Chapter 22:

  Cellmate

  The Guard Captain led Rolin and I unceremoniously through the bustling streets, our hands bound in simple shackles. The judging eyes of passersby weighed heavily upon us, their murmurs buzzing like a swarm of distant bees. Ariel had begged to accompany us as a witness, in order to speak on my behalf, but the guards had denied her request without a second thought.

  “I’ll be alright,” I called out to her, doing my best to sound confident. “Just take care of whatever shopping you need to do, and I’ll look for you this afternoon.”

  “Ok! If I don’t see you by sundown, I’ll let Grandpa know what happened.”

  As Ariel’s voice called back to me, I could feel Rolin’s gaze burn into me. His jealous rage barely held back by the guards leading him by his chains.

  “You just wait till this is settled,” he growled. “I’ll be sure to get you back for this.”

  “Silence,” the Guard Captain snapped, his voice cracking like a whip between us.

  At his command, I turned away from Rolin, choosing instead to admire the buildings surrounding me. This wasn’t the most flattering way to be introduced to the city, but I supposed it was better than nothing.

  The buildings rose no higher than three stories, most constructed from worked stone reinforced with dark wooden beams. Their black slate roofs gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, edges dulled and pitted by years of salty coastal air.

  I did my best to take note of several shops throughout the city, but the hurried pace of the guards made it difficult to focus on anything but the road at my feet. Our feverish pace continued through the busy streets, until we finally arrived at the western gate.

  Its stone walls loomed like a silent guardian against the rugged mountains beyond. The manor had been built as a final stronghold in times of crisis, the mountains behind it forming an unyielding barrier to any landward assault, while the sheer cliffs on the seaward side completed its natural defense.

  Arriving at the gates, our group was ushered through with little complication as the Guard Captain commanded those on watch to open the gates. Several men saluted as the Captain complimented their work, earning him several grateful nods from the guards on duty.

  The path up to the Duke’s manor was simple and efficient. There were two gated walls with a simple stone path that stretched between them. After we were cleared through the second gate, we were finally escorted before the Duke’s estate; The shift from militaristic functionality to opulent beauty was staggering. It was like stepping from the front lines of a war zone directly into an enchanted garden.

  Trimmed hedges, blooming flowers, and expertly crafted statues spread out in all directions, their vibrant colors were a stark contrast to the gray stone beyond. It was evident that the gardens wrapped around the several story manor, and were being cared for by several gardeners that worked amongst the blooming flowers.

  The Guard Captain led us toward the cliffside edge of the manor, then down a narrow flight of stone steps carved directly into the rock. At the bottom, a reinforced metal door awaited, its surface weathered and scarred by age. Beyond it lay an expansive holding area lined with rows of cells, each divided by thick iron bars that glinted dimly in the torchlight.

  “You two will wait here until Duke HighTower has finished addressing his public appointments for the afternoon. After which, he will hold court for the two of you.”

  The Captain handed us off to the guards waiting below, giving them a crisp salute before taking his leave.

  I was then led into a cell of cold, worked stone, its front enclosed by thick iron bars. In the far corner, a figure sat curled beneath a tattered cloak, their face lost to shadow.

  The stone bench opposite them was unoccupied, so I lowered myself onto it and tried to settle in. Leaning back against the wall, I let out a slow breath and began replaying the events of the morning in my mind.

  It was impossible to tell how much time passed, as the daylight from outside failed to make its way through the doors leading into the dungeon. Rune lamps were placed periodically around the fairly large room, which gave just enough light to keep an eye on the prisoners within it’s walls.

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  As I waited, I couldn’t help but notice my cellmate stealing the occasional glance in my direction. After catching them staring for what must have been the tenth time, irritation finally got the better of me.

  “Can I help you with something?” I asked.

  The figure flinched at the sound of my voice, clearly not expecting to be addressed so directly.

  “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

  The voice was timid and light, sounding as though it belonged to a young woman. “It’s just…a you’re covered in blood.”

  I glanced down at myself and realized how insane I must have looked. “Oh. Right, sorry about that. Had a bit of a run in with the guard earlier. He gave me a poke with his spear, but I managed to patch it up just fine.”

  I tried to sound casual, approachable even, but my words didn’t have the effect I’d hoped for. The stranger responded by sliding a little further into the corner of the cell.

  “A healer? You don’t look like a priest.”

  “Well, that’s because I’m not one. Until recently, I was just a farmer.”

  The young woman didn’t respond right away. She sat in silence for several long moments, her knees drawn up to her chest. The hood of her cloak cast a deep shadow over her face, making it impossible to read her expression.

  “Maybe we should start over,” I said. “My name’s Sam, Sam Garner. Sorry about my appearance; you just caught me on a bad day.”

  “I’m Emelia…” she replied hesitantly. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but these aren’t exactly ideal circumstances.”

  “Well, even still, it’s nice to meet you, Emelia.” I offered a faint smile and leaned my head back against the cold stone wall.

  My body ached and I was suprised to find that my fatigue from earlier still hadn’t fully recovered. It probably had something to do with that new skill I had acquired, or it could be from having to heal so much at once. Either one of those ideas sounded plausible, but I was too tired to give it more thought than that.

  I shook my head in an attempt to clear away the fog of weariness that had settled over me. I decided it would be best to keep the conversation going before I fell asleep.

  “So…Emelia, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

  Despite her body being hidden away by the tattered cloak, I could still see her muscles tense in apprehension. Like before, she sat quietly for a moment before responding.

  “I, well, I stole something from a guard the other night…I almost got away, but he was much faster than I thought he would be.”

  I winced at her admission. Emelia was a thief? That was definitely not good, especially in small towns like Wheat Hollow. Being a thief was nearly as bad as murdering someone in some people’s eyes, as a person’s word and integrity were considered more valuable than gold.

  She sighed, and buried her face into her knees. He words tumbling out through her mumbled confession.

  “I know it was foolish, but I didn’t have any other choice.”

  “There are always choices,” I replied, perhaps a little too piously. “If you needed coin, you could’ve just asked someone. At the very least, they might’ve offered you work in exchange for pay.”

  She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in exasperation.

  “Oh, I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a man walking the city at night,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you know how most girls with nothing to lose earn their coin after dark? Surely all those men who meet us in the alleys come with charity in their hearts.”

  I felt my cheeks burn hot at her comment, and shame coursed through me for how condescending I must have sounded with the scolding I’d offered.

  “And for the record, I wasn’t after his coin, I was after his keys.”

  Her statement puzzled me more than anything else she had said so far.

  “His keys?” I asked, my voice rising with genuine confusion.

  “Well… it’s complicated,” she said, stretching as she stood. “When I arrived in the city, a merchant took an interest in an item I was carrying. When I refused to sell it, the guards were called, and he accused me of stealing. Long story short, the guards confiscated it. The merchant couldn’t prove ownership, and I refused to give them my family name. So, for now, what they took is being held in the Duke’s manor until my trial.”

  “Sooo, how does that lead you to stealing keys? Couldn’t you just wait for the trial?” Even with her explanation, her choice to steal from a guard made no sense to me at all.

  She shook her head and moved to sit beside me on the stone bench. I still couldn’t make out the features of her face, except for a few black strands of hair that spilled out from her inside her hood.

  “What they took from me was incredibly valuable, and it is highly unlikely they would return such a thing to a girl living on the streets of their city. So, I weighed my options, and decided that stealing the keys to the Duke’s manor was my best choice of action.”

  “You mentioned you refused to share your family name with the guards,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “I didn’t notice earlier, but you didn’t share it with me either.”

  She nodded affirmatively.

  “I know you want to ask, but please don’t. As long as I can get back what they took from me, that’s all that matters…but I’m afraid that’s not likely to happen now.”

  I honestly didn’t know what to say about her situation. It sounded messy, and I clearly didn’t have all the details about why she had acted as she did.

  She didn’t seem like a bad person; if anything, she seemed like someone who had made a poor choice in a moment of desperation. Stealing a guard’s keys was foolish, but then again, I had punched one myself earlier today. Maybe I wasn’t in a position to judge.

  Before we could continue our conversation, the bolt of the metal door slid free. Faint sunlight spilled into the cell as several guards descended the stairs and assembled inside the room.

  “Well, it looks like it’s my time,” I said, extending my hand. “It was nice to meet you, Emelia. If you ever need a friend, please, come find me. I’ll do what I can to help.”

  To my surprise, she tentatively reached out from beneath the cloak and shook my hand.

  “Thank you, Sam… I may just do that.”

  Her touch was gentle, almost delicate, yet the rough calluses on her palm drew my gaze, sparking a renewed curiosity about the person hidden beneath the fabric.

  As the light from the open door spilled into the cell, I finally caught a glimpse of Emelia’s face. Once, she must have been considered a flawless beauty by any standard—black hair, sharp features, and an elegance that would have drawn envy from many. Now, however, whatever beauty she once possessed had been tempered by the traces of some fiery ordeal.

  A vicious burn had claimed the left side of her face and neck, the scars climbing up into her hairline. Her eye on that side was clouded white, staring back at me blindly. Realizing she had been exposed by the light, she quickly drew her cloak tight, retreating into its shadows.

  Before I could fully process what I had just seen, Rolin and I were pulled roughly from our cells, and escorted back up the stone stairs leading toward the Duke’s manor.