The Golden Warrior by M. Lynn

Author:M. Lynn [Lynn, M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: M. Lynn

Maiya launched herself at Etta when they barreled through the door into the relative safety of the old healer’s residence.

Etta sagged against the younger girl, too tired to protest, as her pain worsened once again. Pressing her lips together, she pushed Maiya subtly and held her at arm’s length, trying to hide the way each movement hurt.

She was too anxious to get moving again to stop for a moment to heal. Maiya’s magic had lasted less than a full day before the curse returned in force.

Releasing Maiya, Etta stepped back.

“Did you get what I asked for?” Edmund ran a hand over his tired face and through his bright hair.

“Sort of.” Maiya walked to the door. “I could only get one horse, but I did manage something else.”

She took a candle from its place on the wall and led them to the alleyway. Edmund sighed. “A cart? How are we to travel swiftly with this?”

A scrawny horse was tied up next to it and Edmund glared at it.

“There is nothing in the village to be bought,” Maiya claimed defensively. “It wasn’t for lack of trying. At least with Verité, we can tie them both to the wagon and pass as ordinary travelers on the road.”

Etta snorted and they both turned to look at her. “Sorry, I’m just imagining the look Verité will give me when I tell him I’m tying him to this broken-down heap.” She suppressed the laughter attempting to break through. “But, honestly, Edmund and I are some of the most recognizable faces in Gaule.”

“I’ve thought of that too.” Maiya led them back toward her old shop. “Come with me.”

Back inside, she picked up a blade from the table and handed it to Etta. Etta studied the engraved steel and lifted her eyes to her friend. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Make yourself invisible.”

As the meaning sank in, Etta’s eyes widened. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and ran her hand over the intricate loops and twists. Her hair was who she was. When she was killing, it made her feel human. When all she felt was the curse, it grounded her.

“No,” she said, walking past Maiya to sit in front of the looking glass. She dropped the knife on the table.

“You can’t ask her to do this,” Edmund whispered.

“Not just her, Edmund. People know you for your looks as well. We don’t have much time.”

Etta unraveled her braid, letting her fingers sink in to the silky strands she knew so well. Her eyes drifted shut as she pictured Alex stroking each lock. It’d made her feel like a woman when little else had.

Edmund appeared behind her, brush in hand, and dragged it through her hair. Her eyes met his in the looking glass. Could she still be Persinette Basile without the well-known golden mane?

He rested his chin on her head. “For Alex.”

She nodded. “For Bela.”

He reached out and took the knife she’d dropped. After gathering her hair, he sawed through the strong fibers. When he was finished, her choppy hair rested at her ears.

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