Half of Ruby

Chapter 40 (Part 3)

"Running away?" 

Ronan nodded, eyes aglow. "What, do you want to stay here? Come on, Ember—let us pack and go." 

She was frozen. 

"What?" said Ronan. Anxiety laced his expression as he stepped forwards. "Are you—do you want to?" 

"Yes!" exploded Ember, charging forwards, barely restraining herself from hugging him again. "Yes, of course I want to!" 

A relieved grin burst across Ronan's face. "I brought essentials here. That is why—"

"Oh!" Ember jumped up and down with excitement. "That was why you were gone all day! I was worried sick and—" 

Ronan laughed, a sound so charged with life that she wanted to cry. "I need to see this side of you more often, Ember." 

She blushed, shying away as he stepped forwards. She flinched as his hands found hers, clasping them to his chest. 

"Ember," he said. "Look at me." 

Her breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze. Those hazel eyes burned through the coldness of the night, steadfast against the winter wind. 

"When we leave," said Ronan, "we will have a future together. We will build a little house and grow our own vegetables. We will forget everything that ever happened in this cursed town. And we—if you want—we can—we can start our own family." 

A lump welled up in Ember's throat, tears budding at her eyes. 

"Is that what you want?" he asked. 

Unable to speak, she could only manage a nod.   

A grin burst across Ronan's face, a grin more radiant than the stars and moon above. "Then let us go pack. There is a basement under this house, hidden behind the oven. Even if Betty and Thomas find this location, we can hide there." 

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan." 

Hand in hand, they walked into the house. 

Ronan gestured at the room down the hall. "There are two sacks there—one for me and one for you. The brown one is yours. I also brought over a more comfortable change of clothes for you." 

She nodded. "Thank you." 

"As for the ball gown...you can leave it here. Or you could bring it with you. But it would take up too much—"

Ember shook her head. "I shall leave it here." 

Ronan nodded. "Then go change. I have my own set of clothes in the basement." 

They separated, she nearly running into the room and closing the door behind her as he headed into the kitchen. 

Two packs laid on the bed, ready to go—one of brown leather and the other black. Atop the neatly-folded bed rested a set of clothes—a cream-colored brunswick and thick cotton petticoat, a dark brown traveling cloak and white hair cap, complete with a pair of woolen chestnut gloves. 

She freed her hairpiece, pulling out the braids one by one and setting the pins onto the bed. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders as she hurriedly slid out from the mud-stained ball gown. The silk dress crumpled to the ground, and she bit her lip as she nudged it aside. Despite its ruined, torn state, she could not help but feel a twinge of regret. 

The hoop skirt was next. Gritting her teeth, Ember struggled against the confines of the garment, fingers clambering over the back of the dress without avail. 

Hissing with frustration, Ember tugged her blade towards her, pinching the fabric of the hoop skirt outwards as she slashed the dagger down the silk. The silver steel tore through the material like an ax cleaving through clay, and the bodice of the hoop skirt crumpled away, allowing her to step out of its remainders.