VINCENT

The afternoon sun bore down on us as I stood beside Monty, waiting for Olwen to arrive with a carriage. Even though I stood in the middle of a small yard beside a small pile of luggage for all to see, none gave me more than a fleeting glance and small nod. Had I known what simply cutting my hair and changing my clothing would do, I would have ventured out on my own sooner.

And I would have been easily caught.

The sound of hooves and wheels on cobblestone announced the arrival of the carriage. It was a well-used thing with chipped black paint, revealing some shade of green beneath it. The four horses pulling it drew to a stop, and Olwen dropped down from the driver's box.

"Let's get this done quick," she said as she moved past us and picked up one of the trunks.

"Where am I to hide?" I asked, looking over the carriage. It wasn't terribly small, being a proper travel coach, but I couldn't imagine being forced to contort myself to fit beneath a bench.

Monty took me by the elbow and led me up to the carriage. He patted the wood beside the driver's box. "They'll be expecting us to squirrel you away. Best to hide you in plain sight."

I looked from the seat to Monty, not hiding my doubt. Perhaps walking off on my own would have been the better option, after all. "That seems risky."

"No more than sticking you in a barrel," Olwen said as she tossed a large bag atop the carriage.

"Yeah, they'd check the barrel first," Monty said with a sharp nod. "They always do. Which is why we have a barrel." He proudly slapped the barrel beside him.

Olwen gave the barrel in question a critical stare. "Where'd you get that?"

"Jim said it was a bad batch and sold it to me cheap," Monty proudly proclaimed. "He was right, but it gets the job done. I have no hope of finishing it, and it's probably getting even worse, so not much of a loss if it gets confiscated."

"In other words, you want them to take it off your hands."

"They'll take the wine, but not Pretty Boy."

Did he really need to call me that? Especially since he apparently didn't feel the need to follow through. Disappointment flared up in my chest, settling in my stomach. The world outside my fantasies and confinement was turning out to be a rude awakening.

Even with a cushion, the seat atop the carriage was far from comfortable. I couldn't tell if Monty had been lying when he said the carriage had been recently reupholstered. The ride was made even more uncomfortable without magic to help absorb the unevenness of the road. How did people live like this?

I had to remind myself that this was the cost of escaping my father. I would be losing many luxuries I had taken for granted.

I held back a surprised grunt when Monty elbowed my side.

"We're in luck. There's only three today. Don't freeze up," he hissed as we drew close to the city gate.

There was no need for worry. My entire life revolved around not giving away my thoughts. Although, the initial instruction of "play along and don't be standoffish" left me with little idea as to how I was supposed to behave. My experience with improvisation was to downplay my knowledge and abilities.

An older guard waved and shouted at us. "Monty!"

"Marcus, who tricked you into gate duty?" Monty replied with a jovialness I had yet to witness. I could only imagine what it must be like to be on the receiving end. I found myself envious of the interaction.

"Smith and Grovings got roped into a search," the guard replied. "My bum knee's got me stuck here instead of door to door."

"Don't tell me another girl's gone missing," Olwen said, stepping out of the carriage.

Marcus shook his head. "Some rich kid. So of course they're pulling out all the stops," he said with restrained irritation.

He had yet to look at me. The other two guards were busy watching the passing traffic on the street behind us.

Olwen sighed and looked up at me. "You win. We won't make it to the wedding."

Did she expect me to reply? I didn't wish to give us away by faking an accent. I shrugged, and it seemed to be enough. Although, she did narrow her eyes at me before turning her attention back to Marcus.

"Thanks for the excuse," she said, her voice dryer than the Nourim desert.

"No, you lot are good to go," he replied with a laugh.

An unexpected​ slap to my back almost threw me from my seat. I was tempted to glare Monty's way but settled on staring at the ground. I didn't know what the two were playing at, but I couldn't risk giving the wrong reaction.

"Gonna get this one in a suit and engaged, after all," Monty said, slapping me once more.

Marcus laughed along then gestured to the carriage. "Still gotta search everything," he said. He whistled and waved over a younger guard. "You check under."

Monty shifted in his seat and pulled a large envelope out from beneath him. "Here's our papers." He tucked them back when he was waved off.

"You're good for it. Don't recognize your friend, though," he said before looking inside the carriage. 

Olwen answered as she leaned heavily against the carriage. "My cousin, Button. Heading back home for his sister's wedding."

Lady Below, please don't name my imaginary sister after some other piece of clothing. 

"Button?"

"Nickname, actually. 'Cuz he's as cute as a button," she happily replied. "Really hates it, too."

Some part of me must have given off a reaction. Both guards looked up at me and laughed. My cheeks felt warm. Normally, I could easily spell away any blushing, but the dampeners kept me from being able to do something that had become second nature. It was bad enough to be seen as weak in front of my father, but the attention of these complete strangers made it all the more embarrassing.

"Yeah, I can see that. Them family names follow you like a Crypt draft once they get out," Marcus said with a shake of his head.

It almost sounded like he felt sympathy for me.

He reached up and patted my foot. "Took years to escape 'Mooky'," he said with a wink. 

I stared down at him with wide eyes. I didn't think silence was an option when being directly addressed.

"Years?" I repeated. My nerves had caught up to me and strangled my voice. It was for the best. 

He nodded before pulling away, his attention called away by the other guard. They had found something.

"Oh, ho! What a nice barrel you got here, Monty."

"Only the nicest," Monty agreed. He grinned at me and raised his brows. 

Was he sharing a joke with me? 

"This wouldn't happen to be Jim's bad batch, would it?"

"It ain't that bad," Monty said defensively. 

"Uh-huh. I get it, you caught wind we were searching carts," Marcus said as he came round the carriage. "Hoping to unload it?"

Monty dropped his head and nodded. 

"I'll take it to the barracks. Surprised you managed to get through as much as you did. I heard it was terrible stuff."

"Why do you think I'm trying to get rid of it? Can't even reuse the barrel for anything other than rain or dirt. And only if you ain't drinking the rain."

Marcus winced as he watched the other guard roll the barrel away. "That bad?"

"Guess you'll find out."

The air around us seemed to relax once we reached the windmill. Yes, we were a fair distance from the city gates, but I didn't believe that would stop my Father's search.

I struggled to let myself down from the driver's box and followed Olwen inside as Monty took care of the horses.

The inside was fairly clean, showing signs of recent usage. A sign was posted by the door above a little lockbox, declaring it to be something of a small hostel. There were rules and a suggested fee for staying the night.

It was wonderfully quaint.

"How long—"

"Long enough for Tristan to make it out," she replied. "He has about three hours, then we move on." She wore a deep frown as she looked out the dusty window.

I could barely hear her over the slowly shifting gears of the mill. I wanted to have misheard her. Three hours seemed rather heartless. What if they mistook capture for a simple delay?

"You did good, Pretty Boy," Monty said as he entered the mill.

I didn't know what to say. I stood there, stunned. My chest tightened as I swallowed, fighting with everything I had not to show any emotion. I couldn't let them see just how much such a small bit of praise affected me. They already had my gratitude for saving my life. I didn't need them knowing what power they could hold over me.

"I did very little," I said, relieved that my voice remained steady. 

"Sometimes, that's all you need," Olwen said as she stepped away from the window.

Then why hadn't I been more successful with my life?

"Was half-expecting you to jump off and run at the first bend," Monty said.

"And go where? Aside from not knowing where I am, I have no means of survival," I replied. "You are something of a savior to me."

He was not impressed with my answer. "We ain't a free ride, Vinnie."

Somehow, he had misconstrued my compliment.