A Silent Curse, page 13
I crossed my arms and glared at her.
Her smirk only grew–and then it disappeared altogether in an air of realisation. “Oh God–please. Please don’t tell me that this is the prince you’ve kidnapped. I thought yous went in the castle for books.”
“Does it look like I kidnapped him?” I said, annoyed–then rephrased it. “Look, I didn’t kidnap anyone, nor did Wyatt. But yes, this does happen to be the prince.”
Laurent grimaced.
“I see,” Ranae chuckled. “And I shouldn’t hand you in for a healthy sum of money because?”
I frowned. “Because we’re friends.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s a large reward.”
I punched her arm, knowing she wasn’t serious. Or at least–hoping she wasn’t. “It’s good to see you again, too. But we can’t stay. We need to get to…”
I watched as Ranae’s eyes widened in fright: my words died on my lips.
“What is it?” I asked, turning around.
“No–” Ranae started, but I was already facing back the way we came.
Big mistake.
There, back at the edge of the crowd, a guard pushed her way past the last person; it was the same one we’d seen at the castle steps, the same guard who’d seen our faces before.
And she was staring straight at us.
I looked Laurent dead in the eye. “Do not turn around,” I said, grabbing his hand again. “We’re going now.”
“I–”
“Hope you liked the running,” I continued, not giving him time to reply.
I didn’t ask Ranae if she was coming–I guess I just assumed she was, given she’d already been spotted with me. When I turned back to her, she had already started moving, and I realised after one step that I–we–needed her; we were in a part of the town I’d yet to explore, and although navigating streets wasn’t necessarily difficult, I was no professional at diverting guards.
We sprinted to the end of the street, Laurent’s hand still in mine, and bolted around the nearest corner. It was quiet in these parts. For the first time since leaving the crowd, I wished for it back–there was absolutely nowhere to hide.
“Hey!” I heard from behind us, a sharp exclamation laced with threat.
I squinted at the dark of the street in front of us as I tried to make out our path. My feet were already sore, Laurent’s breathing was already rapid.
“Ranae,” I managed, after she dragged us around the next turn. “We can’t do this forever! We need to get to the lake!”
“Why do you…” she started, then stopped questioning it. “Alright! What…what do we do?”
We paused at a T in the road. I was very aware of footsteps behind us; not close, but not far away, either. Laurent’s palm had turned particularly clammy in mine but he refused to let go.
“We should go different ways,” the prince managed, looking over his shoulder. It sounded like he had more to say, but no further words left his lips.
Flustered and panicked, I nodded, firing a glance to the right, to the left. Right was towards the lake, towards where we needed to be; left was back towards the heart of the town, towards the height of danger.
The decision was painful. Especially now that I was on the brink of escaping.
I shoved the two others to the right. “Go that way,” I said, and with no further explanation I let go of the prince’s hand, sprinting to the left and into the shadows of the desolate street.
The footsteps following us soon caught up; I glanced back to see Laurent and Ranae slinking into the darkness as another silhouette appeared at the junction. The guard’s head shot from side to side, her stature suggesting she was by no means done with running yet. She took one more second to debate where we’d gone.
Then headed for me.
I swore to myself, turning and picking up the pace once more. Although it was what I wanted–for her to follow me, not them–I realised I was at much higher stakes, and if I was going to pull off losing her in and amongst the streets, I’d have to be clever about it.
I focused on putting all my energy into running. Running was familiar. Running I could do. At home, I’d often run back and forth between the house and the farm–and though the atmosphere here was much less invigorating and more intense, the concept was the same. I concentrated on that. I tried to pretend the cobblestones were grass; the wind smelt like country air; the path was familiar.
Now I was facing towards the town centre, I could hear the clamour once more, and the fireworks themselves danced on the edge of my vision. They were ever-more stark against the sky as the evening dragged on. Similarly, they acted as a beacon: if I was heading towards them, it was the wrong direction. I needed to somehow loop around.
“Miss! Stop!”
The words sent a shock wave through me and brought me back to my senses. I risked a glance back to find the guard had followed me tightly, despite the turns I’d taken in an effort to shake her off. I tripped. Almost completely falling over, I let out an involuntary hiss as my injured hand hit the icy cobbled ground. I pushed myself back into a run, clutching my wounded fingers in the other hand.
I picked up the speed, taking as many right turns as possible to get back around to the lake.
Still, the guard followed.
It was hopeless; she wasn’t going to give up until she’d caught me–even though I was no longer with the prince–and I’d only made it harder for myself by heading away from the crowds of people. My mind raced desperately to come up with a new plan. I spotted the next turn halfway down my current street–noticed how the area I was in had a lot of derelict infrastructure–and had an idea.
Considering I was the one to formulate it, I wasn’t confident at all. But it was all I had.
I stuck close to the wall of the corner building when I sprinted around it. My own sporadic heartbeat drowned out the fireworks beyond. I looked down, searching furiously for a loose cobblestone or some discarded litter–and found: a chunk of worn brick, clearly eroded from the side of a building or wall. It would have to do: I didn’t have time to linger. Dashing a couple metres along the street, I found the first incove, and ducked into it–but not before lobbing the brick down the far side of the alley, towards the next turn. It hit the ground and tumbled, loudly, continuously, echoing in the soundless abyss of the dark.
And I stood, silently.
I pressed as close as I could to the wall.
And I stood, waiting.
I held my hand over my mouth.
And I stood, watching as the guard sprinted past, in the direction of the clattering brick.
I bit down on my tongue, holding back a scream of pain from the aches in my feet, the rise and fall of my chest, the stinging of my reopened wound. I kept my eyes firmly on the guard.
She slowed.
She stopped.
She turned around.
A choked sob escaped my throat unwittingly. My stomach flipped. The moment of instant panic took up a second I didn’t have, and I faltered before ultimately bolting from my spot. Perhaps if I’d stayed there, concealed by the shadows of the empty doorway, the guard wouldn’t have seen me–but I couldn’t take that risk. I was too close to getting away–too close to escaping–too close to getting home–and my veins were wired with adrenaline.
“Miss, stop!” the woman repeated. I had a greater lead on her now, but also even less of a sense of direction; if I ran back the same way, I’d be leading her directly to Ranae and Laurent; but if I kept running, I’d just be distancing myself from them.
My lungs burned and tears welled in my eyes. I wanted Laurent, with his focused mind and sensible decisions, to tell me what to do. In fact–I needed Laurent. It felt unnervingly quiet without his heaving breaths beside me. The tears on my cheeks burned lines of fire into my skin. I didn’t realise how dependent I’d become on him.
Then I heard the guard behind me and knocked myself back to my senses. Away, I told myself. Lead her away. Don’t lead her to your exit, or you’ll never be able to leave.
So when I returned to the start of the street, the guard still shouting my name behind me, I turned to carry on along my original route. I needed to find somewhere to hide, or to slip away into a crowd. But until then, I had to keep running. I swiped the tears from the cheeks and sprinted ahead: surely the guard wouldn’t be able to keep running forever.
There was something else nagging me, though.
I couldn’t keep running forever.
I turned at the next left. My eyes scanned the horizon. Although my vision was glazed, the streetlamps helped to guide my way and illuminate my possible routes. I tried looking out for where there was a greater number of them, as it perhaps would lead me to a more populated area.
My legs protested. I kept running.
The next corner I turned provided me with an option I hadn’t even considered; but it was right there, staring me in the face: a church, wide open to the public.
Please, I prayed to the deities I’d never believed in, please let there be lots of people inside.
With my remaining energy I sprinted towards it, up the steps, and into the cover of the foyer.
And if I learnt one lesson today: Gods can’t help you if they don’t exist.
The church was deserted.
I swore. The guard would have seen me enter, and if I turned out now, she’d be within reaching distance. And reaching distance equalled arresting distance. It wasn’t an option.
Although luck didn’t appear to be on my side, there was one advantage of the empty building: it was dark. The sort of dark you only experienced when you were blindfolded, forcing you to stumble forwards with that dreadful anticipation of blind fear.
Grasping the opportunity with full force, I located the first row of benches and dropped underneath them. I crawled forwards on my stomach to the next row, painstakingly aligning myself with the pew above me. Dust coated my arms as I moved. I wanted to crawl further, deeper into the confines of the church, but time was not on my side. Those same echoing footsteps made their way inside, and before I knew, the guard was in the building with me. I had expected her to bring with her an ominous twin shadow–but, of course, it was swallowed by the night, and left us unequivocally alone.
“Miss Evette, I know you are in here. I'm kindly asking that you hand yourself over.”
I held my hand over my mouth once more. All I needed was for her to walk forwards and I’d be free to slip behind her. She’d evaded my first trick–but she couldn’t keep ahead of me forever. I was sure of it.
Don’t say a word.
“As of now, we cannot charge you with anything. If you keep running, however, you are only proving your guilt.”
She’s lying. Stay quiet.
From where I was, I had no clear view of either the guard or the entrance.
But the sound of her releasing a latch and letting the doors swivel to a close was unmistakable.
No.
I had trapped myself inside.
If I didn’t move soon, I’d be consumed by the dust and the darkness of the ground below me. My muscles would seize. My lungs would burn up. As it was, the whole front of my body was going numb and I was struck with an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. I needed to do something before I became a girl of shadow and myth, welded to the ground in a town to which she–and the whole world–was a stranger.
But the guard decided what would happen next. She walked forwards. She would try to find me.
And she would probably be successful.
“Evette.”
Be silent, dimwit. I let the butterflies of fear flicker around the pit in my stomach and caper over my skin.
The guard moved down the centre aisle. Passed me, even. Apart from the rhythmic knock of her boots, she was deadly silent: as was I.
“Then perhaps your name is not Evette. Perhaps you lied. Would you like to tell me your real name?”
Her voice had turned sweeter–another rouse to get me to reveal myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and followed the sound of her steps in my head. Breathing had never been so painful. I was certain a toxin was filling my throat and setting the air alight.
It sounded like she’d made it to the front of the church. But I was stuck: if I moved to the door, I’d be revealing myself and inevitably be unable to unlock them.
“We do not often get criminals in this town. But we do take their punishment seriously.”
Back to the condescending tone. She knew I wasn’t taking the bait.
“Abducting the prince is a matter of great consequence.”
I didn’t abduct him. He wanted to come with me.
I said nothing.
She began to walk back down the centre. I had to act. With the weight of my own future on my shoulders, I turned slowly, still pulling myself along with my elbows and scraping my skin against the floor. The silence in the room was painstakingly loud. I was quiet in my actions but wouldn’t be surprised if the guard could hear every movement I made.
As she walked towards the doors, I crawled the opposite direction. I needed to get to the back of the church–there could be an exit, another room, anything. I was hanging on by a thread.
She made it to the doors. I made it to the last pew. Before me, I could make out the altar, atop it various indistinguishable objects.
The guard began to walk back down with a greater sense of urgency.
Now or never.
I crawled out from my hiding place, scraping my knees by accident and trying to avoid putting too much pressure on my injured hand. My heart lurched. Blood rushed to my head.
The guard rushed towards me.
I reached over the altar, brushing my hand over the surface of the table and picking up the first object it came into contact with–no time to be picky. It felt like a candlestick; weighted, sturdy. I grappled it by the spine. I spun just as the guard reached me. Her proximity scared the wits from me.
I finally resisted my own warnings to stay quiet. “Sorry,” I muttered.
Then I brought the candlestick in a perfect arc towards her skull.
I didn’t intend to injure her, only knock her out–though I couldn’t be certain of the outcome when all I could see was her hazy silhouette and all I could hear was the splitting crack of the metal meeting bone, a sound so horrifying it fractured a hollow cavern into the night air. She had no time to react before crumpling to the floor.
I dropped the candlestick and winced. Oops.
Swallowing, I stepped over her. Yes, I felt guilty. No, I would not wait around to see what happened when she woke up.
With my fingers shaking and my eyes still not adjusted to the darkness, it was seemingly impossible to do the simple task of turning the keys in the door locks; but I did manage, and I said another silent apology to the guard before slipping back into the night.
A giddy sort of laughter danced on my throat but I forced myself to conserve my energy by staying quiet. With gentle footsteps, I moved back the way I came, through the bracing winds of the frozen evening.
With no more pressure clinging to my every step, the journey back felt much quicker. I listened out for other people the whole time, but nothing–no guards, not a single Mauditian citizen, either.
I thought of my first moments in the town, wandering down that gravel path, alone.
It wasn’t all that dissimilar now.
Though I’d gained a certain fondness for the place; one that was unsolicited and indescribable but most definitely there. Not just that, but I’d gained knowledge, too–it was like the saying I often heard thrown around when I was in school: don’t judge a book by its cover, Evette. Here, it rang true; although Mauditia was encapsulated by an impenetrable hex and despicable air of despondency, I’d learned to admire its curious ways.
The longer I spent in my own company, still running, the more deeply I wished to see a familiar face again. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, I found myself passing the junction I’d left the others at. I slowed to a walk. When they saw they weren’t being followed, did they keep running? Did they go back? Did they wait for me?
I started to panic. I’d been so caught up in getting away that I hadn't even contemplated getting back.
I passed a few more buildings, not necessarily empty but all deadly quiet. Facing this direction, there wasn’t a single light as far as I could see; every building blended into one, two tall walls standing motionless, flanking me. I looked back at the last turning I knew–but even that had melted into the shadows. A chill crawling between my shoulder blades, I kept walking, sticking to one side for the presence of the buildings alone. It was a trifling comfort.
I knew it was a bad idea, but I desperately wanted to call one of my friends’ names.
Ranae’s was already leaving my tongue when I was pulled into the alley.
Her name merged into a scream as I stumbled forwards, both of the person’s hands pressed firmly around my arm to keep me from falling flat. I struggled to prise them off. My scream died out but my fear didn’t.
“Evette!” they said, tone hushed.
My head snapped up. I knew that voice.
“Laurent!” I stopped struggling away from the prince and instead wrapped my arms around his neck, almost knocking him over. I was so relieved after the tension of the moments before that I couldn’t help but crave physical reassurance. He held me like that, wordlessly, arms tight around my back, as I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to hold back overwhelmed tears.
It had been one moment. One moment where it was dark and it was cold and I was completely alone, but it was one moment too many.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
I opened my eyes to see another figure in the darkness behind, and although I was immediately startled, it didn't take long to decipher the murky silhouette of the ring-fighter.
I allowed myself a shaky laugh, letting Laurent out of my embrace. I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but I didn’t need to in order to picture the beautiful scepticism etched into his features. “I think so. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For staying. For waiting. For everything.”
