“That was us escaping with our lives.”
“How did you—?”
“I’m not a witch,” she snapped, disliking the note of fear in his voice.
“It’s alright. You can trust me. I wouldn’t have turned you in, even if you hadn’t just saved me back there. Thank you,” he said. She wished she could read his face. “I think you’re right not to go to Feodail Hall. They may well be headed straight there.”
“Why?”
“They’ll be looking for someone. But don’t worry, Gwyn and the servants should be alright. They, at any rate, haven’t just threatened the lives of royal guards with magic.”
Her surprise at his knowing Gwyn was nothing to this revelation of who had been chasing them. “Royal guards?”
“Didn’t you notice their livery, black and green? But they won’t find who they’re looking for at Feodail Hall,” he muttered.
“But Gwyn rode out to the woods too. What if she . . .”
“She’s a sensible woman. There’s a good chance that she’ll either have got back to the hall or found a good place to hide. If you went about looking for her now, you might just get yourself and her into more trouble.”
There was sense to his words, though she felt sick at turning her back on Gwyn, not knowing if she was safe. In her anxiety over her, she had almost forgotten how angry she was with her. Almost.
“Have you someone else you can stay with for now?” he asked. “A friend in the village perhaps?”
She pictured Archie turning his back on her, reaching his front door, leaving the question of their friendship suspended in the air. “No. I don’t think so. Perhaps I can find an inn.”
“You have money?”
“No,” she replied, feeling somewhat stupid for not thinking of that.
“Look, I haven’t got a place of my own nearby but I know someone in Ciadrath. She’d let us stay at her house tonight. I trust her.”
“No offence intended but I don’t know who you are. How much can your trust of this woman mean to me?”
“That’s fair,” he said with a laugh. “You don’t have to come with me.”
She considered her options. “You’re sure she won’t ask awkward questions?”
“I’m sure she will. But she owes me a favour. I’m Aedan by the way,” he said, holding out his hand. “Aedan Baird.”
“Kaetha,” she said, shaking it.
Upon reaching a stream, they rode through it for some way so that if the guards followed their tracks in daylight or brought dogs to pick up their scent trail, they would struggle to find either. With still no sign of being followed, they let the horses drink before continuing.
Riding on, Kaetha strained to keep from closing her eyes for longer than a blink and her arms grew heavy. She found the level of her fatigue unnerving, like she was coming down with an illness. However, she grew more alert when Ciadrath came into view. It might be risky drawing close to the prying eyes of a city but amongst vast numbers it would hopefully prove easier to hide.
The citadel topped a hill which rose sharply from the northern bank of the River Eachburn, its distant torches like glowing specks of gold dust. The fortress glowered down at the city of Ciadrath which sprawled across a gentle hill on the southern bank. She stopped at the city gate set into the palisade which encircled the settlement like a wooden crown.
“That way will lead us straight to the Blue-caps,” said Aedan, “the guards of the city. Come on.” He led her further along until they reached a place where bushes and thistles grew as if they were bursting from the wall itself. Dismounting, they led their horses through the tangle of vegetation and, upon reaching the wooden posts, Kaetha was surprised to hear Aedan knock. He knocked the same rhythm of knocks again, then there was a creak. He led her through a hidden doorway. Coins chinked and a dark figure receded into the shadows.
The moonlight was bright on the rows of white painted houses. They passed a cluster of workshops smelling of wood, metal and sheep’s wool before turning down a street with houses packed together like crooked teeth. Some had upper storeys extending outwards so that each side of the street leant towards the other, as if the buildings themselves were spying on the neighbours.
They secured the horses in a communal stable and continued up the road. Kaetha stopped when Aedan grabbed her arm. She’d heard them too. Horsemen. He pulled her across the street and they ducked behind some large barrels. If she hadn’t known it was a tannery before, she would have then. She smelt leather from the yard behind and covered her nose from the smell of stagnant piss in the barrels. An open shutter above them cast a faint glow of light onto the street but they were able to shrink into the shadows.
The flicking tip of a cat’s tail from behind a barrel caught Kaetha’s eye and then a man came into view through a gap between barrels. His hair was strikingly dark, unlike most Dalrathans, but he wore the same livery of the other guards. She pressed closer to the wall, barely breathing.
“What was that sound?” said another man whom she hadn’t seen.
“We can’t stop for every rat and chicken,” said the dark haired one. “Let’s just get back to the citadel. She won’t be hidden here, if she’s in the city at all. Who would she know in this flea-ridden quarter?”
“I’m just going to check. I’m sure I heard something, near those barrels.”
Aedan unsheathed his dagger but Kaetha held his arm to restrain him. The cat’s tail twitched again and Kaetha picked up a spindly twig, waving it in front of the cat who pawed at it. Then she tossed the twig and the cat
