“HERE WE ARE,” the old woman said. “I’ve two spare rooms. Bigger than what most people have here. It’s just me now. My family’s gone. I’ve some skills so they’ve allowed me this luxury.”
A room to myself would be a step above sleeping in trees or buried deep in shrubs or the occasional cave. And yet not being close to Fowler anymore would be strange. I didn’t know if I would feel entirely safe without his steady breath beside me.
“My name is Mirelya,” the old woman added.
Fowler made a small sound that I took for agreement. “Thank you, Mirelya. We won’t be here long.”
I immediately evaluated my surroundings, measuring the airflow, sensing obstructions, estimating the room’s width and length. I processed it all, my measurements clicking through my mind like dominoes dropping into position. I had a fairly good sense of where the walls ended and began. My boots thudded lightly over the plank flooring. The front window was open, its leather draping flapping lightly in a breeze, letting in a gust of wind that smelled pungent, ripe with the scent of dwellers gathered below the village.
Somewhere, a few houses over, a baby cried. It was strange hearing that sound and knowing it for what it was without having ever heard it before. A baby alive amid all this made tears burn at the backs of my eyes. This place could have been my sanctuary. High in the trees, it could have been an echo of the life Perla and Sivo described to me. The kind of life my parents had lived. Free. The king’s decree made that impossible, of course. Plus Fowler would never stay here. His dream was Allu.
The gentle aroma of candle wax weaved with the warm, yeasty scent of bread. I inhaled deeply, reveling in it. It smelled like home. I brushed my fingers along the back of a chair, thinking of Sivo and Perla, hoping they were well.
“I am certain you desire to leave with all haste.” Mirelya laughed then, a full-bodied laugh that cracked like dry leaves underfoot and ended in a hacking cough.
I winced. “Are you well? Do you need some water?” There was a pitcher on the table, crisp water within it.
“I’m fine. Older than I have any right to be. I’ve buried two husbands and four children, but somehow I’m still here. If I’m lucky, my time will come soon enough.”
I shifted on my feet awkwardly, uncertain how to respond to that. I hoped that if I had such a long life, my years would consist of more than a constant fight to stay alive.
I cleared my throat, thinking I should probably say something. Fowler wasn’t the most talkative sort, but some manner of acknowledgment should be given to this woman for stepping forward and offering her home to us. “Well, it’s very kind of you to welcome us into your—”
“Kind is right. With girls getting their heads taken these days, I expect not everyone would be as understanding to discover that you’re female and not a boy at all.”
I froze. Even my chest ceased to lift with breath.
Fowler stiffened beside me. The moment stretched forever. I risked movement, raising my arm as though to touch Fowler, but he stepped forward suddenly, closer to Mirelya. My hand fell back to my side, fingers curling inward, brushing my palm.
“What?” he demanded. “You think he’s a . . . girl—”
“No use making a grand show of denying it. I knew the moment she walked off the lift.” Her no-nonsense voice rang out. “Just as I expect it’s never far from your mind either, eh? Is it?”
I frowned, not sure what she was implying. Of course Fowler was aware that I was a female.
Mirelya laughed. “Oh. Still dancing around the obvious, are we? Young people. You behave as though you have all the time in the world for matters of the heart.”
Shaking my head, I grumbled, “You make no sense.”
“Look at his face. He understands me well enough,” she said smugly, a hum of laughter in her voice.
“Your vision must be impaired, old woman. This is my brother.”
“Now you’re just being insulting. Shall I step outside and gather other opinions? We can settle this entire matter by asking her to disrobe.”
My heart jerked in my chest.
Fowler inhaled. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. I felt its vibration pass through me like my own breath. He was beaten and worried. Maybe even afraid for me. Fowler, who never seemed rattled by anything. This only made me more on edge.
I turned my attention back to Mirelya, the woman who held my fate. One signal, one word from her, and my head would be separated from my body. A shuddery breath passed through my lips. Perhaps it was already inevitable.
“What now?” I asked. “Will you tell?”
“Telling gets me nothing. What’s one month’s rations? My time here is almost over. I need little food these days.”