Page 150 of Sword & Sacrifice

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, pouring energy into her shield. The roses pulsed with power to the same rhythm as her heartbeat.

Break the lock, she ordered.

Her shield strained, struggling to follow her command.

She poured more energy into it, more of herself. Her next inhale felt thinner than the last, as if she wasn’t getting enough air.

Break the lock.

The brambles in the lock throbbed as they swelled against the metal.

Emmaline’s head throbbed in turn. Her arms felt numb at her sides.

Break. The. LOCK!

The lock snapped. The sudden release of pressure made Emmaline lightheaded. She collapsed onto her back, staring at the stone ceiling as she struggled to catch her breath. Once her breathing steadied, she pushed herself up onto her elbows.

The cell door stood open an inch.

Grinning, she jumped to her feet and grabbed both her bag and her mother’s from the constable’s desk. Before she left, she doubled back for her forgotten dinner, gulping down a few mouthfuls of chilled soup and stuffing the bread roll in her mouth.

There were no guards around the jail. With the moon high in the sky, everyone—including the constable—had turned in for the night. She crept back to the inn and almost cried in relief when she saw Sugar back in the stall.

Emmaline did cry when she realized she would have to leave Spice. Dragging a second horse behind her would slow her down. Hopefully, the innkeeper would take good care of her.

With Sugar saddled and tears drying on her cheeks, Emmaline made her escape.

Her hope rose with the sun as she headed straight for Litus.

Chapter Four

Emmaline had never traveled alone. The excursion to Veritim Palace with Archer and the others was her first time outside of Arnsveld, her first time traveling without her mother, and the longest she’d spent away from home. It had been an exciting new adventure. She’d wanted to see all the sights, taste all the different foods, and make new friends.

Traveling on her own held none of that excitement. She kept looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her—villain or lawman alike. Her tension leaked into Sugar, whose ears lay flat on the back of her head and nostril’s flared wide in distressed snorts.

In the late morning, three riders passed her on the road. She ducked her head and turned to the side to obscure her face. They were coming from the wrong direction to know about her escape, but if they passed through Sparrow Hill, someone might ask after her, and she didn’t want to be recognized.

One of the riders slowed as they passed her, murmured, “Good morning, miss,” then sped back up when their companions ordered them to hurry.

She only relaxed and raised her head again when the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance.

The route was unfamiliar to Emmaline, it didn’t include any of the roads she’d ridden with Archer and the others. They’d been farther south, and she was north enough to be nearing the coast. She only guessed form the sun’s position that she was going in the right direction. At least if she got really lost, she could find the coast and follow it until she reached Litus. Since the capital of Bellacosta was a port city, it might have been faster to travel by ship, but she didn’t know how much passage would cost and doubted she had enough.

Early evening brought her to a small town with a general store. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the jail. Between her bag and her mother’s, she only had a few days’ rations for her journey.

She tied Sugar to a post outside and hurried into the store. The front counter was empty and there were no other customers in the store. The hot scent of freshly baked bread and meat drifted slowly from a room behind the counter. Emmaline leaned on the counter and inhaled deeply, her mouth-watering. “Hello?”

“One moment!” a man called from the back.

A few minutes later, he carried out a tray loaded with meat pies, some of them wrapped in wax-paper, the others left to cool in the open air.

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise as he noticed Emmaline. “Thought you were a regular coming for dinner.”

“I’m simply passing through,” she replied, her eyes locked on the pies, stomach rumbling in anticipation. “How much for a pie?”

“Two for a gold piece.”

She pulled her money pouch from her bag, sifting through it. She had no banknotes, since they didn’t use them in Arnsveld, and about fifteen coins. The meat pies would fill her stomach for a few meals, but she needed provisions that could last her a week.