Fight or Flight

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Arms laden with new clothes and wares from the Night Market, I made my way back to the Murmuring Mug. Alannah had run ahead, frantic about getting some of her groceries in the ice bin as soon as possible.

The back alley was quiet. The distant voices of the shopping crowds a distant hum. The stones beneath my feet still held the day's warmth, and the scent of night-blooming jasmine, a flower Finnian had of course identified for me, hung in the air. I approached the back kitchen door, grateful for Alannah's earlier tour of the inn's entrances.

The new dress swished softly against my legs. I pushed open the door with my hip, stepping into the warm, aromatic embrace of the kitchen.

"Alannah?" I called softly, not wanting to startle her if she was busy. No response came.

Curious, I made my way towards the swinging door that led to the common area of the tavern. As I reached for the door, a hand suddenly gripped my arm, yanking me back. I yelped in surprise, my fingers instinctively clenched into fighting fists, but another hand clamped over my mouth, muffling the sound.

Before I could strike a punch, I heard a sharp warning from behind.

"Shh!" Finnian's familiar voice hissed in my ear. He slowly removed his hand from my mouth, his eyes wide with urgency.

"Finnian! What—" I began, but he pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing for me to listen.

Now that I was paying attention, I could hear voices from the other side of the door. They were unfamiliar, yet with an accent that caused my lips to press into a thin line: Riemanian.

Finnian and I crept closer to the door. Through the small window, I could see Alannah at the bar. Her posture was rigid and calculated. Across from her stood three hooded figures, their wings of owl, falcon, and eagle - unmistakably avian - tucked tightly against their backs. The bright streaks of their red season marks, just like Eylan's, screamed loudly against the dull colors of the wooden inn.

"Have you seen this avian woman?" the owl-winged one asked, sliding what looked like a sketch across the bar. Even from this distance, I recognized the drawing as a crude rendition of my own face and wings.

Alannah's eyes flicked briefly towards the kitchen, towards me, before returning to the hooded avians. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice steady. "I haven't seen anyone matching that description."

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure they'd hear it. I must not have been breathing because I felt Finnian place a steadying hand on my shoulder, a gesture of silent support.

"We have reason to believe she passed through here," the falcon-winged one pressed. "It's imperative we find her."

Alannah's laugh sounded forced to my ears. "Gentlemen, I run an inn. People come and go all the time. I can't be expected to remember every face, especially not some random avian."

The one with eagle wings leaned forward, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth. If we find out you've been harboring a fugitive..." He left the sentence hanging in the air.

I felt Finnian tense beside me at the Guardsman's blatant threat toward Alannah, his hand tightening protectively on my shoulder.

"Now," Alannah's voice was cold, all pretense of hospitality gone. "Unless you're planning on renting a room or buying a drink, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're disturbing my customers."

There was a tense moment of silence. Then, with a rustle of fabric and feathers, the Avians turned to leave. "We'll be watching this place," the owl-winged one said as they exited.