Illusion of Safety // DreamNotFound

Chapter 7

     Aster was perhaps easier to leave than to enter. With the presence of the Royal Guards, George expected the patrols to increase, or the roads to be blocked. Instead, there was radio silence. Perhaps they thought the two had died on the Fallen Star Islands, though to be fair, they should've.

     They retrieved the mare they'd stolen from her stable and packed their room, although there weren't many belongings to account for. Clay's limp had worsened, though his wound hadn't reopened thankfully, so he rode the horse. She was less than pleased to support his slumped weight in the middle of the night, but unlike the fae, she didn't complain incessantly.

     The streets were eerily empty, save for the occasional drunk stumbling along. George was understandably paranoid, and he had the tendency to check over his shoulder an unbearable amount of times. Clay must've noticed, because the air shimmered and an illusion settled over both of their bodies.

     The trader wasn't sure what it was until he looked at the fae and found his answer. An unknown face smiled down at him, dark brown hair and eyes wrinkled from smiling, the new stranger was the exact opposite of intimidating. Clay pointed to a window and George caught his own reflection with just as much surprise.

     His jawline had gotten wider and his hair was a shade of blonde that looked almost silver. The face staring back at him wasn't his own, not by a long shot, and it felt amazing. As long as he appeared this way outwardly, no guards could possibly recognize them.

     "Stop oolging yourself, Georgie," Clay snickered, and the trader was a bit uncomfortable being able to see his facial expressions. "Let's hurry up. It's a simple illusion but I'm already drained, so it could be unpredictable."

     They continued and George let his attention wane, drifting to the natural way Clay's fake face moved. He'd never imagined putting that voice with a face, especially after he'd grown so used to the mask. When the fae shifted, he knitted his eyebrows slightly, and when the horse made an exasperated noise, he cracked a lopsided grin.

    A selfish part of George wondered if this was only the illusion, or if he was getting a glimpse into what was typically hidden away. They made it to the edge of Aster far too quickly, and the city lights fell behind, blocking whatever view he'd previously fixated on. It was probably for the best, though, because they were approaching where there was usually a patrol.

     Aster had a very predictable guard patrol, and George considered himself an expert of avoiding them. Previously, it had just been a hassle to answer their questions, but as an outlaw it was even worse. They had no time to plan their escape, so it was inevitable that they'd have to interact at some point.

     That point came far sooner than they liked, but Clay urged the horse on and George was forced to trust his illusion. Five armed guards waited on the path ahead of them, perking up at the sight of civilians. The trader planned to create a lie on the spot, but his throat seized up when he noticed one of the men in the patrol wearing a special crest.

     The royal guard looked half-asleep, and if George had to guess, he probably drew the short stick to end up with that job. It wasn't Calvin or Techno, but that didn't mean they could relax. Each member of the esteemed group was terrifyingly skilled, and George knew they couldn't afford another encounter.

     "Halt," a normal patrol guard shouted, sounding like he dreaded this aspect of his job. Clay slowed the horse to a stop, and they approached. "State your business."

     "We're on our way to Indus," the fae said, and George blinked. Somehow, his companion had changed his voice to a more pleasant, higher version. It hardly sounded like Clay, not that he was complaining. "My husband wanted to get there as soon as possible, so we're heading out a little early."