Windswept (The Airborne Saga) (29 page)

Avery caught her breath after a few minutes and only when her hands stopped shaking did she address the situation.

“Not your contacts I take it?” Avery asked.

She couldn’t see Adalyn
, but could feel her a few feet away.

“No but they want to hide us. Did you hear what they called us? Their hope. They were waiting for someone to come.”

Avery didn’t voice her immediate thoughts after that. How were they hope when they were hiding out, virtually trapped as much as everyone else? They’d killed a rebel soldier. Harpies surely knew they were on the island now and would be looking for them specifically.

They continued their wait without another word to each other. The cellar was at least warm even if it
smelled of dew and wheat. The ground made an acceptable bed at the current time and Avery lay down, finding it easier to stretch out in the small space. She didn’t even realize she’d dozed off until she awoke to a pain in her chest. Hand clasping the needle sensation, she sat up. That’s when she heard the whispering from the room above them.

“Adalyn?” Avery finally called out. The
harpie was still awake and answered immediately.

“It’s on the news,
” she said without missing a beat. “They’ve caught Eva.”

The sensation of pain disappeared behind a wave of odd sorrow. Eva h
ad never been a real friend, and most times a real foe. But it was a dark feeling to know that Eva likely wouldn’t escape death twice.

Twenty Two

              By the time their hosts opened the cellar door, Adalyn was about ready to launch at them. Avery didn’t bother holding the harpie back—she herself had grown antsy and uncomfortable as the hours ticked by. The best she could guess, it was in the early dawn hours of the following day, but there weren’t any windows downstairs to reveal that status of sunlight.

             
“What are we waiting for?” Adalyn hissed but left enough room for the woman to lower herself down.

             
Dim light fluttered in from upstairs, but no lamps were on in the building. The woman lit a candle once she re-hatched the cellar door above them and illuminated the place. She held a basket full of food in one arm and the only source of light in the other.

             
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, for the first time revealing her age in the weakness of her voice. “We can’t be too careful.”

             
Avery stood to take the basket from the old harpie and intervened before Adalyn could assault her with more questions.

             
“You’re Leon’s family?” Avery asked.

             
“No. But we are good friends of those who are. We are glad you came.” The woman said. She waved Avery to dig through the basket and Avery plucked off the napkin on top. An assortment of bread and nuts awaited—no king’s meal but Avery’s stomach churned at the sight none the less. She set it down and grabbed a few pieces finding it surprisingly rich in taste. It had pumpkin and spice baked into it. Adalyn ignored the offering.

             
“Super lady, but I was supposed to be meeting contacts. I need to know what happened to them. I need to know if they were caught or if they…” Adalyn let her voice drop off.

             
Avery realized for the first time that Adalyn was concerned they were already ratted out. There weren’t that many people on the island. All they needed was for the rebels to tear up the houses—or the houses close to the spot they were supposed to meet the contact. It’d be quicker and easier than ever before.

             
“I am not sure. Leon dropped this off this morning though.” The woman held out a blue communication amulet.

             
Adalyn must have known who it would contact because she snatched it up in a moment and rushed off to the corner, huddling behind the dusty bins of wheat. Avery kept her eyes on the host.

             
“Thank you for keeping us.” Avery started with. “Have you heard anything of Mason?”

             
The woman immediately shook her head. The shadows of the candle were playing upon her face and any deeper expression was unclear.

             
“I suspect if he is here, he or those who keep him will reach out. Word will spread among the loyalists. But it increases our chances of being caught. We’ll need to move you.”

             
Avery thought about it for a few minutes. They’d be moving nonstop. This wasn’t exactly the way the rescue mission had been planned. The woman seemed to read her mind. After wobbling over to a wooden crate and plopping down onto it like a chair, she explained.

             
“It’s been a long time since our Prince had been attacked. There has been little action until now but your presence will stir things up. Citizens need a reason to fight, direction. They needed a chance that they could win. Hope. They needed you.”

             
“Direction? I wouldn’t think the harpies would follow me anywhere after what happened a week ago.” She’d been publically shamed on television. Hell, half that story made it sound like she was a monster herself.

             
“Your story is that of legend. You seem immortal—surviving things no human should. You hold a magic that no one understands and everyone fears. You will have people follow you as they’ve followed our Prince. Don’t you see that?”

             
She opened her mouth to protest but found no words. Maybe they were right. Adalyn had joined her on this possible suicide mission. She’d been able to convince Eva as well. Rafael sprung in right behind them and now their hosts acted in defiance to the rebels that overwhelmed their island. Avery couldn’t assign a feeling to this. But when her mind threatened to go, she shut her eyes and forced herself to focus.

             
“What happened to the council during all of this?”

             
The old harpie shrugged like she didn’t even care if their heads had been on pikes.

             
“They’re all in the capital building still. The rebels haven’t killed them yet. Still looking for our Prince. Once they kill Prince Mason, we shall hear the rebel demands. Perhaps then they’ll kill the council or offer to release them. But as long as Mason’s alive, no one will truly be under the rebel command.”

             
Adalyn chose that moment to march back up to the group. The ruminants of the amulet shards were squeezed in her hands summoning rivulets of blood. She seemed completely unfazed by it.

             
“Call your Guard. I don’t care how. We need to leave now.”

             
“Were we ratted out?” Avery shot back to her feet. Adalyn made a face.

             
“It doesn’t matter. The rebels are flipping every house systematically. And they’re on their way here.”

             
“So you’re just going to run outside?” The old woman protested.

             
“Lady, your entire family saw us run in here. You think they’re really going to stand up to the rebels questioning? Or torture? I’d send them away, and we’re getting the hell out.” Adalyn snatched up Avery’s elbow and went for the hatch. The woman face couldn’t have gone more ashen. That, apparently, was all the permission Adalyn needed to shove by her and open the cellar door.

             
Avery stuffed the last bit of food she could in her pockets—no telling when they’d actually be eating next, and followed in suit. Adalyn proceeded with more caution once she crawled outside. The soft whispers of children’s voices sounded, but the host shushed them with a harsh word. Avery had more difficulty pulling herself up—it felt more with each hour that her chest itself weighed a ton. Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen filling her lungs. The exertion itself made her dizzy and finding herself on her hands and knees, Avery begged her body to work.

             
“Do you smell that?” The male host who had been in the corner asked of his wife. The entire place did reek of something familiar and nauseously potent. It came from the slits in the windows, as did the voices of the rebels.

             
Adalyn’s hand snatched Avery this time and dragged her to the back door, farthest from the apparent voices.

             
“Wait, what exactly was Plan B?” Avery hissed when Adalyn opened the door a crack.

             
“Friend. Middle of the town. Closer to the capital.”

             
Avery wasn’t entirely sure she could be content with Adalyn’s friends at this point but obediently followed her outside. A few moments in the open air, Avery finally identified the smell. Kerosene. It was so much clearer now that it had the bitterness of smoke joining it. Avery gagged, head pivoting to find the source of the scent.

             
When they weaved around the next wall they could see it clearly. The houses were on fire. Rebels stood outside the blaze with harpoons raised.

             
“Don’t.” Adalyn’s hand hit Avery’s chest and kept her still.

             
The horror must have manifested on Avery’s face just as it played out in front of them. There was shrill screaming, people running out of the fire. A woman plunged into the dirt covered in soot. Her body contorted in clear agony, and the screaming was deafening. A rebel tore her to her feet and only then did Avery recognize the face. Evelyn.

             
“Move now,” Adalyn whispered, but the words were lost on Avery.

             
They were rattling her former makeup artist senseless. Her open lesions were already open bleeding profusely and the screeching got worse.

             
Adalyn tugged Avery. This time they both moved swiftly, feet driven by a new wave of adrenaline. Their tactic had been poor. Rebels lined both sides of the road and there was little cover. The closer they got to the center of the city, the clearer the destruction became. Dozens of houses had been burned to the ground. Nothing but ash and rubble remaining, it was hard to tell what they ever were.

             
“We’re staying out here?” Avery hissed. They tucked into a corner. Rebels patrolled this area too.

             
Adalyn couldn’t answer, obviously fearful of making noise, but her face showed some new doubt. Luckily they didn’t walk farther. Adalyn didn’t knock or wait for an answer. She pushed open an unlocked door and slipped inside.