The Vows of Enemies

Chapter 8

Ramsey, ever the aspiring pirate, promised he could make the journey across the sea by the time the sun rises in the morning. And just like he said he would, he does just that.

The sprawling hills of Liberum greet me immediately as I step onto the deck of the Dead Man's Raft after getting only a few hours of sleep. The land seems never-ending, the green fields almost reaching the horizon, taking over the skyline completely. Trees are dotted throughout, steady streams of smoke coming from some of them, and the subtle bustling of people sounding from over the horizon, where Alek had told me the main town lies.

I'm staring at the tendrils of smoke crossing the sky when Alek comes up behind me, watching Ramsey set up the plank to connect the ship to the wooden pier. His hands brush my waist in passing as he confidently walks onto land like it's his home. Like this is where he's supposed to be. He turns, giving me a smirk before Ramsey and I follow, and we set off toward the town.

We walk for what seems like hours, watching as some families gather at the edge of every cluster of forest that we pass, the children peeking out from behind their parent's legs, clutching their toys tightly, as if we might come to steal them. As we get closer and closer, walking through fields and fields of pure emerald grass, the town comes into sight. It rises slowly from the horizon, revealing a large group of wooden and stone houses, pens for animals, and a large castle fit for a queen emerging from the rear.

When Alek had told me about Isis- the leader of the witches- I envision her as the queen that he described her. But the castle rising from the horizon seems...abandoned. Unused. Like the queen didn't want the crown, the fame, the responsibility. Like she wants the simplicity of being with her people, giving them equality rather than leading them with complete selfish control. The castle's windows appear dark and lifeless the closer we get to it. The village, however, is more impressive than any castle could ever be.

More and more houses, each different in shape and size, materialise as we approach. Due to us arriving in the early hours of the morning, most of the houses remain quiet, curtains closed and doors no doubt locked. Others, those who woke early, watch us from their doors, children running past us through the streets despite their parent's words of warning. Alek nods to a few women, and they smile and nod back in recognition. When he does so for a third time, his eyes flicker back to mine, as if sensing the strange rising feeling in my stomach and the way my fingers curl tightly around the cloth of my skirt. I don't give the feeling a name, not letting it hold any sort of power over me, knowing that Alek would take pride if it did.

I hastily remind myself that he isn't an object of desire, only an ally, my abruptly turned husband and still somewhat my childhood enemy. He is nothing more than someone I can trust, despite my feelings toward him changing day by day.

I watch as people prepare for the day- women walking back from wells with buckets filled with fresh water, younger women feeding animals in gardens, others grinding up herbs on their doorsteps and all of them always keeping one eye on us- as if any sudden movements will cause an attack. My heartbeat lurches at the thought, narrowing my eyes at another woman who stops her work on sewing up one of her children's shirts to stare at Alek for as long as humanly possible. My hands curl into fists again, but relax when Alek slows to match my pace, his shoulder brushing against mine.

He suddenly stops, causing me to do the same beside him, and Ramsey to almost walk into the back of me before he joins the line we form.

We stand before possibly the largest building in the main village, and what seems to function as the town hall. Much like a church, the building's sides contain stained glass windows, depicting an unfamiliar scene of what seems to be an origin story of sorts- but none that I have witnessed reading nor seeing in books. It's tall and pointed stature causes it to rise high above the houses, as if wanting to draw attention to itself, helped largely by the white-ness of the building. Compared to all the other properties, this seems to be the only one that is completely pure white- all the others being made from wood, whereas the church or town hall, or whatever they call it, is made from the purest marble I've ever laid eyes on. As if made to worship a queen.