Poisoned Lips

21: Freyja, the fugitive

Freyja walked with her head in her shoulders.

The Royal Guards were gone. Felix was gone. Did she escape him, or did he let her go?

The question turned in her head non-stop as she trekked to the port. The streets bustled with life, children running around, dogs chasing cats, men smoking with peers, women chasing after kids. The air was fresh, cool. Nothing compared to the heavy fog the village had an hour ago. 

Freyja blended into the crowd as a simple girl with a stolen cloak covering her head and a scarf swallowing the bottom of her face. She slipped in between the mass, avoiding eye contact of any sort. She didn’t want attention, especially because her pictures were on the walls.

Freyja, the fugitive.

She held her bag tighter to her chest, expecting Felix to jump out any second. She heard the woosh of a cape. She looked over her shoulder. No one suspicious.

She quickened her pace. 

The smell of saltwater entered her nose as she neared the port. From afar, the iron rails of the bridge glistened in the sun. Her heart thumped faster in anticipation. Did she make it in time? She willed herself not to run. Be discreet.

Freyja could hear the shouts of fishermen. Their boats and canoes lined the shore.  

As she got closer, she realized that the bridge was empty. She stopped walking, and her shoulders sagged. She missed the ship. She needed to take the next one which would be tomorrow.

She walked to the bridge, leaning on the rails and gazing at the blue water. She pushed down her mask and inhaled the fresh smell of the sea. The wind pushed her curls from her face, leaving a cool feeling on her skin. She saw tiny fishes wiggle. The fishermen dragged their nets out of their boats. Some were filled with fishes some weren’t. 

She shouldn’t stay exposed like this. 

She dragged up her scarf and hid her curls in her cloak. As she walked down the bridge, her head began working, thinking through her next plan.

It was out of the option to stay in any village. She would be too close to Felix and his Guards. He could capture her or kill her. For the most part, she wanted to avoid meeting him. 

She couldn't return to the Sanctuary because, firstly, she didn't know where it disappeared to. Secondly, her ego wouldn't let her. 

So, her options were to:

Either hide in somewhere not frequented and sneak onto the next ship. She could stay in a forest. However, there was no forest nearby.

Or she could swim to Afoya which was well... impossible.

Freyja consulted her map and decided to head north, away from the population. 

"Your wife must be angry!" One fisherman exclaimed.

Freyja rolled her eyes. Couldn't they talk less loud?

"She is always angry. I left Afoya yesterday! She has no right."

"Your daughter is getting married, mate."

"That's the reason I'm returning and missing a week's pay." The other one snapped. He shoved his fishing net into his canoe and cursed.

Freyja was ecstatic.

"Sir?" She called quietly. She hugged her bag tighter to her chest, appearing as a lost girl.

"What?"

"Would you by any chance be going to Aføya?"

He eyed her, suspicious of her scarf.