only for a second. Because it took only that long for one thing to become indisputably clear in her mind.
She could not marry this elderly brute. Could not and would not.
Which left her only one recourse.
She had to run away.
And she had to do it now.
17
Lacey Alexander
Chapter Two
Stark fear nipped at Laela’s heels as she dashed up the beach, the fortress walls just barely visible behind her over the dunes. She took only a brief glance back as her bare feet slashed into the cool night sand, one after the other, propelling her forward. She could scarcely believe she was running away into the unknown, but after the ugly remarks she’d heard Ogran make, she felt safer leaving behind everything she knew than she would becoming his wife—and essentially, his property.
Thank goodness Donnell had let her pass—he’d been her only hope of leaving the fortress unnoticed, so it was lucky she’d known where he stood guard. He’d been hesitant, of course, worried for her safety, but she’d taken his hands, beseeched him with her eyes, and said, “I must leave, Donnell! I must! I cannot marry that terrible old wretch!” and finally he’d stepped aside, but not before lowering a kiss to her forehead and wishing her good luck.
Evening had fallen completely now and as she looked out to sea, only the whitecaps on the waves could be seen. Up ahead, to her left, torches beckoned—the village of Myrtell.
Of course, she’d never been to the town alone before—never in her whole life. Royal girls were too closely guarded. And she’d certainly never been there at night. What had always struck her as a quaint, friendly community by daylight suddenly appeared a bit more ominous under the cover of darkness.
Still, she saw no other option but to enter the village. If her absence had not yet been discovered at the fortress, it would be any moment now. And while Myrtell was probably the first place her father’s men would look, there would be more places to hide there than on the empty beach or the open ground surrounding the village. She wished she’d had time to form some better sort of plan than this one—but she simply hadn’t, so now she had to make it up as she went.
Nearing Myrtell, she veered up away from the beach, running toward the enclave of huts and small buildings. Despite the torchlight, she soon discovered that the town was mostly quiet—doors shut, shutters pulled and businesses closed for the evening. It made her fear that a good place to hide might be harder to come by than she’d imagined, and a fresh shot of dread swirled through her.
She continued running, running, up the twisting commonways, between the structures of thatch and wood and stone, until a bit of laughter caught her ear. She headed toward it and soon heard the sounds of more and more people. She knew instinctively she’d located her best chance of not being found.
Bursting from between two small huts, she came upon a brightly lit building, its walls constructed of thick planks of wood, its roof thatched, like most in the village.
18
Carnal Sacrifice
Above the open door hung a wooden sign with the word Tavern painted upon it, featuring a depiction of a goblet for those who didn’t read.
Talk and laughter and even the sound of some sort of instrument spilled from the door and windows of the larger-than-average structure, and Laela knew it was her only hope. Trepidation bit at her at the prospect of entering a room full of strange men imbibing ale—but when, in the distance, she heard the sound of hooves, her father’s horses, she sprinted toward the entrance and ducked inside.
She was stopped cold by the scene that met her eyes. Yes, the room was filled to bursting with men who held large goblets in their fists, but in the center of them all, on a long, wooden table, two women—bared to the waist—kissed each other passionately, clearly for the delight of the crowd! One leisurely caressed the
She could not marry this elderly brute. Could not and would not.
Which left her only one recourse.
She had to run away.
And she had to do it now.
17
Lacey Alexander
Chapter Two
Stark fear nipped at Laela’s heels as she dashed up the beach, the fortress walls just barely visible behind her over the dunes. She took only a brief glance back as her bare feet slashed into the cool night sand, one after the other, propelling her forward. She could scarcely believe she was running away into the unknown, but after the ugly remarks she’d heard Ogran make, she felt safer leaving behind everything she knew than she would becoming his wife—and essentially, his property.
Thank goodness Donnell had let her pass—he’d been her only hope of leaving the fortress unnoticed, so it was lucky she’d known where he stood guard. He’d been hesitant, of course, worried for her safety, but she’d taken his hands, beseeched him with her eyes, and said, “I must leave, Donnell! I must! I cannot marry that terrible old wretch!” and finally he’d stepped aside, but not before lowering a kiss to her forehead and wishing her good luck.
Evening had fallen completely now and as she looked out to sea, only the whitecaps on the waves could be seen. Up ahead, to her left, torches beckoned—the village of Myrtell.
Of course, she’d never been to the town alone before—never in her whole life. Royal girls were too closely guarded. And she’d certainly never been there at night. What had always struck her as a quaint, friendly community by daylight suddenly appeared a bit more ominous under the cover of darkness.
Still, she saw no other option but to enter the village. If her absence had not yet been discovered at the fortress, it would be any moment now. And while Myrtell was probably the first place her father’s men would look, there would be more places to hide there than on the empty beach or the open ground surrounding the village. She wished she’d had time to form some better sort of plan than this one—but she simply hadn’t, so now she had to make it up as she went.
Nearing Myrtell, she veered up away from the beach, running toward the enclave of huts and small buildings. Despite the torchlight, she soon discovered that the town was mostly quiet—doors shut, shutters pulled and businesses closed for the evening. It made her fear that a good place to hide might be harder to come by than she’d imagined, and a fresh shot of dread swirled through her.
She continued running, running, up the twisting commonways, between the structures of thatch and wood and stone, until a bit of laughter caught her ear. She headed toward it and soon heard the sounds of more and more people. She knew instinctively she’d located her best chance of not being found.
Bursting from between two small huts, she came upon a brightly lit building, its walls constructed of thick planks of wood, its roof thatched, like most in the village.
18
Carnal Sacrifice
Above the open door hung a wooden sign with the word Tavern painted upon it, featuring a depiction of a goblet for those who didn’t read.
Talk and laughter and even the sound of some sort of instrument spilled from the door and windows of the larger-than-average structure, and Laela knew it was her only hope. Trepidation bit at her at the prospect of entering a room full of strange men imbibing ale—but when, in the distance, she heard the sound of hooves, her father’s horses, she sprinted toward the entrance and ducked inside.
She was stopped cold by the scene that met her eyes. Yes, the room was filled to bursting with men who held large goblets in their fists, but in the center of them all, on a long, wooden table, two women—bared to the waist—kissed each other passionately, clearly for the delight of the crowd! One leisurely caressed the
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