Before reading, I'd like to just say this part of the story has been changed by the way! Not by a lot but please keep that in mind while reading!
Mare POV
I wake up from my bed, tears in my eyes. That almost never happens. Usually I'm filled with anger or some form of a burning rage, but today it's sadness that I wake up to.
My dream was ... I can't place it at all. Bittersweet? Terrifying? Worrying? Maybe all of those things.
In my dream, I was transported into a golden field. The sun was also shining, reflecting a hue as yellow as the earth below it. The place seemed alien to me, but with every step I took, it felt more and more familiar like I had been here before.
I walked aimlessly for a while before reaching a lake. When I peered into it, I saw my seventeen year old self. I was young again in this world. My hands, my body, everything. There were no signs of my struggles as an adult. I was a girl again.
I ... I wrenched my eyes away from that reflection. That's when I spotted the tree, and the person underneath it.
Shade. He was reading underneath the tree.
Then I ran. I remember running towards him. But he ran too. but he only ever seemed to get farther and farther away from me. The sun set, the sky grew dark. Then storm clouds began to form.
"Too tired little sister?" he taunted. "Come and catch me!"
"I will!" I huff, anger evident in my voice.
That's when I noticed it. My hands were wrinkling, my body changing. My skin became calloused and rough. My back started to hunch over. And there was a girl, who wasn't there before, trailing behind me.
I ran again. And he ran too.
The field melted away into the familiar walls of Corros and the memory Samson etched so deeply into my mind began to play. I saw my daughter battling Ptolemus along with Ara. I saw myself fighting alongside the Guard against the dead Queen. And Shade, who had also grown old, was fighting too. But his job was to get everyone into someplace safe.
Then it was just me in Corros. Just me and Dahlia. Ptolemus' gleaming needle had speared through Ara's neck sending a fountain of Silver blood out of her. She choked, and then hit the floor dead.
Ptolemus then turned towards my own daughter. She was on the floor atop the rubble that the break out had caused, and clearly very disoriented. The mask that I had always told her to wear had fallen off. And the very needle that killed Ara was now aimed at her—
Shade's body materialized, his hand atop her and I.
Then, the spike went in. Blood splattered everywhere. I screamed.
And then I woke.
It wasn't supposed to end like that. I wish it didn't.
Samson, I think to myself, gritting my teeth. A butcher indeed.
If anyone heard me scream, they wouldn't care. The Sentinels outside remain firm to their posts, unmoving and unfeeling. They might relay my actions to Maven, but I'm guessing he'll hardly care. Knowing him, he'll be more concerned about his throne, spending his days entertaining court rather than a cell like mine.
Unless he needs me of course, a voice in my head says. Like he did when he made you to spout lies to the public.
I didn't have a choice, I snap back, still thinking to myself. He ... he forced me to.
It's the truth ... but also a lie. Maven never really forces you to do anything. He just corners you until you're left with two options of his liking. And the choices he lays out in front of you ... they're not really choices at all. It's something like "your family will die unless you come with me" type of thing. Or "I'll destroy the world if you don't come with me".
It always involves me and the destruction of something I hold dear. A "choice" ... but not really.
I should've known he'd use me like this. I should've foreseen it. But what is a girl to do when the lives of everyone she loves is at stake? Sacrifice herself of course.
Only this time, I'm not a girl. I'm a mother too.
I just hope it was worth it. Dahlia, Cal, the rest of my family no doubt is safe and sound back at some base I'm sure of it. I'm sure ... I'm sure Maven would not do anything that would hurt me. He might've disliked my brothers a great deal and thought of my parents as rats but he wouldn't go as far as to kill them. As for Dahlia, he wouldn't dare touch something that's living proof of our past feelings. It's evidence that I loved him before I loved Cal. If I could call it love at all. True love doesn't involve lies. Neither does it involve manipulation.
It doesn't matter. Whether or not Maven will keep Dahlia alive isn't important. I'm determined to hide my daughter from him and his machinations at any cost. The longer he remains ignorant of her identity, the longer she is safe. And I intend to keep it that way.
The dark circles under my eyes, the aching body, my bitten nail beds. The possibility still keeps me awake at night. Even if I know Maven won't kill my family, the rest of Maven's court is still a constant threat. Ptolemus killed my brother. If given the chance, the rest of the High Houses will follow suit. And if they ever were to figure out that an illegitimate daughter of the monarchy exists—
No. I won't let them take her from me. I won't even let them touch her.
I best keep this from Maven. Should he ever find out, it might be the end of his sanity, much less my own daughter's. He'll have another reason to pursue me doggedly around the country. I can see the headlines already: The Lightning Girl has kidnapped my daughter! His lies won't ever stop. He'll find a way to get her and send the rest of the nobles too.
I sigh. Dahlia is smart, but what will she do against the might of Norta and a horde of High Houses after her? Lightning's rage can destroy so much and even that cannot rival the powers of the Silver houses united.
Dahlia's not stupid enough to run into Whitefire, I think to myself. If she's smart, she'll stay back. Scheme behind the walls.
After what Cal did to Nanny, sending that old woman here to die, there's no doubt she'll try and attempt something really stupid.
She's a great deal like Cal or for Shade in that matter: courageous, unafraid to fight for others who can't defend themselves. But she's rebellious. She's never trusted me or my judgement. She's always said I've bitten off more than I can chew. She said that I can't handle Maven on my own.
Maybe she's right. But I would rather die than push my daughter towards that monster of a king. That's a fight for me to handle, not hers.
"What a nice day for you to be in here."
Maven.
"I'm kept in here at your behest," I say, emphasizing the two words. "If you wanted to throw me outside, you would've done that by now."
"Oh no, I can't do that," Maven says, pouting a little. "And to think you'd want to be thrown out of the palace. Is my company not entertaining enough?"
"Your company is quite irritating actually."
"Then I best leave."
"You do that."
Liar. He doesn't move a single inch from his chair.
"You seem to have an awful lot of free time on your hands," I say, staring up from my bedsheet. "The courts?"
"Functioning."
"And?"
"As normal as ever Miss Barrow," he bites out.
I narrow my eyes at him. "Since when did I become a 'Miss Barrow'?"
"What?" Maven says accusingly. "You don't like being a lady?"
"I am not a lady," I snap. "Not one in your court anyway. I'm not ... "
The words don't come. No matter. I'm more content with ripping up the bedsheets. Tearing at the fabric is a much better distraction to my boring schedule than talking to Maven will ever be.
"Not what?" he asks quietly.
"Nothing," I answer quickly. "And the speech?"
"You've drawn in a good catch," Maven says, smiling, pleased to have been brought to a mutual topic of interest. "Your words were very effective in drawing in the newbloods. About ten in total. We've already sent five away to safe houses already."
Safe houses. More like prisons. "And ... and the other five of the ten?"
"They are to remain at Whitefire where they will train."
"Handpicked by the king eh?" Although I roll my eyes, pretending to maintain an aura of disinterest, the frustration of not knowing anything eats away at me from the inside. I might be mad, but my mind still works fervently, carefully constructing questions meant to leech as much information out of Maven.
"Five talented newbloods to stay at Whitefire to protect His Majesty," I add, goading him on. My fingers rip away at the bedsheet in my hand even more. The anger is palpable.
Maven knows what I want. I can see it in the way his hand clenches, the way his lips tremble at whatever information he's hiding. What matters now is if he'll give in, and how much he'll give in.
After a moment of silence he answers. "Yes."
"Great then!" I bite out sarcastically. The ripped up fabric of the once-bed-sheet falls lightly to the floor. "I suppose ... I suppose you'll let me see them?"
"Maybe if I want you to make some speech," he replies, preparing to leave. If he stays any longer, he's afraid he'll spill more than he should. "Other than that, you stay here."
"Not even for a walk with you?" Desperate times call for desperate measures and high risks. "I'm going to go mad if you leave me here for the rest of my life."
Maven is inches away from the doorknob when he turns around. There's a sort of look in his eye that I can't place. Maybe hopefulness? Desire? Yearning? Whatever it is, he struggles to make an answer because of it.
A weakness. One I've known for a long time, but now I know how to exploit it.
"No, I won't leave you here," Maven says, forcing the answer out of him. "As ... as long as you stay with me," he adds softly.
As long as you stay with me. Those words? A poison. If I were to ever stay with him, it'd be by force. If he were ever forced to stay with me, I wouldn't allow it. We don't complete each other, we only ruin. The boy I wished existed is gone. And the girl who loved him is gone too. All that's in front of me is a man whose only weakness is the woman who will never have him. All in front of him is a woman who will never trust or love him ever again.
The person in front of us ... we only disappoint each other. Whatever possible future we could have had is gone.
The door wrenches open, shutting with a loud finality. The room shakes upon impact, little tremors running through the walls. The vase on the desk beside me topples onto the floor and rolls a few feet before stopping. And that usually never happens. A distant tap tap tap rings in the distance as well, an echo of his shadow.
Maven's gone.
He ran.
I throw the rest of the ripped up bedsheet shreds at the door. They don't do anything rather than flutter gracefully down onto the ground. A bad way for me to release any sort of fury in me.
But if he's going to keep me here, I'm going to make him suffer too. Make him feel like there's a chance when there isn't.
If I was younger, I might not have consented to an idea like this out of pride. But ... I'll give him what he wants. I'll poison him from the inside by hanging a ripe olive branch in front of him. I'll wait for him to take the bait, for him to get addicted, before I finally strike.
My lips curve into a menacing smile. I might be in a cage, but I'll always fight. That, Maven, I can assure you.
Dahlia POV
Everything aches. But I'm used to it. I should be by now.
I didn't have a choice but to travel on foot. Yes, I could have stolen a carriage or an airship, but at what cost? The Scarlet Guard would be one short of those items. And if I were to get shot down by Nortan military forces, it wouldn't exactly have helped me with my mission. Besides, the Scarlet Guard isn't the one funding my endeavours. So I won't steal from them. They already have enough on their hands.
They're too focused on other things, they won't know I've left.
My lips curve into a smile. It was plain brilliant, the way I escaped. Or rather, my plan was brilliant enough for me to escape.
There were a few reasons why I couldn't just casually walk out of my room. The hallways are manned with cameras in every section of the base. Of course, they are to track intruders or unwanted guests, but also to track defectors from the Guard. If I decided to leave my room and walk out of the front door, they'll see it and they'll know. No doubt there will be a million of my mother's colleagues trailing after me before I even have the chance take my first few steps into freedom.
Then, why not shut off all the cameras? I could, but that would cause alarm and raise suspicion. If the outage was caused near me — which would have been essential if I didn't want to cameras to see me — Mr. Colonel would know that I was the one behind it. I'm the only electricon in the base and Cameron has just fixed the electricity, meaning that there shouldn't be any issues with it now. If there were ... Mr. Colonel would know exactly who to suspect. A tempting option, but not the wisest one.
So what did I do?
"Oh, wow," I said looking out my window. "That's a far way from the ground. Should I risk climbing down?"
The window.
No, I was not going to be like Rapunzel and grow my hair until it was too heavy to carry around. Nor was I going to throw a bunch of bedsheets out the window towards the ground. Both ideas wouldn't work anyways. They would have attracted the people responsible for patrolling the base below therefore blowing my cover. If I chose to do that, I wouldn't make it out of the gate before I was captured.
But I was lucky. I had to rely on what I had and that was the positioning of my room, which thankfully, was enough.
The way my room was set gave me a huge advantage in formulating another plan. The ground might be far below me, but there was another building I could've landed on. The top of it could stop my fall and this building wasn't that far below me. If I jumped far enough, I could pull myself onto it and make my way down gradually.
So that's all it was. I waited for the watchmen to change shifts and take leap of faith.
After that, all I had to do was climb down a ladder that was attached to the second building and make my way down towards the secret tunnels. The Scarlet Guard doesn't have cameras there; we don't need to if we're the only ones who know where they are.
It was a near perfect escape. Near perfect only because I'm going to count the margin of error that happened while I was running away.
"Did you hear that?" said a male Guardsman, staring up at the building I had landed on.
"No," replied his comrade. A female. "You've been hearing all of these random sounds as of late. Are you okay?"
Warren. My best friend. Maybe I could give into the desire to see him once more before I left. Just a glimpse, just one—
No. I can't. Not even because I shouldn't, but because my body is frozen. I don't dare move from my post lest I risk exposure.
"Oh, um ... yeah maybe," Warren mumbles. "I'm sorry, Aiya."
The girl laughs. "It's ok! "Maybe you just didn't get enough sleep?" she suggests. "C'mon, let's get going. We have to make our rounds here. The faster we make our rounds, the faster you can sleep right?"
"Yeah," Warren says softly, trailing off. "Yeah, yeah ... "
I heave out a sigh of relief. My family, Warren even, won't take kindly to me going missing. And this entire escape could have gone way worse if I made even the slightest of mistakes. I should be glad that I'm even alive.
But you see, I've given this a fair bit of thought. That's why it's near perfect. And that's why I'm alive.
If I had the time to, I'd gloat. Then again, I don't have time. You can only move so fast on foot and I'd like to maximize the distance between me and that hole of a fortress before I get to rest. By the time the sky turns red from the dawn, I'll be out of time.
As if on cue, the sun finally rises. Shoot. I'm out of time.
The Colonel will know sooner or later, as he always does. I need to keep moving or I'll be dragged back to the base where I'll be locked away in solitary confinement or have to suffer some marvellous punishment he'll gift me with.
"Keep moving," I grit to myself. "Keep moving."
The last time I've travelled on foot was when we were rescuing newbloods. Sometimes we didn't have the luxury to go back to base. So we ate scraps, and slept on the dirt floor always hoping we'd reach them before Maven did. My legs were always sore from the walking, but physical pain didn't matter to me as long as I knew I could save someone. Today, that's the reason driving me forward: saving my own mother.
It's funny really. I spent months, years with Mom crisscrossing through Norta, hiding out in the country's cracks for safety. I've always ever hid. For your safety, Mom always said. Now I'm out in the open, planning to run into the jaws of the beast. And that ... I won't be safe then.
There are a few options I could take: I could make it to Ocean Hill, or Summerton, or some other palace besides Whitefire. But the chances of this working are very slim. I'll only have a shot at getting Mom out if I go directly to Whitefire and it's too much of a risk to arrive at a separate palace and hope that you'll be transferred there.
Or at least, I think that's how it works. Maybe the king will make an exception. Either that or I can just make it to Whitefire on my own.
Easy enough. Maybe it'd be easier if I brought a map with me. Before I can even start to formulate a plan, I need to get there first. I've been walking for about 4 hours straight so I'm still close to the base, but I've put enough distance between it to rest for a little bit.
No. You can't rest. Keep moving.
It pays off. After moving for quite some time, I finally reach a village. It's still quite small in comparison to the Stilts, or any of the villages near the city for that matter, but it'll do for now. But it gives me what I need: a place to stay and a place to eat. All the walking has sapped me of my energy and I don't fancy falling unconscious in an unknown area.
I force myself to lift my eyes. They scan the town, looking for an inn, a bar, anything. A sign that reads "open" glows feebly a little while away. I guess I'll go there first.
The door of the bar is moldy and old, but surprisingly still functioning. The floors are also working, but the rest of the place seems dingy and unkempt. Most of the light bulbs flicker weakly and are attached to newly formed spider webs that have just gotten their new catch of flies. Overall, a very old and not well maintained place.
The bell rings as I enter, alerting the barkeeper up ahead. He gives me both a kind smile and a wave.
"Howdy traveler, how are you doing?" he says cheerfully, as I take my place on a wooden, rickety stool.
I give him a surprised glance. "How did you know I was traveler?"
"Oh, well," he grins, and passes me a clear glass of water, "when you're as old as me, you'll just know from experience. Besides, this town's small, I know everyone around here."
"I see."
"You're also quite an unusual girl," he remarks. "The people here, they don't dress like you."
I laugh, lowering my red hood. "Not many Red Riding Hoods here?"
The bartender just shrugs and winks. "Somethin' like that."
"Fun." The water is cool, and very refreshing. I knew travel wears heavily on the body but I didn't know how dehydrated I was. The water I brought with me must not have been enough.
I set the cup sets back onto the counter. "Thank you for the drink."
"No problem," he says, throwing a towel over his shoulder What can I get for ya? A sandwich, or something?"
"Whatever you have," I say. "Trust me, I'm not that picky."
"Coming right up."
He walks off happily, whistling folk tunes to himself as he slips past the curtains into the back. I take the few precious minutes to take a good look at my surroundings. There aren't many people in here, just me, a man sitting at a corner table with an oil lamp, and another cloaked lady sitting at the end of the counter. If I squint, I can make out a face but its hidden within the shadows of her hood.
The lady's shifts her head towards me, her blue eyes glinting through the darkness. It's frightening.
"Here ya go." I turn my head to see the man plopping down a plate and a cup in front of me. "A sandwich and another cup of water. I reckon you're too young for anything ... strong."
"You're right on that," I say, still eyeing the lady. "Thanks ... sir."
The bartender gives me a salute. "No problem."
I breathe out a sigh of relief as he finally walks away. Finally, a few moments of peace to myself. A few moments for me to each my sandwich. It isn't necessarily bad, with enough greens and a slice of cheese inside, but it certainly tastes a bit off. But the food's perfectly fine. Maybe I've just gotten used to the food at the base.
You shouldn't even be complaining, a voice in my head says. Remember that time where you had to hammer through bark just to get some sap?
Let's not think about that.
My silence is interrupted by the sound of the bell ringing again. I turn my head to see three big, burly men enter the bar. A little larger and they might even rival the strongarms of House Rhambos. But the red flush on their necks give it away. And they all reek of alcohol. The biggest of them even has a cigar in his mouth.
He pushes himself into the front of the group, grinning widely. "Hello James."
James. That's the bartender's name.
"What do you want, Bryce," James, who had been shining the cups, says. "I told you, we haven't had anything for a couple weeks now."
"Rubbish," said the man— Bryce. "I heard from a little bird that you've still got some of that strong stuff in the back."
The rest of the group nodded and mumbled in agreement.
"If you want some pure ethanol, you could have that," James suggests, still eyeing the group apprehensively. "And that's all I'm gon— can give you."
He's lying. James has other drinks in the back, he's just refusing to share them with this group. Understandable. I've seen what alcohol can do to people. I've seen what it could do to Dad and Farley. And judging on their first impressions on me, I'd also hide my stuff from them.
Bryce's grin grows even bigger. "Bring it on James. I'm waiting."
Throwing Bryce a look of pure venom, James slinks into the back again. It gives the men time to check their surroundings too.
"Well, aren't you a pretty flower," said Bryce, settling down on a chair beside me. "You know it's not every day I get to see a Red Riding hood like you."
I roll my eyes at his attempt at conversation. "Always a first for everything."
He takes this as a form of encouragement. "So, what makes you travel to this old town?"
"Same as yours."
James finally slinks out from the curtains again, with a separate glass that deceptively looks like water. He puts it down in front of Bryce with a look of disgust and walks away without another glance to continue shining the rest of his fancy glasses
"For a drink?" He laughs, slapping his palm against his knee. "You look far too young to be drinking."
"For an angel shot," I clarify, turning to him to giving a death stare. "Though frankly, I don't need one to deal with you. If I wanted to anyway."
That's when I notice, out of the corner of my eye, the lady at the end of the corner. She's watching us.
She's watching me.
"Considering how low-class you guys act, I'd be wasting my time," I continue. "Moth eaten shirts, holes, and a love for drinking ... definitely things that would attract women most."
A few words and a triumphant smile are enough to sweep the grin off his face. His ego's been bruised.
"Listen Missy," he breathes, huffing like an angry bull. The cup sits on the counter, forgotten. "You better learn to watch your mouth. Or else my cronies are gonna deal with you— and you know how that always goes."
"Like that's threatening," I say, sipping my water. One of his mates sidles up beside me, also staring at me angrily. "And these cronies you speak of. Who are they?"
"Chance," his comrade says in his dry, wheezy voice.
"Avery," the last one says.
"Fun." The glass settles onto the counter with a clink. "If you will excuse me—"
But Avery, steps forward, grabbing my wrist. "Nuh-uh, not 'till we're done with you. You realize, that's our leader you've just disrespected—"
WHAM.
As if I had willed it, Avery goes tumbling back, flying into the opposite wall with a resounding crack. The stores shakes violently, dust falling from the ceiling but remains upright and otherwise unharmed. Maybe there's some sort of reinforcement that prevents it from falling.
From the ground, Avery moans and lays still. I wouldn't be surprised if his spine broke or if he suffered a few broken bones from impact.
"Avery!" Chance cries, running over to his fallen comrade. "Avery!"
But Bryce remains in his seat, listening to his buddy's moans from the opposite side. His face is purple from rage, a vein throbbing at his temple like he's about to explode.
"How—" Bryce splutters flipping his head from side to side. "Who—"
His popping eyes land on me. "You did this didn't you! I'll kill you for it, I'll kill you—"
The sparks rise to my hand instinctively, ready to fight—
"No," says a voice from the side says, catching Bryce's attention. "I did."
I turn my head to see the hooded lady with her hand outstretched. Her hood has finally fallen off to reveal her face. Blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, and pale skin with a red flush underneath.
"You!" Bryce yells, his eyes popping. "I'll kill you!"
He stands, preparing to run, but he doesn't get to travel an inch. The lady has him locked in place. She's Red and abilitied, just like me!
Just like me.
"Don't ever come back," the lady says, glaring at the three men. "You're all a disgrace to Reds out there."
Then, without warning, the front door opens and she tosses them all out.
She's a telky.
I stare at the door, stunned. How, who, what—
"Don't make that face," the lady says. "Just take care of yourself. If it weren't for me, those guys might've just beaten you up."
"No, it's not that—"
But the lady's already slunk back into her spot in the far corner, hood up on her head again, her fingers drumming the counter like nothing had happened. She remains silent as she turns back to her own drink.
"Wait," I say, making my way towards her. "Wait you're a newblood?"
"Yeah," she replies, disinterested. Her fingers tap the rim of her glass, spinning the drink inside with the melting ice. "What do you want?"
"I didn't know," I say. "I just thought your powers were cool. And thanks for helping me back there."
"You deserve it honestly," said James, joining us from his usual shining routine. "You know those men are absolutely horrid. They come around here every time for a daily drink. And they don't even pay. I think they won't be coming back for a long time though and I have to thank you for that."
"Like it was something big," the lady says, rolling her eyes. "I just want to know what this midget wants."
James sticks his tongue out playfully and winks at the pair of us. "I'll leave you both to it." Then he slinks back into those curtains of his into a place unknown.
"So," I begin, sucking a breath, "where are you off too?"
"Whitefire," says the lady. "Why are you so concerned?"
"Because I'm off there too," I say, tiny sparks rising to my fingers. Her eyes widen out of shock as she stares at my hands. "I'm a newblood too."
"Like the Lightning Girl on TV," she says.
Yes. Like the Lightning Girl. Like my Mom. "I have to say, thanks for saving me though."
She snorts, "with powers like yours, you won't need saving."
"You still helped me." The lady doesn't respond, content with sipping her drink. "And since we're going to the same place, do you think we could travel together?"
"Travel together?" She gapes at me. "You hardly know my name."
"Then what's your name?"
"Allison," she says. "Two L's and a single I. You?"
"Dahlia," I reply. "Like the flower."
The flower known for her elegance, strength, and resilience. It never bows down to the cold winds. Or at least that's what Aunt Gisa had told me. She was the one who picked that name out for me anyway. Mom was too preoccupied with the war she left that decision to Gisa, with the one condition that'd it'd be a "good" one.
"Has a nice meaning behind it," Allison says. "I guess ... I guess when he called you 'Flower', it wasn't really that far off was it?"
"No," I reply. "But don't call me that."
"Little Missy Flower. Whatcha doing around here?" she says, imitating the low, gruff voice Bryce had. "I mean, it's not that bad."
"I have other nicknames you know," I say, rolling my eyes. "Dahlia, and Daly."
Allison shakes her head, downing the rest of her drink. "They're practically the same thing. And besides, I like calling you Flower the best."
Ugh. That's exactly what Aunt Farley does when she wants to get on my nerves! She wasn't wrong when she said that other people would've done the same was she?
"So," Allison says, breaking my train of thought, "you said you wanted to travel with me?"
"Uh, yeah," I reply. "Is this the part where I get rejected?"
A moment of silence. Then, "No."
No?
"I've found you to be quite interesting so far," she continues. "Here's the deal: we make travel to Whitefire together. But, no complaining. And no questions."
No complaining? No questions? "Deal."
"Got it." She jumps down from her chair and sweeps her travelling cloak over her shoulder "We're leaving now James!"
"So soon?" he asks, peeking from out the curtain. "Another drink maybe—"
"We gotta get going mate," Allison says, tucking her chair in. Then, she grabs my wrist and pulls me towards the door, partially by ability, and partially by strength. "Thanks though."
"Don't we have to pay?" I ask, trailing behind her. "We have to don't we—"
"That was a question Flower."
"On the house!" James shouts happily. "Safe travels you two!"
The old wooden door shuts with a bang. The little sound of the bell tinkling rings in the distance, growing fainter every second.
"Where are we going?" I ask, watching the little shop disappear into the distance. "Allison?"
"Call me Ally," she says, still dragging me by my wrist. "And no questions, Flower."
"Ally—"
"We have to keep moving," she grits. "There's another town up ahead if I follow the map. We're lucky because it'll be the last stop before we make it to Whitefire."
Whitefire. The place where Mom is. And it's so, so close. "What do you mean?"
"There's a carriage that'll take us there directly," Ally explains. "More like a long train but they're both the same thing."
A carriage. A train. So this is how Maven is able to "rescue" newbloods so fast. He has hidden these places in accessible areas so that we can be brought to "safety". Couple that with all the palaces he has made into safe houses ... the Guard won't really stand a chance after what Mom said too.
"How do you know?" I ask.
"Because if you listen to all the newbloods who've fled, they'll leave rumours and trails behind them," Ally explains. "And considering what His Majesty said, I'm sure he'd put a lot of stock into getting us to safety. Plus, the rumours wouldn't exist if there wasn't some basis of truth in them."
" ... wasn't that a question?"
"That's a question I'll answer just because you're a newblood," she says, letting go of my wrist. "I trust you can walk on your own now."
Of course I can. "I'll try to keep up with you."
"Good," she replies, her blue eyes glinting. "Let's go."
Then she walks away, briskly. All I have to do now it follow her.
A/N: So as you know, originally, she was not supposed to meet Ally, but another character (that I won't name in case this is your first time reading this). But I've decided to keep that one part of the original story in here and just changed who she met early on.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter though! I'm going to focus on some school work until then. Please feel free to review :)