Caught in the Fox’s Teeth

Chapter 9: Taryn

I feel as if I am shattering on the floor just as the glass rabbit had. f**k. I must get out of this place. I must leave tonight. I had wanted to prepare more supplies before my departure. So far, I’ve managed to scrounge up some dried fruits and hard cheeses for the road. There are some day-old loaves left in the kitchens that caught my eye earlier, I can snag them on my way out. I want food that requires no cooking so I can avoid making a fire until I am well away from any of the Vulpins and their peoples. My skills as a hunter are excellent but they do me no good if I can’t cook what I kill. I have to hope that what little provisions I’ve secured will be enough to tide me over until I’m in the next province or so deep in isolation that risks of being caught are unlikely.

Before I can leave, I need to plan where I will go. I have a hastily sketched map I copied from a larger scale one in the library. My version is rough but will serve as a decent enough guideline. I plot my route with careful consideration. My finger lands on a region to the south where the population is less dense, but the terrain is harsher. The Jeers lord over the neighboring province of Satalya. Their land is a vast desert that will require me to haul enough water for both me and my horse. It’s the shortest route to reach my homeland but I risk dehydration and exposure. It does not look as if I will be taking the fast-track home.

I could head westward then follow the Royan river south. Vast woodlands and prairies lie just southwest of the Koulimi mountains. There will be plenty of game to hunt but the potential for bandits and larger predators is always a risk. I would rather take my chances with bears and bandits than with dying of thirst in the southern heat. I will head west and find sanctuary with Lord Edmund. In the neighboring land of Trebya. While the wealthy Trebyan’s are companionable with the Vulpins, there is no love lost between them. It’s possible I can find safety there for a time until I can get word to my father. I have to assume that my father will want me back but that remains to be proven. The worst-case scenario would be that I return to Daodan only to be sent back to the Vulpins. I shiver at the thought. My father is an honorable man. It would not be like him to ignore my betrothal. It’s entirely possible my father will side with the Vulpins despite his love for me. Duty before love. It has always been a favorite motto of his. I will need to send word to him and gauge his response accordingly before I decide to go running directly into his arms. First I will need to lie low and Lord Edmund’s is the best place to do that for now.

I start to think about what it would be like if I just disappeared completely. To just fall off the edge of the world and live out my life in a small slice of the country. I grow so tired of being used as a pawn in the games men play. I wish to be the one moving the pieces rather than being manipulated by someone else or better yet remove my piece from the board entirely. I won’t willingly take part in such games. I will take charge of my destiny. I’m on the precipice of changing the wheels of fate but I must tread lightly as one path is surely worse than the other. It is decided. I will head west and seek asylum with Lord Edmund until I can secure other arrangements. From there I can explore other options. I just need to get away from this foul country and out of the fox’s reach.

Rushing to my feet, there is no time to spare. I place a set of warm clothes out on my dresser so I can pull them on quickly when it’s time to go. I throw on a plain charcoal colored woolen tunic. It is simple but warm. I can only pray that no red flags are raised at my less than perfect appearance when I’m inevitably called down to dinner. f**k the lord and his wishes. I will not clean myself up for the likes of him. I want to be able to ride in comfort and stay warm, the long tunic’s function outweighs the fashion. Spring may be here, but the nights are still damp and cold. The felted wool will help keep me warm and dry during the nights. I can’t afford to get sick out in the wilderness.

I throw more clothing into my hastily prepared bag. Underwear, stockings, leggings, and furs are crammed unceremoniously into an old potato sack I pilfered from the kitchen. No one would suspect any valuables being in there when I’m on the road. It’s brown, burlap material does not exactly cry of wealth and status. Along with my clothes, the cheese and fruit, I pour the contents of my jewelry box into the bag. In doing so, I catch a glint of light reflecting off my wedding rings that I still dutifully wear. I don’t know if I can part with them. It feels wrong. Pulling my engagement band and wedding ring from my finger, I run a piece of twine through them and tie the bands to my bra strap where I conceal the rings in my shirt, nestled tightly against my breast so that I can feel Bowen near my heart.

He was buried with his ring as is customary for my people. It was the only custom I was permitted. The Estrajians do not normally bury their dead with any finery. Wrapped in cloth, the bodies of loved ones are heaped into a hole unadorned and forgotten. It’s a travesty. They claim to bury gold with the dead is a sinful waste and they may be right, but I refused to let them pry the gold from my husband’s cold, dead hand. He will not go to his final resting place without the physical band of our love. My people believe it is the rings that bind our souls for gold is the god’s chosen metal and while I’m not a religious person, there is something beautiful about being eternally bound in spirit to those we are mated to. I touch the warm metal on my chest, already accustomed to its new resting place. When I get myself settled, I will wear it on my finger again but it’s too risky to have such finery visible on my person while traveling.

For my final preparations, I go over my items two more times just to see if I’ve forgotten anything when there is a rap at my door. f**k. I thought I would have more time before being summoned. The sound is too light to be from a man’s hands and Elzbith would not be caught dead doing servant’s work. It can only be one other person. “Miss?” …Aggy. “Are you asleep?” She asks. I throw my bag under the bed, straightening up my appearance to look less flushed. Tugging at my clothes, I brush away any wrinkles, take a deep breath, and answer the door. She is loyal to the lord of this house and right now that means her allegiances lies with Dryndenn. I do not trust that she won’t turn me in if she finds my packed bags or suspects my intentions to flee.

“Not sleeping Aggy. Just exhausted down to my heart and soul.” I school my expression to look hopeless. I am but a forlorn widow on the eve of another arranged marriage. Woe is me. Perhaps her pity will afford me some extra time.

“I’m sorry, dear. Dinner is ready. I’ve been sent to fetch you.”

“I’m not hungry.” I push the door gently, nearly closing it in Aggy’s face, hoping that this will be the end of the conversation. Maybe I will get lucky and Dryndenn will let me suffer in peace. I know I am f****d when her withered palm halts the movement of the rapidly closing door. “Excuse me, Aggy. I’d like to be alone now.” I keep my tone even despite feeling anxious of being caught. I don’t want to spook my maid, but Aggy doesn’t budge. Her eyes cast down while she wears an expression of remorse.

“Miss Taryn… I—I’m sorry. Our lord has specifically requested your attendance. I’m not to take no for an answer.” She fidgets. Old hands wring at her waist, her eyes never meeting mine.

“Oh?” I say, my tone shifting into something hateful. I feel the anger writhing just beneath the surface of my skin. “And what exactly will you do about it, Aggy? I’ve no desire to share a meal with that brute or his w***e. You can tell him as much.” Aggy’s face drops as if I had smacked her. Without another word, I gently shift her back a step and bolt the door closed before she has a moment to stop me. I hear her stutter followed by another light round of knocking. Pressed against the door I listen for her retreating steps but still she stands outside, waiting. After a few more attempts at knocking, I hear her sigh a curse. She mumbles something about the master not liking this one bit. It’s a good thing I don’t give two shits what the master cares for anymore. Shortly Dryndenn and Odin will be someone else’s problem.

There is a brief moment where my heart aches from shame at how I’ve treated the old woman these past few days. I will blame it on my grieving, but it is just a fault in my character. I can’t blame her for worrying about her own skin when I have done little to encourage her loyalty. I don’t deserve it. I don’t want or mean to treat anyone badly… it’s just I want to be left alone. I do not want the false pity or the meager comfort their apathetic touch brings. I don’t wish to hear insincere words or bullshit encouragements. I want none of it. The only words I want to hear belong to the only man I’ve ever loved but the death’s men sowed his lips shut before laying him to rest.

There is a small part of me buried deep inside my heart that wishes for the day when I am old and feeble. When I’ve outlived my use as a breeder and can be one of the old fools no one pays any mind to. I would gladly spend those golden years of my life spouting nonsense and rambling to myself if it meant I would no longer need to entertain unwanted men, in my bed or otherwise. I sigh. I know I will need to marry again. It is a woman’s curse after all. I’ll marry someone decent. Someone deserving of my affections. It will be someone of my choosing this time, but I already know I’ll not love again. I’m not made for it. The joys of love are endless, but the loss is too devastating. My heart cannot handle another loss. So, I’ll marry again as is expected and I’ll have their damned heirs and warm their beds for as long as I must or until my partner finds a younger version to occupy themselves with. I know I will not find myself behaving as Elzbith does. I will not mourn for the attentions of a persistent mate who has desire for another woman. If my partner should find solace with another, fine. I just pray they leave me out of the whole mess. I would rather spend my time hunting or reading. I would rather be doing anything else rather than serving someone else’s will for one more second. When I leave this pretty cage behind, I will soar. There will be no more bars for me beneath the blue skies. I will never find myself in such a trap again.