Poisoned Lips

31: Therapy

yk the usual atp lol

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She'd been honest with Devland and Azalea about her life. She even told them about her mother. Freyja felt betrayed. There was no one in this godforsaken kingdom that was who they claimed to be. No one is as they seem. Not even her friends.

Yes, it was true that she couldn't admit to them that Felix let her escape from him because it would seem like they were partners—ironically, they currently were. But Freyja didn't feel like it impacted their journey whatsoever. Felix was helping her translate the clues, and she was getting a step closer to the cure each time.

But now that the cousins have ties to the Royals and Rebels, could it be that they want the cure for something other than themselves? Could it be that they planned on giving the cure to Magis? Could the cure even work on non-cursed Magis? Or could it be that Devland planned to cure himself to overthrow king Osiah with the help of the Rebels?

Could their goals jeopardize her journey?

A chill ran down her spine.

She didn't want any sort of involvement with the Rebels or the Royals. All she wanted to do was get the cure, and be normal. She'd live a normal life and do normal things. Maybe then, she'd finally be happy.

Freyja groaned. Why did things have to get so complicated?

Freyja penetrated the heart of the village. Women shouted around, giving orders to the soldiers. "No! Hang the lantern over there!" "Faster!" "Idiot, not there!"

Freyja looked around. They seemed to be decorating for an event. Children picked up litter from the floor, groups of teenagers huddled around, soldiers ran around, and women gave orders. It was like everyone had switched roles.

She lifted her chin a bit higher and walked around the people. No one minded her, everyone was busy with their task. As she got further away, she saw a line of soldiers holding different instruments: drums, violin, ukulele, tambourine...and she was headed their way. She glided into an alleyway and hid behind a pile of dirt till they all passed by.

She got out.

Her body was itching to do something. Something to relieve her pent-up anger. When she heard loud laughter and jeering, she knew exactly where she needed to be.

***

Freyja swung open the wooden bar door. Immediately, the smell of alcohol and vomit drifted up her nose. Men were hunched over their pints of beer, teenage girls on their laps. Some tables were jeering, telling jokes, while others were silent, empty looks in their eyes. Freyja scanned the crowd for guards or men with weapons.

Once she was sure of her safety, she removed her cloak but left her scarf on. She walked towards the counter. Freyja sat on the wooden stool beside two other women who seemed to be in their thirties. They were huddled together, talking in a hushed tone and glancing every second at the entrance.

"Hello young lady," the waiter greeted with a dashing smile. "I must admit it is rather unusual to find someone like you here."

"I'd like a beer, please."

He bowed. His hair was blue, Freyja noticed. She liked it. Moments later he returned with her order.

"Here you go!"

"Thank you."

"...have we met somewhere?"

"No."

"Are you sure? You look very familiar."