Wildbound by Elayne Audrey Becker

Author:Elayne Audrey Becker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

SIXTEEN

RORA

As planned, Merisol slipped Gemma’s drawing of prisoners and cages beneath the printing press’s door. The next issue of their local leaflet is set to publish in three days.

We wait to see whether the drawing makes it in.

In the meantime, I slip back into the role I once performed for King Gerar, now with the intention of helping his three children. Ironically, I do so wearing the guise of his former Royal Guard.

It’s uncomfortable to walk the castle as Carolette. To chafe against the gold-trimmed uniform’s woolen clutch and meet the eyes of people younger than I am, older, wealthier or poorer, somber or brimming with cheer. Nearly all of them give way, the scattered individuals parting like crows at the sight of a cat. In Castle Roanin, people viewed me as a harbinger of death, and I knew it to be folly, refused to believe the Prediction’s dire warning fell to my shoulders. In Oraes, people look at me as a harbinger of death, and they are right.

She already turned once. That’s the message stamped into their watchful gazes, plain as day. She betrayed the king she served. Who’s to say she won’t do it again?

I know I’m running on borrowed time. Busy as he is, Jol will eventually learn of Carolette’s absences and missed City Watch shifts, not to mention the lack of follow-up on Ember Street. Still, if avoiding suspicion relies on bringing people in for punishment, exile, or death, I’m not willing to make the trade. All I can do is take advantage of the days I have left.

And so, squaring my shoulders, I cast aside the pointed looks and hunt for information that Violet might find useful. First, I study the castle’s vast interior, attempting to memorize the layout as best I can. I linger on dark stone staircases and press my ear to the doors in tapestry-lined corridors, searching for intel or individuals who may possibly break, if only I figure out how to apply the right sort of pressure. At meals, I camp out at the long tables and roaring hearths spiraling out from the kitchens underground, ready for the staffers to let something slip over their pints of ale and stories about the wealthy folk above.

Every evening, after Jol finishes at the piano, I dig through the contents of his private study. My first major find is a set of inked designs for evil-looking wooden contraptions on wheels—siege weapons clearly intended for battering stone. My stomach turns, imagining the horns ramming holes into defenseless old buildings like Briarwend’s homes and halls, the wide slings flinging rocks large enough to crush soldiers and civilians alike, in addition to puncturing ceilings and walls. If these weapons were to reach Telyan, or fortune forbid, Fendolyn’s Keep—

By the light of a single candle, I unearth blank parchment and copy down the designs, along with a commanding officer’s report. In a pre-dawn visit to the catacombs, I pass them to Solet for their next falcon south.

As I

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