Wyatt waits with Misty at the edge of the garden, saddled and ready to go. He silently walks with me to the bridge.It’s most unnerving, Wyatt has always been the type to break awkward silences.
Horrifying screams echo along the quiet streets of town.Any means necessary.
Each scream nips at my skin, leaving small marks of guilt. Reminders of every single female suffering at the hands of Zury guards on my behalf. A shame I will have to live with, allowing this to happen.
I could stop it. I could surrender.But I don’t have the strength to be their saviour.
Wyatt wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes tight. Clawing at his arms I gasp for breath. “Are you trying to kill me?” I splutter.
“Sorry. I’m gonna miss you,” Wyatt says, clearing his choked-up voice.
“Well, there’s something I never thought I’d hear from you,” I joke as I tuck my backpack into one of Misty’s saddle bags.
Wyatt shoves me.“I’m serious, Andi. Take care of yourself.”
“I will. Promise,” I say, tightly gripping his hand, I pull him in again. “I’m going to miss you so much. Look after yourself, please.” He nods, blinking back tears.
The disturbance in town is so deafening that neither of us hears the crunch of footsteps behind us until it’s too late.
“Oi, where do you two think you’re going?”
As two guards approach us, hands resting on the hilt of their swords as they flank us, my head whips around. One guard reaches for Misty’s reins. My mind races, knowing I could never get past, the road is too narrow, and they have positioned themselves to block me regardless.Instead, I smile and plead ignorance, like nothing is wrong. Today is a normal day.
“Oh, hi there, we’re just about to leave, got some trade in Zephyr.” I feign a smile. Giving Wyatt a knowing look, he nods along, but his fists tighten beside me.
“Is that so?” one guard asks, looking at the other holding Misty’s reins. “Well, we don’t want to hold you up.” He looks me up and down. “You can be on your way as soon as you prove you have no markings on your back. Everyone has to comply.”
“She’s already been checked by one guard at the town square. Big guy, bald?” Wyatt snaps at the guards.
“Ah, you’ve met Terry.”
“Yeah, that’s him, nice guy,” he says through gritted teeth. “So, if you don’t mind us, we’ll be on our way.” Wyatt gestures to the side. I try to walk with Misty, but the guard keeps his grip on her reins.
He flashes me a toothless smile. “Never heard anyone describe Terry as ‘nice’ before.” He laughs, walking around Misty. “Don’t make this difficult, lovely.”
Both guards take a step forward, cornering me in. Wyatt throws a punch, landing on the closest guard’s jaw, knocking him to the ground.
“Run!”
I freeze in place. Wyatt swings at the second guard, but is met with the butt of his sword, and Wyatt collapses to the ground, blood oozing from his head. The guard turns his attention to me.
Willing my legs to move, I sprint as fast as I can. Looking back sorrowfully at Wyatt, and Misty, who takes off directly for home. I stumble as I hurry along the cobblestoned streets, tumblinginto boxes piled high outside houses. Folk loiter, gossiping about the guards and who they might be looking for. The chatting stops as I hurtle down the road. Townsfolk watch two guards chasing me, yelling for me to halt. More guards turn their attention to me running from their comrades.
Crap.
Splinters dig into my skin as I grip hold of a door frame and soar around the corner into a small lane between houses. With nowhere to go, I duck behind a fence, hiding behind wooden crates.Guards follow me into the lane, searching around the yards.
At the door, the tenant appears curiously, taking in my disgruntled appearance. I beg him with my eyes to remain quiet.
He yells at the guards to get out of his garden, waiting for them to leave, and motions for me to come out. Hesitantly, I do, making sure no other guards are around. I nod in thanks to the man and peek around the fence before sneaking along the path.
I tug the hood down over my head, tucking in my hair. Watching each step I take, I make my way down the road towards the blacksmith’s. Sticking to the alleys, hiding behind boxes, and opening doors.
Words fail me as I reach the square. Females are lined up and shepherded into a pen like cattle. I watch in horror as scared women shakily pull down their tops, tunics, or dresses to show that their shoulders have no marks.Most do so voluntarily, showing their bare skin, knowing they have nothing to hide. Some women refuse, preferring to keep their dignity, but are then met with a sword pummelling off their face, breaking a nose or jaw. Neither gets away with it. If they are amenable, the guards take the ‘opportunity’ to lay their hands on the women, feigning consent. If they refuse, the guards make them comply.
I wince every time a whip cracks or a bone crunches beneath the pummel of a sword. The crying is ear-splitting, the shrieksheart-breaking.I swallow the lump that’s growing in my throat and blink away tears, forcing myself on.
Another nip at my skin, each mark named for each female being hurt because of me.They want me, and because they haven’t yet found me, they beat and humiliate these innocent women. What can I do for them? Nothing, without damming myself. I’m torn between wanting to help them and keeping myself safe from their claws.