Creaaak. Alia blinked, unsure if she'd opened her eyes, but all she could see was darkness. She might have seen the dimmest outline of the door, but when she blinked again it was gone. The faintest swishing sound passed by, and she squeezed her eyes totally shut, hoping they'd start working again.
"Move another inch and this dagger goes through your gut," hissed a woman's voice. "I just want a place to sleep without being threatened by anyone." Alia froze, but realized belatedly that it was coming from too far away to be directed at her.
"Mira?" That was Kit, sounding far more shaken than he'd been at any point until now.
Mira as in Mirabelle? Alia sat up suddenly, wincing as the hay poked through her dress and her legs protested at the movement.
"Gods, Kit? Silvertongue, what in the name of the First Scribe are you doing here?" Gods, it was Mirabelle. That voice was burned into Alia's brain forever.
"Sleeping. Mira, what are you doing here? Gavin said you weren't interested in helping." Kit's voice had gone entirely flat and emotionless, back to the way it had been all day.
Alia shifted her legs off the edge of the pile of hay, trying to stretch out her aching muscles.
"Oh, believe you me, I didn't want to be here." Mirabelle sounded incredibly bitter, but her tone shifted back to alert at the sound of Alia's movement. "Who else is here? Caddock?"
She didn't know whether or not to announce herself, and Kit didn't say anything. There was the rustling of fabric, and then the striking of a flint.
In the flash of light, Alia saw Kit, looking groggy and irritated. "Parchment and ink, Mira, fire in a gods-forsaken hay barn?"
The flint struck and a spark flared again, this time nesting in a small pile of hay at Mirabelle's feet. "It'll be fine," the woman said dismissively. "It's soaking wet outside, and I'll stomp it down if it starts to get out of control."
As the fire caught, Mirabelle crouched to feed it a few more handfuls of hay and then stepped back.
In the flickering light, Alia was startled to see that her idol didn't look beautiful or strong and imperious or intimidating. Well, maybe still the last one. Instead, the petite woman was disheveled, red hair drenched and falling out of a braid, clothes torn and bruises and scrapes all over her face.
"Kit, you didn't say. Who else is here?" She squinted back towards Alia's sleeping place, but the firelight didn't reach far enough to see.
From what Alia could see, Kit was too busy staring at Mirabelle's injuries in appalled shock to answer anything. She stood up shakily. "Alia," she said. It came out quieter than intended, and she could tell it was barely audible.
Mirabelle stepped closer, still squinting, and then suddenly her eyes widened, her expression hardened, and in a flash she had her elbow around Alia's neck and a dagger at her chin. Surprisingly, up close the hero was a few inches shorter than the serving girl, and the hold she used yanked Alia's neck sideways.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you where you stand, you little slut."
Alia could feel the cold metal of the dagger pricking at the soft underside of her chin, and her knees began to quake in terror. She thought she might pass out or throw up, but mercifully, her body decided to remain entirely still. Words tried to form in her mouth, but her jaw refused to unlock and only a whimper came out.
"By the unnamed-fucking-gods, Mira, put down the stupid dagger already. You're going to hurt someone." Kit sounded intensely irritated, but he made no move to free Alia.
She closed her eyes and breathed as shallowly as possible as Mirabelle started to laugh in a deranged manner.
"You've got to be kidding me, Kit. You want to know why I'm here? Do you really?" Mirabelle laughed bitterly and waited for a moment, as though an answer was forthcoming, but Kit only shrugged. Alia felt the muscles in the woman's arm tighten, but she sounded calm when she spoke. "I'm here because this little fool thought it would be a good idea to meddle around in the Librum. I'm here because the townspeople wanted to run her up a tree but she was nowhere to be seen, so you know what they did then? They bloody came after me, Kit, because apparently one woman is as good as another, even if the other is a worthless, spineless little serving girl."
Abruptly, she dropped the dagger, which thumped dully against the floor, and threw Alia back into the nearby pile of hay. The younger girl landed on her hands and knees and just lay there shaking for a moment, trying to catch her breath and hearing Mirabelle go on and on with her voice increasing in volume. "I am here because I was chased out of Beldara main by a mob. The idiot villagers literally had torches and pitchforks! I could be dead right now! I was supposed to be marrying Gavin bloody Heartstrike in three days, Kit! Three days! But thanks to that little bitch, I'm bruised and hiding in a barn. So let's see if you can talk your way out of that one, Silvertongue."
By the end of her diatribe, Mirabelle's voice had gone cold and flat. Alia rolled over and sat up, wiping away a few tears that had escaped down her cheeks when the Hero had held her. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Abruptly, the red-haired woman spun back around. "Oh no," she said dangerously. "Don't think that means you get to talk." She stalked back over and leaned in very close to Alia. "Let's make things very clear. You're only here because you have giant eyes, like a baby cow or something, and because Kit is an idiot around women, no matter how plain they are. But batting those thick eyelashes at me isn't going to do a thing. You slip up once and I will not hesitate to kill you. And it would be legal. 'No protection from the laws of Beldara,' remember?"
Alia nodded weakly, going quiet again and feeling sick at the memory. She lay back against the stack of hay and let seeping tears seal her eyes shut. Mercifully, the other woman had turned and walked back toward the fire.
"You done?" Kit asked nonchalantly.
Mirabelle hissed out a breath, but even with her eyes shut, Alia could tell it wasn't really a laugh. "Not even close, Kitrell. You know how long it took me to get to this point? And now Gavin can't even be here with me, because he's back pleading with his father so that the Council might—might—issue an order for my protection."
"Where are you going to go?" asked Kit, as though she hadn't said anything else.
The small curvy woman laughed bitterly again and Alia wondered briefly if her sanity was actually going. "The closest border—same as you, I s'pose."
"No, Mira. I told Gavin when I came to your rooms yesterday. We need to see if we can fix this."
"And I suppose you think she can help?" Alia winced at the hatred in the other woman's voice. "Anyway, when did you suddenly develop a moral compass? Nice try. There's got to be something in this for you."
Again, Kit ignored half of what she said. "She knows the magic, Mira. She might see something we don't."
"Something you don't. Just because I ran into you here doesn't mean a thing. I'm sleeping in this barn tonight, but tomorrow we go our separate ways."
Alia heard Kit sigh quietly. "That's probably for the best," he said tightly. She relaxed marginally at those words. It was strange—before today, she'd have given anything to actually go on an adventure with Mirabelle Flamelocks. But this was not the woman of the Story or the woman that the bards sang about. The person who stood there in that barn was hard and cruel and downright nasty, and Alia would have been happiest to never see or hear of her again. There are few things more despicable than a fallen hero.
Eventually, someone stomped the fire out, and Alia heard the two Heroes walk off to different sides of the barn and flop down in the hay. Someone sighed, but otherwise there was silence.
It was a long time before Kit finally started snoring, and even longer before Alia managed to fall back asleep.
By the time Alia woke the next morning, blinking herself awake to stare in confusion at the wooden walls and the pale light streaming in through the gaps, Mirabelle was gone. For one stupid moment, Alia thought it had all been some sort of bizarre dream, that she'd fallen asleep in the stables or something equally odd.
The then barn door swung open with a squeak, and Kit appeared clapping his hands against his legs and blowing out a cloud of steamy breath in the morning air. Alia waited, squinting her eyes almost shut, to see if the fiery female Hero would follow him in, but thankfully she was nowhere to be seen. After a moment, Alia's bladder made itself known, and she was forced to sit up and admit to being awake.
After awkwardly skulking behind the barn to relieve herself while feeling very exposed, Alia walked reluctantly back into the barn. Kit hadn't spoken yet, and even still he remained silent as he fished around in the pack and handed her another chunk of dried meat and some stiff, chewy, tasteless biscuit.
Her cloak was still a little damp and the sun hadn't risen enough yet to warm the air. She missed Mirabelle's flint and fire, though not enough to wish the woman back. Alia tried very very hard not to think of what her mother might be doing in the kitchens at that moment, or how her cozy her lumpy bed in the tiny Librum chamber would be, and as a result managed to choke down the entirety of her tasteless breakfast without any tears. Finally, Kit shoved everything into the pack and spoke, sounding gruff.
"Let's hit the road again."
Alia acquiesced with a nod. She was so over-full of questions that none of them made it out. The first few steps were enough to remind her that they had walked quite a distance the day before, and she had blistered feet and stiff legs.
It didn't matter, though. Kit was stepping off at a brisk pace, and she couldn't risk alienating him. She didn't know where they were going or what the plan was, and this was her only shot at getting to return to the Librum.
The golden-pink mist of dawn quickly phased into a crisp, cloudless autumn day, and it soon became a comfortable temperature with the sun shining down on the road. Alia stared blankly at the fields around them, most now lying fallow after the harvest. It was all picturesque to keep her mildly curious and distracted, and she was intensely aware that if she thought about anything, she would lose it entirely and collapse into a quivering pile of grief and terror right there in the hard-packed dirt of the road.
Kit still wasn't talking, but that was fine. Alia didn't know what she would say. The majority of her focus was stuck on breathing steadily and taking one step after another. Eventually, though, her feet went numb, and her mind stayed numb, and for a while it was downright tolerable.
So i just realized the craziest thing. Inkblots is now longer than Gatebound, and on-pace to outrank it very soon! NaNoWriMo has been pushing me toward success in a way I wasn't expecting. I owe the four or five of you who've been faithfully reading this a big Thank You for that, because without your support I would have bailed long ago!
PS - I gave you the angry mob after Mira! You happy yet? :D