Half of Ruby

Chapter 40 (Part 3)

She hurled off her outer petticoat, and, not bothering to navigate the tangle of laces on the back of the corset, drew her blade down the side of the suffocating material, gasping in relief as the whale bone fell to the floor with a crash. 

She ripped off her inner petticoat, which was by now stained by sweat and dirt. Cold air graced her naked body as she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing off what remained of the makeup slathered across her face. 

Staring at the rouge and soot streaked across her hands, she could not help but feel a sense of rawness, of relief. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her hands on the folded blankets of the bed, smearing them with red and black, before slipping into the clothes on the bed. 

A pair of wool-lined leather shoes laid under the bed, brown laces across the front for traveling. Ember slid into them, grateful for the softness around her raw, red feet, and stood up, braiding her hair into the white cap. 

Her eyes roved over the mess of garments strewn across the floor, and, knife in one hand, slashed the hoop gown into bits, cleaving through the metal rings as though they were tissue paper. She shoved the clothes underneath the bed, hesitating before the ball gown. 

It will just take up space. 

Biting her lip, Ember pushed that under the bed, too. 

Sliding the blade back into the holder on her right leg, she stood up and headed back down the hall. 

Ronan had not emerged yet; she sat herself down at the dining table and stared out the window, shivering despite the warmth of her traveling clothes. 

The jasmine outside swayed with the wind, lithe dancers twirling to an unheard beat. She blinked sleepily, rubbing away the exhaustion behind her eyes. Hunger rumbled in her stomach, but she forced that away. 

"Ember." 

She turned around, a small smile flickering across her lips as Ronan emerged from the kitchen. "Hello." 

"Are you ready?" he asked. "We should leave right now." 

She nodded, holding back a yawn. "Ready as I will ever be." 

He smiled at her. "After...." 

Ember frowned as he trailed off. "Ronan?" 

He spun around to the window, eyes wide with fear. She followed his gaze, a gasp tearing from her lips. 

Gold pinpricks flickered in the distance, bobbing up and down like bubbles atop a sea of black. Torches. 

"Ember," said Ronan slowly, "I think they know where we are."

"Do we run?" she demanded. 

He shook her head. "They will catch up to us if we do. The closest exit from Salem is miles away." 

"But we are only two people," argued Ember. "The likelihood of them catching us—"

"—is high, considering that they number around two-hundred. They can easily entrap us, especially if Elyvera is leading them." Ronan swallowed. "The best we can do is hide." 

"But they are still far away!" snapped Ember. "We can escape—"

"No." Ronan shook his head. "Listen." 

Ember fell silent. Indeed, in the distance, the cries and shouts of the people punctured the air, quiet at first, a gradual crescendo to yells and jeers. 

"What do we do?" she demanded. 

"Get the packs," said Ronan. "And any evidence you may have left. The secret hideaway—the one behind the oven—we shall hide there."