Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(19)

She tossed the bag into the carriage and lunged in behind it. Her fist slammed against the roof.

“Go!”

The whip cracked, an unnatural sound of creaking bone. Tears fell freely down her face as the carriage raced away from the brothel. Her sisters poured out of the house, their shouts echoing in her ears for miles down the road.

What had she done? Saying goodbye made her want to shatter into a thousand pieces. But a deal was a deal.

Sorcha had never been away from home. She’d only been alone once in her life, for three full days after her mother’s corpse had stopped smoking. Those were dark memories. Thoughts her mind had hidden so she wouldn’t dwell upon the past.

Now, she’d be alone for an undetermined amount of time. Would she handle it well? Her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest. Short breaths expanded her lungs and swirls of darkness blinked in front of her eyes.

She focused on the landscape flying past. They headed towards the sea, and she hadn’t been to the ports since she was a girl. Her father had specifically avoided setting up a brothel near sailors. He said they were too frequent customers who never paid their debts. It was easier in a city where rich men might find their way down a dark alley.

Rolling green hills calmed her mind. Stone walls bisected the fields, built to remind everyone where their land was. Each stone glistened with moss, worn with age, touched by hundreds of passersby. White dots of sheep speckled the land.

Every now and then, they would pass over a stone bridge. Streams ran underneath them, housing trolls and goblins for the night. Sorcha could almost feel them, hidden in their hovels under the ground.

These emerald lands had always called out to her. This wasn’t just a field, it wasn’t just grass and sheep, this was home.

She pressed her head against the side of the carriage. The jolting movement thumped her skull against the wood every now and then, but even that didn’t dull her torment. The land rooted her in the now, in the moment, in everything that wasn’t the loss of her family.

She would see them again, Sorcha told herself. Even if it took years to get back.

Lush fields gave way to small homes with cultivated gardens. Then cobblestone paths snaked through the towns which grew larger and larger as they reached the ocean. She could smell salt and brine upon the air.

The carriage slowed as it passed through throngs of people in ragged clothes. Women with scarves over their heads avoided meeting her gaze, and men in moth eaten wool leered at the carriage. Sailors who had seen better days wandered the docks, and farmers with dirt streaked cheeks peddled their wares. Children snuck their hands into pockets for even the smallest of coins.

The wheels clattered as they passed by another brothel. Sorcha didn’t recognize any of the women hanging out of the windows, but there was something in their haunted eyes that chilled her to the bone. These were not prostitutes looked after by a kind man. Run down, exhausted, and used, their bodies told the sad story of their lives.

Some part of her, equally chilled, wondered if that could be her future. Eventually her skills wouldn’t be necessary for the brothel, or they would find someone who would do the same things without the burden of room and board. Where would she go? There were no jobs for women, no husbands for a woman favored by the Fae.

She leaned back against the soft cushions of the carriage and refused to look back outside.

The ocean breeze snuck through her window, tangling in the loose strands of her hair. She could smell the fish, the seaweed, the salt of the ocean and the sweat of men. She could hear the crashing waves as if she had put a seashell to her ear, but this was the real thing. These waves were just outside. All she had to do was lean forward one more time. Haunted eyes stared back at her, even though her eyes were closed.

“I will not become them,” she whispered.

The carriage wheels squealed as they lurched to a halt. The dullahan pounded the roof of the carriage, silently demanding she leave.

Sorcha let out a long, steadying breath. “You can do this, Sorcha. You’ve done harder work before. All you have to do is step outside this carriage.”

She curled her hand around her pack. Her fist clenched hard until the leather straps dug into her palms. Courage was never an easy thing to find even when necessary for survival.

The door banged open, and the dullahan stared at her with dull eyes.

“Yes, I know,” she said. “Give me a moment, please.”

“It’s time for you to go.” His lips moved, but his voice came from his hands.

Sorcha shivered. The last thing she needed was a reminder that the man standing before her was actually headless, and that he was holding said head to speak with her.

“Where am I to go?”

“Find the ship with the yellow belly. It’s Fae marked, and will take you to Hy-brasil.”

“And when exactly is the isle visible?”

The dullahan narrowed his fake eyes. “You have six days.”

“Is that doable on a ship?”

“I’m no sailor, girl. Ask the captain.”

He held out his hand for her to take. Sorcha couldn’t force herself to touch him. The sparkle of malevolence in his gaze made her nervous, and she wondered if he would make her touch his head.

She leapt from the carriage on her own, shouldering the heavy weight of her pack with a sigh. “Thank you for the safe journey.”

“You thank me for following my masters’ orders?”