Chapter forty - one - Saving creatures, breaking hands

The streets fill up with people parading and spilling their ale on the ground while Freya and I push through. After the queen made the public announcement this morning about Darius, everyone assumed that it meant all the shifters would soon be captured too.

The irritation of hearing them cheer and shout "hang him!" welled up in my chest. I wanted to explode there and then, but Freya had to squeeze my hand for me not to do anything drastic. I'd already tried hard to ignore Lorcan since I arrived back at the barracks—even if part of me struggled to—and with the lack of sleep, one might assume I'm on the verge of collapsing.

"Nara, wait a moment." Freya tugs at my forearm from behind, and I stop to face her. She pants and drops her voice to whisper, "Do you not think informing the shifters of the Golden Thief—I mean Darius's capture might do more harm than good?"

When I told Freya last night everything that happened, she'd not expected Lorcan to have grown up with him, neither had I, and I'm not sure I can get used to it yet. She also found it hard to grasp why I was so resolute on getting Darius out. I understood her confusion. Darius's relationship with mine went from one extreme to the other. There was no in-between.

In the past, I'd have prayed upon this moment. Now, I have to tamp down my anger at the memory of that arrow in his chest.

*"You're just an asset to me."* Another memory I can't seem to shake off about him. I draw a sharp breath. "It won't be long before the news travels back to them."

"And then what?" She asks, biting her lower lip, wary coating her deep brown eyes. "We wait until the whole city burns down?" My nonresponse makes her raise her brows. "Don't tell me you're thinking about that."

I frown. "I'm not." Well, partly yes, it might have been a thought during the early hours of dawn until it became clear I was deliriously thinking. My frown smooths as I sigh. "But I do know who can help us... Leira."

Freya's forehead pinches, a few civilians knock into her, and I grab her hand before she can trip. Guiding her towards the entrance of the Draggards, I start to explain, "She's a witch, and for as long as Zerathion has existed, they are known to share a bond—a tether of some sort with shifters. She could perhaps talk to them."

Freya makes a whimpering sound. "But do we have to go back there? I had this strange sensation the last time I was in that room, and not to mention commoners all stared at us like they were ready to tie us to a wooden pole and burn us to death!"

Specific, dramatic, and the only words that can make me laugh at this moment in time. I cast her an amused look. "And you are someone who I've seen shoot arrows at targets with your eyes closed. We wouldn't be the ones burning to death."

She sucks in a breath, her obsidian curls plummeting over her shoulders as she kicks at the ground. And as I start dragging her through the cobbled roads, someone yells our names from behind.

It's not hard to tell who it is when you hear the names "Frey-Frey" and "Ambrose." Freya and I twist halfway as Rydan taps his foot on the ground, crossing his arms. Link bites at his nails beside him, looking half confused, half anxious.

"Well then." Rydan arches a brow. "I have to say you've offended us deeply, Ambrose."

I mimic his facial expression but more on the incredulous—what way did I offend you—type.

Rydan coughs, nudging his shoulder against Links. Link then stumbles forward and mutters, "I was dragged into this, I'm not entirely sure—"

"Link and I heard that you are the reason the Golden Thief got caught," Rydan interjects, and a sudden drop occurs in my stomach, making the food I'd consumed this morning a gurgling mess. I'd not had time to speak to Rydan or Link. They only knew I'd turned up safe, though I felt far from that. "Do you have any idea how frightening it was to inform everyone of dead bodies in the forests and that after the first search, you were missing? Then I come to find out you were with the thief, and right now I'm both madly jealous, and—"

"Can we perhaps withhold this conversation for another time?" Freya urges, and I can't agree more.

Rydan slowly raises his chin, and his brows draw inwards. "What are you two up to, and why are we—" He gestures a hand between him and Link. "—Not involved?"

Freya and I side glance at each other, aware that while I'd mentioned every little detail to her since the day after Noctura, Link and Rydan know nothing. Even with Freya, it took me a while to confess, and only because I detested how worried she was for me.

I realize, though, that Link and Rydan's thoughts on becoming a Venator weren't far off from my views—the recent ones, that is.

Restless at the idea that time is running out and the trials approaching in less than two weeks, I look over my shoulder, then at Link and Rydan. "Do you trust us?"

Link nods vehemently as Rydan dramatically raises his palm. "Ambrose, one day we will be wed, and you will become Nara Alderis. Of course, I trust you despite your murderous tendencies—"

I stare impassively at him, then turn away and ignore the last of his words as I stalk through the Draggards. I'd tell them after I achieved what I came here to do. Freya follows me, which leads Link and Rydan to do the same.

Women and men fix their glowering gazes on us. Some mutter things such as "Venator bastards" or "don't they get enough with extorting us for taxes?" I drown them out, darting my eyes to every stall and peeking my head above market tents until I spot a familiar stand nearing Leira's tavern.

I pause, and air leaves my lips in a sigh of relief at the orange fur coming into view. The brief sensation is overpowered with my blood boiling, though when I see Tibith in a small cage hanging off the hook above the roof tent.

Freya yells after me once I take off, and Tibith's eyes perk up with delight as he clutches the iron bars. "Miss Nara!" He squeaks.

"A Tibithian?" Rydan asks behind me, confusion lacing his voice, but I ignore it as I focus on Tibith. No Vendor is around, and four other cages hang from the tent: three goblins and one pixie, the size of my hand.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" My eyes hook on his in a promise.

He blinks nervously, nodding. "And—and Darry?"

I don't answer for a few seconds. My lips tug down before I try smiling. "Him too," I whisper though the disappointment on Darius's face last night still gnaws at me.

"You again?" A gruff voice says, and I turn my head to see Tig's glare on me. His crinkled eyes run over my attire, and then a thick laugh cracks out of him. "Well, this is a surprise turns out you're one of them."

I back away from Tibith's cage. Every step towards Tig is civil, even as his larger frame towers over me. "I want to take this Tibithian with me." My eyes shift to the set of keys jangling from his belt and back to him. "Please."

He scoffs, lines crease on his hairless head as he raises his brows. Crossing his arms, he gestures his head towards the end of the street. "He's not for sale."

None of these creatures should be. Guilt tries to wiggle its way back into my mind, knowing this is where Ivarron sent all the creatures I'd trapped for him. "He doesn't deserve to be here."

"Neither do you, so go on." Tig flickers his hand for us to head out, but none of us budge, and Tibith growls from inside the cage.

"Not without him," I say firmly. My patience hangs on a thin line.

"Or what?" He narrows his eyes like the thought of me standing my ground is humorous to him. "You and your little warriors will detain me?"

My gaze burns into him with unyielding fury, and my fingers twitch at my side, holding back from grabbing my dagger or strangling him.

Freya clears her throat softly and stands next to me, but I don't take my eyes off Tig, not for one second as she says, "We just want the Tibithian, so name your price, sir."

I detect the tremble in her voice, but Tig only laughs, shaking his head. "Venators like you are all the same. Treat us people from the Draggards as if we are filth and think you can get away with everything else."

"You shouldn't speak to her like that!" Tibith says, and Tig looks at him, pushing the cage, which causes Titbith to tumble backward. All my patience deteriorates, and my temper sparks.

"Get out of here, Venators—" Tig goes to shove me, but I seize his hand. My stare is ruthless as I snap his pinky in the opposite direction.

He lets out a silent yelp as I say, "I am not a Venator." I grab his thumb, bending it backward until bones snap, and I can hear Rydan and Link wince along with others looking our way. "And I plan to take every creature that you've trapped in these cages with me." My eyes jerk to a wide-eyed Freya and tip my head at the set of keys around Tig's belt. She nods, scrambling to get them as Tig looks at me, mortified. A glare tries to make way onto his face, but it's impossible when I push another finger of his and grit, "So I suggest you shut down this business of yours indefinitely."

Once Freya unlocks all the cages, the creatures step out, coming behind me. I thrust Tig's hand away, and he staggers, clutching his wrist as he stares at the awkward position his fingers are all in.

"Have a wonderful evening." Threat lines under my deceptive calmness, and I don't waste my time listening to his insults as I spin, facing a smiling Tibith, a pale-faced Link and Rydan, and the creatures looking up at me in awe. The pixie flies over to my shoulder. Her blue skin glistens like droplets of water as she whispers a thank you in my ear.

I smile but can't help let it slip into a solemn glance before I heave a breath and say, "Let's go." I walk between Rydan and Link, with Freya catching up to me. I lift my eyes at the sign of the Crescent Eye and pick up my pace. When I reach the door, I notice such silence come from within. "Both of you stay here." I glance over at Link and Rydan, and immediately they frown.

"I don't—"

"I need lookouts," I cut Rydan off, drawing a brow up at him. Already showing up with Creatures to Leira's might make things questionable. I had too much to explain to her, to Rydan, Link.

I have the feeling that I'm running out of time, and in some ways, I am.

Before Rydan opens his mouth to protest, I enter with Freya and the creatures inside the tavern, slowing to a stop when I see what is in front of me.

Tables knocked over, shards of glass scatter the wooden flooring, and not a single soul is in sight.

"What in Solaris and Crello's world..." Freya whispers.

Tibith climbs up my leg and sits by my shoulder. "Everything is broken, Miss Nara!"

I know.

Dread pounds against my head, and I slide the dagger Idris gave me from my thigh. The twin blades unsheathe as I press my fingers under the trigger point. Freya lurches back, and all except Tibith gasp.

I creep across the tavern, cautious of the crunching glass under my boots while Tibith slides down and curls into a ball.

Moving the ripped drape aside, I enter Leira's room, and I meet with the same mess. Jars smashed on the ground, and the table I'd sat at with Leira overturned.

My throat closes, and I think of the worst until a soft voice says my name from the side.

It's Leira crouching on the floor, dusting off dirt from books. Aelle is behind her, cleaning the rest of the room.

"Leira," I breathe, sheathing my blade back in and rushing to her. I grab her arms, helping her up as Freya does the same with Aelle. "What happened?"

Her face flushes in fear amongst the dimness. "Venators raided the place a few hours ago. We didn't get here until after."

Venators... hearing that alone makes my body stiffen.

"Why did they raid the place?" Freya asks as she steps over a piece of wood and picks up a few jars, trying to clear the place. "Did they have a reason for it?"

Darius is what first comes to mind, but how? He'd never mentioned Leira, unless somehow—

Bile fills at the back of my throat, wondering if the queen had managed to get answers out of him, but Leira banishes that thought when she shakes her head and says, "The barmaid said they came in search of all the witches living in the Draggards, they wanted to know if we'd worked for the Golden Thief. Apparently, he's used glamour to wander around the city at times."

As Archer.

I exasperate, not knowing where to go from here, before Leira's eyes flicker over my shoulder and her brows pucker. "Who are these—"

Glancing behind, I answer, "Creatures I salvaged."

The goblins nervously blink their glossy eyes and then Tibith's feet patter towards my side, smiling. "Hello there, Miss!"

Leira's frown turns into peculiar amusement, and I let go of her arms, taking a step back. Freya and Aelle continue to salvage what was not damaged, but I focus on what needs to be done. This place is no longer safe for Leira or Aelle, and their cottage likely could be the same.

My sigh alerts Leira to shift her gaze at me. "Look, I need your help," I say.

Based on the sleepless night I've had, I can imagine I already look rough, but Leira detects my worrying emotions and clasps both her hands around mine, bringing it to her chest. "Anything."

Perturbation ripples off me and onto her. I'd not had much affection apart from my brothers since my parent's death. But then I came here and found Freya, Leira...

My breath quivers as I inhale, and I tell her everything I can remember. The attack, the creature, how Darius took me to the shifter's den, and I hated it because I enjoyed every minute, every second of it until Darius pushed me, letting that arrow hit him.

I'm panting by the end, describing the shock of Lorcan and Darius's history before finishing with what I have chosen to do.

It's so quiet even with Freya and Aelle cleaning in the background, the shattered glasses scraping the wood, books hissing as they pick them up. Leira finally sighs, lowering her gaze as well as her hands. "Nara, this is you risking—"

"Please, Leira." Desperation reeks off me, but I don't care. "I can do this and—and—" I glance at Tibith for a second. "—Tibith can take you to the den."

Tibith peers up at me, a nod followed by a smile, and I return it just as I look at Leira again. "You just need to hold the shifters off for a little while until I sort a way to get Darius out."

Tibith would be protected, Leira, Aelle, and the other creatures, at least for now.

"What about your brothers?" Wariness floods her eyes as my heart caves in; it might as well grind into dust.

They were the first thing I thought about as soon as I returned, Idris had mentioned they would be back to watch the trials, but that was another added issue to the many I had going on right now. "I'll handle it when they come." A further promise that I will not let anything happen to them.

Leira bites her lip, glancing at Aelle behind her, who simply gives her an encouraging nod. "Alright, I'll—"

"What's this?"

We turn our heads to Freya, holding a large leather bind book. Amethysts adorn the center of the cover as she narrows her eyes at it.

"My sister's grimoire," Leira answers. "I haven't taken it out in so long. It was in one of our cupboards. She'd given it to me to look after before she—" A deep pause. I understand this is already a difficult topic for her. "—Left."

Freya doesn't take her eyes off the Grimoire, and a certain suspicion within me makes my head tip to the side.

She goes to flip the cover, but Leira says, "Do not bother child, only witches are able to open a grimoire and read the magic of it, it's—"

The words trail from Leira's lips, and shock slams into me. My eyes widen as Freya opens it up with ease, and I look at Leira. Her mouth parts, and even Tibith murmurs something.

Only witches are able to open a grimoire. And Freya had opened it.

"Brigid," Freya whispers to herself, running her fingers across the cursive writing.

It's only a second but a second in which it takes me to realize what this could mean. I slowly make my way toward her, extending my hand out to ensure she's okay. "Freya?"

Her eyes start skimming wildly across the Grimoire and then looks up at Leira, the warmth of her bronze skin dulling. "Where is your sister now?"

Leira hesitates to answer for a minute before whispering, "She died... 17 years ago."

Freya's mother died when she was three years old...

I gulp, and Freya trips on her feet, her breaths ragged as she glances between us all before dropping the Grimoire. The thud echoes the walls as she storms out in a frenzy with me yelling her name. I turn to Tibith, telling him to make sure they all make it to the den safely while Aelle holds onto a stunned Leira just as I run out of the room in pursuit of Freya.