Chapter 96: Threads never break
The truth was the hunger. Since accepting the offer, nothing had been the same. She hasn’t been the same since the ritual in the forest, since the foreign presence had settled inside her bones. At first, the thirst came slowly, as a whisper. A pull. A dull ache.
She had resisted, fought it with everything she had. But after Strega, after she had felt a living essence flood into her, banishing her fatigue, sharpening her sense, filling her with vitality, the whisper had become a constant thirst. A gnawing want.
The need for blood, for life itself, had begun to feel natural. She woke up thinking about it. She watched people in the street and wondered what their lives would taste like. Each time she fed, she felt stronger. Sharper. More alive. It was a beast on a fraying leash.
And every time, it became harder to stop. She hated that part of herself. She was starting to regret her decision. The power was not a gift; it was a parasite. And before it consumed her completely, she needed her mother. Her mother would know what to do. Her mother would still see her as a child, not just as the vessel.
"The spirit and its power are not to be feared but understood. The Dark Lord can guide you. He can show you how to wield it, not to be wielded by it. Come with the messengers to Drakwyne."
"Before anything else, I need my mother with me." Rowena stood up again. This time her movement was final. She pulled her hood over her head, shadowing her face. "Tell the Dark Lord I am not leaving Lycanthria to Drakwyne without my mother."
She turned and left the room. The two messengers rose from their seats, but Hiram lifted a hand, stopping them.
"He needs her alive," Hiram said. "Let’s go with plan B."
Rowena did not look back. She walked down the corridor, down the bar, and out the front door of the inn into the night.
Outside, the night was pitch black. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds, and only a few lanterns lit the streets. A few people still moved about, shapes wrapped in cloaks, heads down, hurried home or towards the dubious warmth of the tavern.
Rowena moved without hesitation, heading away from the path towards the marketplace. During the day, it was a riot of noise and color. Now it was a skeleton of closed stalls and empty spaces. She found the one she was looking for: A Mercery. Bolts of cloth hung in the doorway, swaying gently.
She knocked twice, paused, then knocked once more. The door opened a crack. A man with a pockmarked face and greasy hair looked out. He whistled low under his breath at the sight of her, a lewd, appreciative sound.
"I was told your crimson thread never breaks," Rowena whispered.
He opened the door wider and beckoned her in with a jerk of his head.
The room was small, filled with linens, silks, and textiles. It smelled of dust and dye.
The man didn’t speak. He walked to a large freestanding shelf unit piled with fabric, grabbed its side, and swung it outward. It was a door, hinged and cleverly disguised. A wave of noise, smoke, and heat rolled out.
He gestured her through. The gambling den was a large, low-ceilinged basement room. It was hot and thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and unwashed bodies. Lanterns hung from rough beams, casting a smoky light over three large tables where games of dice and cards were in progress. Men of all sorts crowded around them, cheering or groaning. Coins clicked. In a corner, a small scarred bar served cheap, bitter ale.
The man from the front led her to the bar. "Drink for the lady?" He shouted over the din.
"No," Rowena said.
"Well, well, what’s bringing a beauty like you out this late?" He asked, his eyes roaming over her.
Rowena ignored the comment. "I was told you could help me."
The man leaned closer. "Depends on what you need."
"I need a horse. Saddle and bridle. Ready to travel."
The man chuckled. It was an ugly sound. "A horse? Why does a pretty little thing like you need a horse at this hour? Running away with a lover? Or to meet a sweetheart? Or looking for one?" He winked. "I’ve got a bed upstairs if you are in for a different kind of ride." He leaned in, his breath sour.
Rowena did not step back. She leaned in closer instead until her face was only inches from his. Her voice was a cold, clear cut through the noise. "I need a horse because I don’t walk to places that matter. And I don’t share beds with men who talk too much. I tend to cut off tongues and feed them to their owners. Do we understand each other?"
The men at the nearest table burst into laughter. One of them slapped his knee. "She’s a tough one, Ragna! Got your measure!"
The man, Ragna, raised his hands. He was not used to being challenged, especially not by a woman. The laughter stung his pride. "Alright, tough one." He glared at Rowena, but she just stared back with her eyes unblinking in the shadow of her hood. "It would cost you five silver pounds." He spat.
Rowena didn’t argue. She pulled a small, heavy pouch from inside her cloak and dropped it on the bar. It landed with a solid thunk. Ragna picked it up, scooped it, weighed it, and then grunted in satisfaction. He fished a key from his pocket and tossed it to a large man leaning against the wall.
"The bay mare in the back. Saddle her."
The big man nodded. He unlocked a door and disappeared into the back alley. Rowena turned to leave the way she had come.
"Hey," Ragna called after her. She paused but didn’t turn. "Roads are dangerous at night. Pretty thing like you shouldn’t ride alone."
She ignored him and pushed back through the hidden door into the stall, then out into the cold black marketplace.
As soon as she was gone, Ragna gestured. He whistled lowly with a mean expression on his face. four of his men came closer, crowding around the bar.
"She’s a pretty one," Ragna said, his voice low. "And she’s alone. Carrying more coin where that came from, I’d wager."
The men grinned. The big guy walked back in. Ragna signaled to him.
"Got an idea of where she headed?"
"We spoke. She asked for directions. She’s headed southeast."
"Got an idea of who she is?" Ragna asked.
"A runaway, perhaps. She wanted to know the lone path through the woods for the first few miles."
Ragna took a swig of ale. "Then we should have a little fun. Catch up with her. Take more coins and whatever else we want."
The four men agreed while the big man offered to stay at the stall. They laughed and cheered.
