Flames of Ashmore

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Rowan

The dungeons stank. I sat on the ground, my dress covered in the wet, grimy filth of the stone floor, and listened to the water dripping from the ceiling. Drip, drip, drip. The Harlow Springs jail was built into the side of the mountain, hollowed out of the dark rocks underground. The entire place was a breeding ground for mold and other disgusting growths. The mildew growing around the puddle had long since desensitized my nose, but the constant water hitting the green fungi was driving me close to insanity.

Drip, drip, drip.

The heavy iron door at the end of the corridor creaked open, hitting the stone wall with a bang. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought it was the younger guard, come back to haunt me again. I hadn’t caught his name, but I’d seen that awful look in his eyes enough to last a lifetime. The last thing I needed was another encounter when I was near starving and the incessant dripping was plaguing my existence.

Footsteps echoed off the walls as the person came closer, and I found myself wishing I had a weapon of some sort to fend them off. In a place where prisoners await their deaths, I would think there would be a rusty nail laying around for me to use. At the very least, maybe a sharp rock, but no, it was just me and the disgusting mold, waiting amidst the drip, drip, drip, for whatever destiny had in store. Whoever he was, I was at his mercy.

And we both knew it.

I forced myself not to look at the visitor until he finally came to a stop directly in front of my cell. Slowly, I brought my eyes up, taking him in from toe to hair. The boy who stood in front of me was not much older than I was. He wore soft, worn, brown leather pants tucked into scuffed black boots, and the wool of his uniform was dyed a deep, wine red. His coat looked as if it had seen better days; even the iron buttons were rusted. He raked a hand through sandy blond curls, sweeping them away from his face as he watched me with serious, tawny eyes.

I knew I should be wondering about the rugged stranger, but for some reason I couldn’t explain, I was fixated on the thin white scar jutting through his left eyebrow. It gave him a roguish appearance I couldn’t help but find appealing. Everything about him spoke of travel and adventure, of freedom and danger. He exuded everything I’d always wanted out of life.

If only mine wasn’t about to end.

“Rowan Harper?” He was clearly skeptical. Who did he think he would find in this grotesque cell? The last Seer of Milesia? I gave a curt nod.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an iron key ring and fit one of the keys into the lock. He turned it, jarring the tumblers with an audible click. The cell door creaked open.

Neither of us moved.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the boy sighed. “You know I’m letting you out, right?”

Ten seconds ago, he was all royal professionalism and stoic demeanor. I liked the annoyed version of him better. “I’ve been arrested,” I told him, not sure he understood. “For doing high magic. I can’t go anywhere.”

“Sure, you can. Get up and walk.”

In answer, I raised my manacled hands, jingling them twice for emphasis.

The boy stepped into the cell, key in hand, then stopped. He eyed me again. “You’re not going to bite me or anything if I let you go, are you?”

I bared my teeth. “Why don’t you unlock me and find out?”

The two of us stared at each other in silence. I could almost hear him waiting for me to break first. Fine. If that’s what it took to get me out of this blasted dungeon, I would break. Holding up my hands in surrender, I smiled. This time, it was for real. “I promise I won’t bite you.”

Reluctant, he crouched down in front of me, taking my hands in his. The heavy weight of the iron manacle clanked to the ground, sloshing into the muck. It felt so good to be free. Gripping my arm, he helped me to my feet.

“Thank you.” The skin around my wrists was red and raw, tender to the touch. Thank you, captivity. “Not that I’m ungrateful or anything, but who are you? And why are you setting me free?”

“Do you always question when luck turns your way?”

“Most days, yeah.”

The boy sighed again. “My name is Aron Gallagher. I’m part of the Royal Army, and I’ve come to take you to the Choosing.”

All the color fled from my cheeks. The Choosing. The one place I longed to be and was now terrified to go. I was a nobody in the Realm of Ashmore. Hardly anyone knew me in Harlow Springs. Now this soldier wanted to break me out of jail and whisk me away to Deithe? “Why?”

“Because the Seer told me to.”

Every thought in my mind collided with the next, as if glass broke, and I was watching the shards fall around me in the dark. “The Seer sent you to get me?” My voice caught in my throat. “Why me?” It was common knowledge the Seer didn’t bother herself with trivial, mundane things such as regular people’s lives unless it had to do with the gods. That she’d sought me out directly didn’t bode well for my future. I was to go to the Choosing.

Aron shrugged. “I’m a soldier, my lady. I do as I’m bid.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the cold raced down my arms. None of this made sense. The girls Chosen at the Choosing usually had gifts that made them powerful. I couldn’t do magic—high or low—and I’d never been more than a few miles from home. I couldn’t even produce a goddess flame for crying out loud. What could the old woman possibly want with me?

It was hard to tell in the torchlight, but I thought he was smirking at me. “What?”

“Nothing. Just trying to figure out what’s special about you, is all?”

“There’s nothing special about me.” Wrapping my arms around myself, I followed him out of the cell and down the passageway, eager to get out of the dungeon.

“So it would appear. But the Seer sent me to fetch you herself, so there must be more to you than meets the eye.” Hauling the heavy door open again, he held it out for me.

It was the first beam of sunlight I’d seen in a full day. Sure, it was coming in through the window, bent by glass, but it was still warm. And it was marvelous.

“What do you mean the Seer sent you to get me?”

“Just as I said. She told me three days ago to travel down to Harlow Springs, that there was someone I needed to bring to Deithe by the Choosing. She said she’d fixed it so you’d be waiting at the City Center for me. I had no idea she meant you’d be waiting in jail.” His tawny eyes twinkled with amusement.

“It was the Seer? The Seer had me thrown in jail?”

My escort raised a brow. “For a crime I’m assuming you didn’t commit?” Pursing my lips, I studied the floor boards. “That’s what I thought.”

It was strange enough that the Seer had taken an interest in me, but her choice in my companion was also interesting. I quite enjoyed his sense of humor. But why he was so close with the Seer was another mystery. “Who are you?”

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but before he could reply, the younger guard burst into the room, yelling at the top of his lungs. “She’s not going anywhere!” A deep purple bruise was blooming on his cheekbone, and the skin below his eye had been split. The soldier was livid. “You bastard, you can’t take her!”

His shouts were drowned out some by the older guard and another who must have just come on duty. They were hollering back at him, trying to get a grip on his arms. His face was bright red as he tried to get at me, and there was murder in his eyes. I was a plaything he wanted to possess—and now he never would.

“Collect yourself, soldier,” the older guard barked. “Can’t you see we’re in the presence of royalty?”

Suddenly, the room went quiet. My gaze snapped at Aron. His jaw twitched. Royalty. He was certainly handsome enough, but judging by his clothing, surely not. Though I had to admit, there was something about the way he stood, the way he held his shoulders, that whispered maybe.

“He’s not royalty,” the younger guard spat. “He’s just a cur come to take what doesn’t belong to him.” His thin lips curled up in a sneer. They puffed out again when the other soldier elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.

“You’ll hold your tongue, soldier,” the older one said. “This here is Prince Aron of the House of Gallagher. You will show your respect.”

The prince. Of course, he was. Because that made all the sense in the world.

Calm and collected, Aron stepped in front of me, his hand hovering above the hilt of the sword attached at his hip. The look on his face went from alarmed to calculating in one smooth motion. This wasn’t the first time he’d faced the darkness plaguing the realm.

“Ah,” I said. “Now I see it.”

A smirk curled the edge of Aron’s lip.

The older guard stepped forward, removed his hat, and dropped into a bow. “Beggin’ your pardon, Highness. The youngin’ didn’t recognize you. I assume you have the proper release papers for the girl?” Reaching into his jacket pocket, the prince provided a scroll. Silently, the soldier unrolled it and read. Clearing his throat, he handed it back. “Seems everything is in order. There’s an inn right up the road if you’d like to freshen up.”

Aron nodded. “What’s your name, sir?”

The soldier stood up tall, his back ramrod straight. “Captain Thomason, Highness. At your service.”

Stepping closer, Aron dropped his voice and leaned in close to the captain. “The darkness has infected that one,” he said, nodding to the soldier still struggling against his captors. The captain’s eyes went wide, fear washing over his face. “You need to get him to the nearest temple. The priestesses there should know what to do.”

Clearing his throat, Aron stepped back and raised his voice for the rest of the room to hear. “Thank you, Captain, both for your efficiency and your hospitality.” He met the young man’s eyes, and I felt every bit of condemnation he directed in his gaze. The soldier glared back at him. “I do hope your teachings reach even the lowest employed here. I would hate to think what Her Majesty would do if she discovered citizens being treated like Miss Harper, here.”

The soldier’s face went red with rage, but one sharp look from Captain Thomason and he settled once more, content to rage silently.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” the captain said.

Aron clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you will. I’ll be sure to pass that along as well. The island needs more men of integrity upholding its laws.” This time, he glanced sideways at me. “And less of its citizens willing to break them.”

For a moment, I wanted to crumble beneath that look, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I forced my face into the same passive expression I used when my mother scolded me; a look that revealed nothing.

With one last goodbye to the soldiers, Aron led me out of the jailhouse. The warm sunshine caressing my skin was welcome, but it reminded me how desperately I needed a bath. I made a face.

“We should probably go to the inn so you can wash up, shouldn’t we?”

I bit my lip. “Are you really taking me to Deithe?” Aron nodded. “In that case, I’d like to go back to my house before making the journey. There are some things I need to gather, and I’d love to wear clean clothes. It isn’t far,” I hurried on when he hesitated. “Just a mile or so out of town.” Enough to keep me separated from everyone else in Harlow Springs. My mother spun her plans well.

“I suppose that wouldn’t put us too far behind schedule. And it wouldn’t hurt for you to have clean clothes. You smell a bit ripe.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He grinned at me. This time, the smile went all the way up to his eyes. Huffing out a breath, I crossed my arms over my chest and followed him to the hitching post at the end of the lane. A beautiful brown mare was tied with a length of rope. Aron patted her lovingly on the rump.

Smitten, I approached her as softy as I could, holding out my hand for the mare to sniff. When she didn’t pull away, I stepped closer and nuzzled her cheek. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” The horse nudged my hand, looking for treats. Both the horse and I turned to Aron expectantly.

He rolled his eyes. Reaching into the saddle bag, he produced an apple and a dagger. He sliced the apple with quick, deft strokes and handed it to me. “You’re going to be more trouble than you’re worth, aren’t you?”

“Of course not.” I beamed at him. “I’m entirely worth it.” Taking the apples, I held them out for the horse. “What’s her name?”

“Karah.”

“Okay, Karah.” I nuzzled her nose with my cheek. “What do you say you give His Majesty and me a ride, hmm?”



* * *



The journey to my house didn’t take long. I’d settled myself soundly on Karah, trying not to think about how close I was pressed against Aron. I’d never been that close to a boy in my life, let alone a prince. Every bump in the road settled us closer, and I was sure my cheeks were as red as my mother’s strawberries in summer. I muttered a silent prayer, grateful to whatever gods were looking down on me that he couldn’t see my face.

The house was dark when we arrived. No smoke rising from the chimney, nor a lantern burning on the post. I wondered if Spencer had managed to find Mama after I got arrested. But Ada was a full day’s ride from Harlow Springs. She couldn’t be back yet if she wanted to be. If I was being honest, I was glad Mama wasn’t there. No way would she let me go to Deithe for the Choosing. After the last two days, I didn’t have the energy to fight her.

While Aron waited outside, I ran up the stairs to bathe. The tub was cold without one of my mother’s warming spells, but even so, the water slushing down my back was heaven, easing the ache in my sore muscles. Sleeping on a disgusting stone floor wasn’t great for my comfort level. When I was clean, I dressed quickly in soft brown trousers and a white tunic. I knew the tradition of wearing white to the Choosing, but I didn’t own a white dress. Even my tunic had a light brown floral design embroidered onto the edges.

After tying my hair back in a long, thick braid, I grabbed my knapsack and hastily shoved in another set of clothes and the few belongings I refused to leave home without. Along with the knife I’d received last year on my birthday, I packed my father’s book and Mama’s tarot cards. I’d spent hours looking at the cards as a kid; so much so, she finally let me have them. I didn’t believe they contained any magic or could tell the future but leaving without them felt like a bad omen.

I took one last look around my room. It wasn’t much; a colorful quilt my mother made, a wardrobe full of handmade dresses and tunics, a small wooden box filled with trinkets and interesting rocks I’d found on my hikes through the woods, and a shelf crammed with every book I’d been able to get my hands on since I learned to read. I must have read them all at least half a dozen times. The only thing of true sentimental value was a portrait of me when I was twelve, posing with my mother the day we got Scout. Spencer had drawn it for us. It was one of the only portraits we had in the house, and the only one where Mama had truly been smiling. After a moment’s hesitation, I opened the frame, folded the portrait in half, and shoved it in my knapsack. I didn’t know when I would see my mother again, but at least the photo would keep me company in Deithe.

In the kitchen, I raided the cold box and the fruit basket. Anything I could fit in my pack, I took. Mama always returned home with ample stores. She wouldn’t miss the little we still had in the cold box. Looking around for paper, I scrawled her a hasty goodbye and walked out the door.

Aron was leaning against the porch post, chewing on a sprig of hay when I came out. “Have everything?”

“And then some.” I tossed him another apple and grinned when he caught it without a hitch. “But if you think I’m riding all the way to Deithe on that pretty mare of yours, you’re crazy. Be right back.”

Leaving him frowning behind me, I slipped into the barn. Scout was waiting for me at the front of his stall. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I breathed in the sweet, rustic smell. Other than Mama, there was no one I loved more than Scout.

“Ready for an adventure, boy?” Stroking his nose, I attached the heavy lead rope and led him out into the barn. It didn’t take me long to tack him up. I’d done it so many times, I could do it in my sleep. When I was ready, I shoved his saddle bags full of feed, filled as many canteens as I could get my hands on, and smuggled a few carrots into my pack.

Aron’s eyes widened when I led Scout outside. The mare neighed softly. “That is quite a horse.” Stepping forward, he reached out a hand for Scout to sniff. When he was accepted, Aron ran his hands over the horse, patting him a few times on the neck. “He’s beautiful.” Scout bent his neck, searching for the hand that held the apple. Laughing, Aron cut a piece and held it out to him. “And hungry. Are you going to be joining us today, pretty boy?”

Sticking my foot in the stirrup, I grabbed the saddle horn and swung myself up on the horse. Next to me, Aron did the same. “Wouldn’t leave home without him.”

“Unless you get arrested.”

“There is that.”