Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

XV. An Unexpected Guest

Creaaak. Alia blinked, unsure if she'd opened her eyes, but all she could see was darkness. She might have seen the dimmest outline of the door, but when she blinked again it was gone. The faintest swishing sound passed by, and she squeezed her eyes totally shut, hoping they'd start working again.

"Move another inch and this dagger goes through your gut," hissed a woman's voice. "I just want a place to sleep without being threatened by anyone." Alia froze, but realized belatedly that it was coming from too far away to be directed at her.

"Mira?" That was Kit, sounding far more shaken than he'd been at any point until now.

Mira as in Mirabelle? Alia sat up suddenly, wincing as the hay poked through her dress and her legs protested at the movement.

"Gods, Kit? Silvertongue, what in the name of the First Scribe are you doing here?" Gods, it was Mirabelle. That voice was burned into Alia's brain forever.

"Sleeping. Mira, what are you doing here? Gavin said you weren't interested in helping." Kit's voice had gone entirely flat and emotionless, back to the way it had been all day.

Alia shifted her legs off the edge of the pile of hay, trying to stretch out her aching muscles.

"Oh, believe you me, I didn't want to be here." Mirabelle sounded incredibly bitter, but her tone shifted back to alert at the sound of Alia's movement. "Who else is here? Caddock?"

She didn't know whether or not to announce herself, and Kit didn't say anything. There was the rustling of fabric, and then the striking of a flint.

In the flash of light, Alia saw Kit, looking groggy and irritated. "Parchment and ink, Mira, fire in a gods-forsaken hay barn?"

The flint struck and a spark flared again, this time nesting in a small pile of hay at Mirabelle's feet. "It'll be fine," the woman said dismissively. "It's soaking wet outside, and I'll stomp it down if it starts to get out of control."

As the fire caught, Mirabelle crouched to feed it a few more handfuls of hay and then stepped back.

In the flickering light, Alia was startled to see that her idol didn't look beautiful or strong and imperious or intimidating. Well, maybe still the last one. Instead, the petite woman was disheveled, red hair drenched and falling out of a braid, clothes torn and bruises and scrapes all over her face.

"Kit, you didn't say. Who else is here?" She squinted back towards Alia's sleeping place, but the firelight didn't reach far enough to see.

From what Alia could see, Kit was too busy staring at Mirabelle's injuries in appalled shock to answer anything. She stood up shakily. "Alia," she said. It came out quieter than intended, and she could tell it was barely audible.

Mirabelle stepped closer, still squinting, and then suddenly her eyes widened, her expression hardened, and in a flash she had her elbow around Alia's neck and a dagger at her chin. Surprisingly, up close the hero was a few inches shorter than the serving girl, and the hold she used yanked Alia's neck sideways.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you where you stand, you little slut."

Alia could feel the cold metal of the dagger pricking at the soft underside of her chin, and her knees began to quake in terror. She thought she might pass out or throw up, but mercifully, her body decided to remain entirely still. Words tried to form in her mouth, but her jaw refused to unlock and only a whimper came out.

"By the unnamed-fucking-gods, Mira, put down the stupid dagger already. You're going to hurt someone." Kit sounded intensely irritated, but he made no move to free Alia.