Daughter of Ice and Fire

Forty-Three

Lihleih stood in front of the door, debating about remaining or trying to find something else to do. Anything else. She had tried putting off the meeting that was to follow for as long as possible and still held a small thread of hope it could be avoided. Maybe the occupant was elsewhere, she silently hoped. Or maybe she could say she knocked but no one answered, so she left. Clasping her hands and fighting the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her skirt, she fought with herself even as she tried to decide what she would say. And how much she would be forced to reveal.

The morning after the disaster with the King, she had woken, surprised not only to still be alive but to not hear any signs of pursuit as well. She had crept to the river and listened carefully. Other than the quiet rush of the water and the normal sounds of an early morning forest, she heard nothing. But she wasn't foolish enough to think she could hide out here for any length of time. The clothes she had tossed in the river might buy her a day, maybe two, but when the King realized he had been duped, he would send every person he could lay his hands on after her. She had one option and one option only. It meant going back to a place that had haunted her dreams for years.

Sighing heavily, she bathed quickly in the chilly water, had a meager breakfast of the now stale bread and a hunk of cheese, Consumed one of the oranges without allowing a certain memory to invade, then repacked everything so it wasn't as bulky. The path she now traveled was rough and only going to get rougher. And it was long. She needed to find a horse. Without one, she had very little chance of reaching her destination before she was caught. Without any coin, she was going to have to figure out how to take it without anyone realizing. That meant stealing one. Or, as she tried to convince herself, borrowing it for a substantial amount of time. Sighing again, she offered a quick prayer to her patron Goddess for sparing her life, then set out, determined to put as many leagues behind her as she could.

Discovering her boots were still soaked, she opted to walk barefoot for a while. The water was icy, and she exited several times, balancing on slick rocks so as not to leave any footprints. Despite the turning of the seasons, the sun was still warm enough to cause her to sweat. Deciding a brief break was in order, she stretched out, tilting her face to the sky, and fell asleep, dreaming of a man she would never see again.

When she woke several hours later, her spirits had sunk, and she forced herself to continue the journey. Hopelessness dogged her steps and she spent much of the trek convincing herself that if she made it to the only place left that could provide her with safe haven, everything would be fine. But deep down, she knew it wouldn't. She would never be turned away and many would greet her with open arms. Her destination would be a refuge, a place to escape the King's wrath, but she knew it was going to cost her. Dearly.

Her boots now dry, she put them on and walked along the river's edge, taking care to stay on the hard-packed dirt. She knew she should enter the water again in order to confuse the scent hounds the King would eventually send, but she was tired of cold, wet feet. Picking up the pace, she began to jog, grateful she had included that in the training she had done with Gauthier.

Two more days passed in much the same fashion. She was heading north, following the river, and periodically entering it to throw off her scent. She also switched sides, walking away for a league or so, then doubling back over her own path and entering the river once again. The days were still warm enough for her to remove her cloak as the sun crested. The nights, however, were getting colder, and she was forced to pull one of the heavier tunics she had taken from the cabin out of the sack when she stopped for the night. Putting it on, she fought off tears when the fabric slid past her nose, filling her with Averit's scent. But Averit was now a part of her past. If she wanted to live, she had to forget him. Which worked for exactly five minutes. Then her thoughts would inevitably return to him, and she fought the despair all over again.