Sun Queen

♛ Twenty-Seven ♛

I'm not sure how it was possible, but the fever has gotten even worse. We left the village yesterday after seeing our bounty posters. I didn't think the Darkling would be so public about losing me, as it makes me a target now, but I guess he was desperate enough to get me back.

It was harder now that we had to stay off the mains roads completely. Which meant bumpy, scraggly off the beaten path, barely visible trails that left my head pounding and my stomach emptying what little food I could keep down. At night, we would rest by the streams and rivers and I would submerge most of my body in the cold water. Yet nothing could break the fever. And I could tell by Mal's face that it wasn't getting better.

After he gives me his third worrying look of the morning, I do my best to roll my eyes. "Once we get to Fjerda I'll get help. I doubt the bounty posters have spread there."

He twists his shirt, squeezing out the water he used to clean it. I'm trying very hard not to stare at the broad, tanned chest that is glowing in the sun. A coughing fit rises in my throat and I turn away finally, hacking into the undergrowth. When I lean back, I gasp down at the grass.

A trickle of blood is dripping from my mouth, splattering brightly against the dead grass. I quickly rub the blood away and wipe my mouth before turning back to Mal. My body shakes from the sight of my blood and I force my mind not to dwell on it. I pray I can hold out for one more day. By late tomorrow we'll be crossing the border in Fjerda.

Mal helps me back onto the horse and I stifle my moans, stiff limbs creaking painfully to stay on. The mare starts running again and I'm lost to the cycle of dull pain and headaches once more.

Although the ridiculously overpriced bounties are still hanging over our heads, Mal and I agreed to stop in one small fishing port for food and supplies.

You could smell it before you see it, the stench of rotting fish and oozing salt from the sea. When the mare rounded up to the hill, we finally caught a glimpse of the port. It was small, barely one hundred people were living there at most. The shabby buildings were all built on top of each other on a small gray beach surrounded by the thick forest. It was absolutely miserable just to look at it.

As we approached it, I was relieved to find not many people milling about. It felt like a ghost town. The less people who saw us the better. Mal herds the mare into the stables of an inn donning a heavily chipped sign that proclaims: The Half-Headed Fish.

What a pleasant name, I mumble sarcastically to myself.

Mal helps me down into the hay in the stable and I lean backwards in relief. He makes sure I'm covered in blankets and hay before leaving, taking his worry with him. I wiggle deeper into the damp, cold hay bale and watch the mare pick at the ground.

I could feel another coughing fit tickling at my tongue and I turn to bury my face in the hay, glad Mal isn't here. There's more blood this time, but not enough that I can't hide it. I'm left with a woozy, raw feeling in my throat and I close my eyes, exhausted from coughing.

The stable door slams open and I look up, my breath ripped away at the girl standing before me. It can't be.

"Never thought I'd see you here." Zoya jokes as if we haven't seen each other for almost a year.

"I can say the same." My face stretching into a teasing grin.

My glum mood is immediately gone, washed away with the brightness of Zoya's kefta. I move to sit up, but a wave of nausea hits me back down. Zoya closes the stable door and leans to sit beside me.

"Mal told me it was bad." Her dark brows furrow and she puts a hand to my head. Zoya suddenly jumps back, cradling her fingers to her chest. I'm surprised to see a small red mark where her hand touched me.

We both stare at the burn mark and I feel sicken with guilt. "I'm so sorry." I whisper breathlessly, overwhelmed with surprise.

She looks around to make sure no one was near and then back at her hand. "When did this start happening?"

I open my mouth to tell her just now, but she points to the hay behind me. Sure enough, a burnt outline of my body is charred into the weak colored hay. I scramble back best I can without toppling over and sit in the middle of the stable just looking between Zoya's hand and the hay.

"What the hell is going on?" I whisper to myself.

Zoya wipes her hand on her kefta, "I don't know. But we need to get you out of here. Now."

"Why?" I stubble to my feet.

Zoya moves to help me, then retracts her hands back. We stare awkwardly for a moment, but she brushes it off the next second. "The Darkling has sent out his best Grisha to look for you. I've been assigned to most of the fishing port villages. Which are always delightful." Zoya makes a disgusted face and I'm happy to see she's still slightly spoiled, keeping her same Zoya charm.

"Mal and I ran into each other a few minutes ago and he sent me here to find you. Alina, listen." Her words grip my attention. "There's no way you're making into Fjerda. The Darkling has spies in every town and every forest, combing through for you."

I struggle to handle the news. "B-But, then where do I go?"

Zoya looks down quickly and I can feel the dread wafting off of her. "You won't make it through tomorrow." She says softly, "You need Grisha healers."

And then it clicked.

"You want me to return to the Darkling."

No, not after everything I've done to escape. I've worked too hard. I'll never get another chance.

Zoya pauses, then nods eventually. "Trust me, it's far from my first plan. But you can't die Alina." There's small crescents of silver in her deep blue eyes where tears well up.

"Have you talked to Mal about this?" I swallow.

"Yes, and he agrees. We just want you to be safe."

I scoff, then regret it as my throat flames up. "And the best thing is for me to be handed back to the Darkling?"

Before Zoya can answer I shake my head. "No. I'm finishing the journey to Fjerda. I'm going to at least try."

Zoya struggles to look back up, her beautiful face so full of sorrow. I hate to be the reason for her pain.

I'm surprised when she gives me a hug, the kind that never lasts long enough and by the end you are both crying.

When we pull away, Zoya's face has hardened to determination. "I'll do my best to deter the Darkling and give you a fighting chance."

"Th-Thank you." I stutter, taken aback that she agreed to let me go.

"It won't be easy and I doubt you'll make it, but I understand. You have to at least try." Zoya holds my shoulders, clutching at my dirtied, grayed purple kefta. "And if the next time I see you is in his hands......"

We both stay silent of that. I pray it never happens, but I have to give her one last hug before she helps me on to the mare. Mal is standing outside, nodding with a grin expression when Zoya and I inform him of my decision. He takes the reins again and I've barely waved my hand to Zoya before we're bolting away again.

I grip at Mal's torso and point my face to the darkening sky. My mind is still made up. We have to try, no matter what.