Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next daydawned cold and damp. The Soraers of the Shield were subdued, except for Belle. She’d risen early and bathed. Her hair was neatly bound in braids and crowning her head. Her gown had been spot-cleaned, and the sash for the waist was snugger than usual, outlining her curves. She kept batting her lashes and smiling at Maric, who did nothing to discourage her.
It sickened Agathe. A grown man, encouraging the fawning. It just proved his kiss was but a sham.
The horses that emerged from the hole in the bottom of the massive tree were thick creatures with long gray manes and shaggy cuffs of hair around their hooves. They were also terrifyingly tall.
Maric and his men mounted the steeds and, one by one, held out hands to the Soraers to ride with them. It led to some consternation, as Korra’s robe wasn’t made for straddling. Naam fixed it by arranging her sideways in front of him.
Belle stood and waited for Maric to do the same for her, only he pointed to Lior. “The Blessed rides with you, middle of the pack.”
Belle scowled, and Agathe imagined she also gnashed her teeth when Maric trotted in Agathe’s direction and offered her a hand instead.
She arched a brow. “Who says I want to ride with you?”
“Get on or stay behind. Your choice.”
When put that way… She gripped his fingers encased in thick gloves and was pleased when he chose to let her sit behind him rather than tucked in his lap like the girls. Venna and Hiix also rode astride behind some soldiers, arms wrapped around waists, their eyes agog with fear and excitement. Baer glared at Pol, who’d paired with Hiix. The big man didn’t seem happy about it. Then again, his already oversized horse probably would have collapsed with any more weight.
As they set off at a trot, Agathe felt a thrill that wasn’t all about the new mode of transport. Being this close to Maric warmed her through and through, and there was no escaping it. She couldn’t give herself any distance without falling off.
As they traveled into the forest, following a wide, maintained road, she couldn’t help but ask, “How far can the horses travel in a day?”
“Depends on the route and their cargo. Given we’re doubled up, we’ll probably make it only to Lakesedge by nightfall.”
A prediction that proved wrong, as the clouds that’d gathered during the late morning dumped their load of rain. It poured hard enough that they had no choice but to stop early in a small hamlet with a tavern that offered a few rooms and a stable. Not enough space to house them all, which was why the two young acolytes—along with Venna and Hiix—shared the attic room, and Agathe made herself a spot to guard them at the bottom of the ladder leading into it.
Maric happened to notice when he retired to the room he’d scored for himself. “What are you doing?” he barked, standing over her.
She lifted her head and stared up. Up. Up. “Making sure no one else disappears.”
“I’ve got my men watching the inn.”
“Good. Then I expect not to be disturbed.” She tucked her chin and ignored him.
“Go to bed.”
“I am and would like it if you left me alone.”
“You are not sleeping on the floor.”
“You’re right, I’m not, because someone won’t be quiet.” She glared at him.
He didn’t seem bothered at all. His brows furrowed as he said, “Take my bed. I will stand watch in your stead.”
“No need.” She didn’t understand his insistence. The arrogant general knight shouldn’t care if her body ached from a restless night on a hard floor.
He sighed and left, entering his room, only to emerge with a blanket and a pillow. He slumped beside her, nudging her with his shoulder. “Move over and give me some room.”
“What are you doing?”
“You are not the only one who can be stubborn.”
“It’s pointless for both of us to have a poor night’s rest.”
“You’re right. You should use my bed.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “And people say I’m stubborn.”
The grin shaved not only years from him but also some of the strict, unrelenting nature. He appeared—
Like danger.
Purely and utterly dangerous.
Yet, as they sat against the wall, not saying anything, barely touching, she’d also never felt safer. She fell asleep, and into a dream.
“There you are.” Maric smiles at me, and my heart flutters. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and he is interested in me.
“Do you have time to go for a stroll?” I ask coyly, fluttering my lashes.
“I have all the time in the world for you, my love.” He grabs me by the hand, and we find a quiet place where we won’t be interrupted. Good, because I am hungry for his kisses.
I fall into his arms, and my lips part so that he might plunder. His embrace consumes me, and my knees weaken. He catches me, his hands under my bottom, tugging me close. I cling, wanting to get even nearer. My blood is on fire. Literally boiling and burning and…
Is that smoke?
“Fire!” A hand shook Agathe, and she roused slowly, blinking in confusion before coughing.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice dry and raspy.
“The inn is on fire,” Maric explained. “We have to get out.”
Immediately, she rose and, in the same motion, sheathed her sword. She gripped the ladder. “I have to get my Soraers.”
“Quickly. I’m going to check the other rooms.”
Smoke chasing her, Agathe clambered into the attic to find everyone still sleeping, deeply. Unnaturally. She shook them. Watched them rouse and blink sleep from their eyes. Groggier than warranted given they’d skipped the sleepy-time tea tonight.
“We have to go. The building is on fire,” Agathe repeated over and over as she got them moving. The rising smoke thickened and tickled the throat.
Hiix climbed down the ladder, only to return. “The flames are climbing the stairs from the main level.”
“Then we’ll go out a window. From the floor below the attic, it’s not too far to the ground.” One by one, her Soraers climbed down, with Venna second to last, her breath huffing. She managed a yell as she glanced upward with fear. “Hurry, Agathe! The fire’s reached the hall.”
Agathe began her descent but was only halfway down the ladder when the flames jumped and began chewing at the bottom rung. It also crept towards the door Venna peered anxiously from.
“Close it and get out!” Agathe yelled.
“But—”
“I’ll climb onto the roof and shimmy down.”
It sounded great in practice. Until she shoved open the window enough to look out. There was no ledge to grip, but the sloped roof was near enough. If she moved with care, she could grab it and get on top. Not that getting higher on a burning building seemed the best idea. But the ground was awfully far from the attic.
The window was knocked out easily enough, meaning she could sit her butt on the ledge and lean out to grab the roofline. She’d taken in a deep breath, readying to swing into action, when Maric bellowed, “What are you doing?”
She glanced down. “Climbing. Duh.” She reset her grip.
“You need to go down, not up.”
“Down looks very hard.”
“I’ll catch you,” Maric brashly declared.
The suggestion had her laughing. “I’d squash you flat.”
“You don’t have a choice.” As if to punctuate his claim, the flames licked up the ladder, and smoke billowed from the room through the window.
She coughed and knew she’d run out of time when her toes got warm. Fingers dug into the shingle, she pushed herself out at an angle where she could kind of bend and get onto the roof.
Which was when the whole building shifted.
And she fell.
