Songbird's Cage

Chapter 17

The marketplace was loud and chaotic. Lark walked behind Rory, who could easily shoulder his way through the countless people.

He led her to the end of the street where a man was selling fruit out of a cart. Reaching into the leather coin pouch, he handed the peddler a few thin, dark grey, coin-sized disks. They were imprinted with a small, foreign mark in the center that reminded her of the pendant beneath her shirt.

Her mind went to the way Silas had looked when he'd given it to her. There had been fear in his eyes, but also a strange longing, something like familiarity. His hands had been trembling when he'd pressed it into her palm.

"Lark."

She looked up at Rory as he handed her a piece of round fruit with a smooth, cream-colored skin.

"What is it?" she questioned.

"It's called arro," he said. "It's symbolic of the old gods here – which is why the arro orchards were burned in the first days of Esaria."

He bit into the fruit, catching a stray drop of juice on his lip. She followed the motion, surprised at the taste. The skin of the arro was sharply tart, but the red, fleshy inside was deliciously sweet, overflowing with juice.

Lark kept beside Rory as he walked down the street. The shouts of merchants rose into the day, in harmony with the haggling of those buying. Above it all hung mountainous white clouds, like the ceiling of a massive cathedral to the gods. They turned down a small path that trailed away from Ruid. Before long, they were surrounded by trees, wandering along a narrow road that sloped gently upwards.

"Where are we going?" she asked, falling into step beside him.

"There's something I want you to see."

The trail led to the top of a large hill, with a rocky cliff overlooking the town, a wide, breathtaking view of the town and the leagues of forest beyond. Rory sat on the ground, one leg tucked beneath him, the other dangling over the ledge. She knelt beside him.

She wished that he would kiss her.

The thought leapt unbidden into her mind, and she swiftly chased it away, not wanting it, not knowing where it came from or why. Embarrassed, she finished eating, tossing the hard pit of the fruit into the trees as Rory had done not long before. Rory didn't say anything, staring out at the buildings below. Not far from where they were, Lark could hear the rush of a waterfall, the life of the river that ran through Ruid. It was a beautiful sight, and she wondered why so many Esarians thought of the people of the Wilds as barbarians, with stories of those who consumed the flesh of their own kind, of nomads who lived more among beasts than humans. The settlement she was looking down on was no less of a town than any she had seen in Esaria.

"It's beautiful up here," she said. Rory was still quiet. Worried, she glanced over at him. He was absently fingering the hilt of the knife at his hip. She touched his shoulder and he met her gaze.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He shook his head, moving his attention back to Ruid below.

"I'm taking you back towards the border tomorrow," he said, closing his eyes as though he instantly regretted the words. She stared at him.

"What?"

Rory sighed. "You don't belong out here. It's not safe, and I can't protect you if someone recognizes who you are. You shouldn't have come out here. The people of the Wilds, the Sylvans, they're too dangerous, especially towards an Esarian princess."

"I came out here for you!"

"And you found me!" he said. "Lark, I've accepted my banishment. I have a new life out here. What do you expect me to do?"