had to but because I wanted to.

The castle bell had rung for midnight and Sara had not come to see me yet. I wondered if it was because Sara was angry with me or because she was not yet back from the tavern..

I should not have gone to the lake. I should have offered to stay in the apothecary with Sara and watch her grind her herbs but instead, we had gone swimming.

Naked.

I told herself that I only wanted to give Sara the due respect by bidding her farewell before I made my escape. Yes. That was simply it. It was not because I wanted to see the red haired woman again or embrace her and tell how much I would miss her.

No.

I was simply being respectful by waiting.

A few minutes past minute, I decided to damn my respect and leave. My chances of escaping were growing slimer by the minute and as much as I wanted to, I could not afford to wait anymore. I walked towards my bedroom window, the one that faced the very tree Samani had told me about.

Even as I climbed out the window, I kept glancing at my bedroom door, hoping that Sara would burst through and I would catch a glimpse of her bright green eyes before I left but the royal physicial never showed.

She did not show when I jumped from the window to tree.

She did not show when I clung to the tree for dear life

And she most certainly did not show up when I glanced up at my bedroom window one final time before making a run for it.

I gasped, holding my hand to my chest at the sight of Samani, the witch maid.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, irritated that my plan to escape had been rudely interrupted.

Samani’s hazel eyes twinkled with mischief as she glanced at my bedroom window which was high up and then at me who was shivering from fear and the cold.

“I was not going to let you esca---”

”You told me to use the tree,” I cut in. Surely, Samani was not insinuating that she had set me up and that she was not going to let me leave. I was ready to fight for my freedom. I reached up my hand to touch the necklace around my neck, ready to rip it off. Samani was a witch like me and she might not have had the gift to control fire or move things with her mind like other witches did but she was a seer which meant that she would see every one of my attacks coming and so, I needed all the power I could get, all the strength I could muster.

Even if I lost, I would not be easily subdued.

“There will be no need for that,” Samani chuckled, eyeing my necklace. “You can’t go through the main gates, there are guards stationed there. I’m only here to walk you to the servants’ gates. You’ll find no man on guard over there. It’s an easy way…….” she paused, her eyes twinkling again. “Unless you prefer to fight the guards at the gates?”

I scowled. I could not put my finger on it but for some reason, Samani got under my skin. She irritated me to no limit. “Servants gates,” I hissed, bumping shoulders with Samani as I walked past her.

True to her words, Samani walked me to the servants gates without another word and I was abundantly grateful for the silence no matter how tense I felt because the one thing everyone hated about seers was their mouth.

Once they reached the gates, Samani smiled at me. “You will be back before dawn,” she said, boredom coating her every word. It was as if she was talking to her child, telling the child for the fourth time that the fire they were playing with would burn them.

I didn’t like it. I huffed, marching out the gates. “Like hell I will,” I muttered under my breath.

I didn’t know how long I had been walking for, I could not remember the turns I made or the paths I took. All I knew was that I was lost. I stumbled, tripping over my own feet as I made a turn down a dark path which opened up into a huge square, brimming with old brick structures and spitting labourers.

From whores in silk, calling to men and cart pushers yelling out their frustrations, from the noisy bars to the late night traders with weak wooden tables selling perfumes with promises of finding true love, I guessed where I was.

I was in a market square of some sort.

I slowed down my pace, observing the people around, their laughter, their anger. I took it all in, from the fragrant smell of perfume to the stench of rotten meat and sweating people. I slowed down because I had not come up with what to do next or where to go. Initially, I had thought that I would have come up with a brilliant plan by the time I left the castle and I had tried.

As I took winding paths and made guesses on the road to take and what not to take, I had thought long and hard, fleeting from one plan to another, turning over every stone but I came up with nothing.

The only conclusion I made was that if Nolan did not kill me, my own mother would if I returned to our hidden village.

But one thing bothered me. In fact, it kept me awake, gnawing at me.

Why hadn’t the king sent out men to arrest me?

Why hadn’t he sent out word for my head?

Had the prince survived somehow?

It was impossible.

He had stopped breathing, I had snapped his neck. There was no way he could have survived. And even if he had survived, the king would never let me go free for injuring his only heir. Never.

I coughed as air flew out of me, I had bumped into an old man pulling a cart behind him.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, forcing a smile I did not feel.

The old man’s silver eyes met mine and they went wide with fear as they landed on the necklace I wore.

I froze.

Could he know what I was? He couldn’t.

His mouth opened and he screamed as he grabbed onto my arm in a painful hold.

“Witch! The red witch has come to kill us all!”

“No..no….no…” I choked, looking around desperately, my vision was blurry from tears as a crowd gathered around us, watching. Murmuring.

“I’m not……I’m……not……I” I stammered, breathing hard as a weight landed on my chest. I tried to beg. I tried to break free of his hold and run but for an old man, he was strong.

Tears poured down my cheeks as I struggled the old man’s hold.

He pushed me to the ground, pulling out a dagger from his cloak. He aimed for my heart.

I looked up at him, frightened. In that moment, I whispered, broken.

“I don’t want to die,”

It happened quickly.

One minute, I was on the ground about to be killed for what I was and the next, my hunter, the old man was on the ground, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

His neck had been ripped out.

My eyes went wide as I touched my necklace. I was still wearing it. I didn’t kill him. Sobs of relief wracked my body and I held my hand to my mouth.

I had almost died.

The crowd stood still, silent.

The man who had saved me by killing my assailant, turned to face the crowd, a huge piece of flesh in his bloody hand, his mouth was bloody and so was his jaw and neck. There was blood on his fine black tunic as well.

I studied him.

He had messy black hair--dark like midnight. His bronze skin was too beuatiful and his eyes were a sharp ruby red colour. When he smiled, he had dimples. The man cocked his head at me, regarding me with a predatory look in his eyes.

My heart fluttered.

I was scared, intrigued and mesmerized at the same time.

Finally, he looked away from me to face the crowd.

“Would anyone like to be next?” he asked aloud. His accent was smooth, polished and it sent chills down my spine. I was still trying to figure out whether the chills were good or bad when the crowd scurried away, muttering loudly.

The man squatted in front of me, his red eyes searching mine. He tossed the flesh aside and smiled, revealing a sharp set of fangs.

“You’re a pretty thing,” he said. “what is your name?”

“I’m….I’m….Baila,”I stuttered.

His smile grew bigger, deadlier. “I’m Salem”