Page 47 of Lies of the Wicked
The driver examined Leora’s booklet, mentioned something about having a quill, then spun around and slammed the door shut.
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LECTURE NOTES FROM HERBOLOGY 101:
The strongest of Botanical magic can grow an herb from dirt, cultivating life itself. The mortal serfs and their green thumbs were never magicless. Take our Botanical Supreme for example, with the power of Earth Rendering.
Thessa awoke to the smell of salt air and fresh moss. She sprang upright, unsure when her head had landed against Soren’s shoulder. Her cheeks flooded with heat, but thankfully, he’d been fast asleep.
Thessa rubbed her eyes, coming to terms with the three possibilities that existed by now. Honorable Kellan had reported the keys stolen, the guard had been found locked in a cell, and messengers had been sent with warnings about rogue guards and prisoners escaping.
“You’re up,” noted the lone witch, Quinnley, while peeking out her window covering. “We’re at the border now.”
Thessa looked to see border guards directing them towards the river.
Quinnley was a freckled brunette who’d remained mute during their carriage ride south—they all had. Hours in, Leora had broken the silence. One question had been all it took to keep Quinnley talking until Thessa had fallen asleep. She’d been going on about her Botanical magic, her love of potions, the salves she’d been working on, and all the flowers she’d hoped to collect in the southern territory. There’d not been one question raised about their unseemly carriage entrance. There was only uninterrupted information about bee balm and sea lavender before Thessa had slapped her eyes shut.
When the driver halted the horses, he came around to open the carriage door and shouted, “Ten-minute rest.”
Leora lifted her head off Emiel’s shoulder as both males groaned awake. Quinnley squealed before jumping out.
Thessa left next, embracing the late afternoon sun with a smile. She scratched the horses’ chins on her way upstream, nestling her knees into the riverbed. She didn’t have to look up to see the cloudless sky, the water reflected that for her, as well as the fatigue under her eyes, and the way the sun made her onyx hair shine with violet streaks.
Cupping her hands beneath the surface, she drank, then scrubbed her face.
When her reflection eclipsed, she turned to see Soren settling on his knees beside her. He hadn’t greeted her—nor thanked her for untethering him—instead, he gargled and spit water.
She rolled her eyes and stood to leave when he spoke under his breath. “The outfit suits you well.”
She paused, wondering if that was some sort of compliment. They were about the same height as he knelt there.“Excuse me?”
He eyed her, clearing his throat and said, “It suits you.”
Thessa knitted her brows. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Since we’ve met, all you’ve done is give orders. You’re just likethem.”
“You don’t know a thing about me.”
He stood, towering over her.
Thessa didn’t cower, she lifted her chin. “Your reckless use of magic is exactly why we’re in this mess.”
Venom brewed in his obsidian eyes. “Reckless? Have you seen the burn marks on your neck?”
“Have you seen yours? We could’ve all been killed because of you.”
Soren lunged down, leaving an inch between their noses. “Me?”
Every second that passed without giving him an answer had another muscle in his jaw twitching. Thessa delighted in it for another moment before stomping back to the carriage.
While still within earshot, she glanced back to say, “You’re welcome, by the way.”
She made sure to sit beside Emiel and Leora for the last leg of the trip. They’d collected about a dozen apples for the ride and she helped herself to their stash.
Quinnley, seated across, was whistling while sorting through what looked like freshly picked hemlock flowers.
Soren made his way back into the carriage last, not bothering to look at anyone. The tension rolling off his cloak was thick enough to quiet them all, including Quinnley—his new bench mate.
