Escape to the Sea (Tangled Hearts #1)

Chapter 27 End of the Line

Tomlyn

You know, I should have seen this coming.

My jailor gives me the once over every time he moves past my cell. I’m beginning to think he likes me.

“Hey again, Earl—long time no see. What’s it been, five minutes? Ten?” I get up off the cot and walk towards the doors of the cell. “I mean, I can’t show you the goods for free. If you want me to take my top off and strut for you, you’re going to have to sweeten the pot.”

Earl flushes red and cuffs me on the ear through the bar. I laugh and saunter backwards.

“I see, I see, hard to get. Don’t worry Earl, I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not for long,” Earl mutters and stalks off again down the hallway, his eyes fixed forward this time.

My cheer doesn’t last. He’s right, of course.

It’s only been a tenday or so in here, but it’s felt like a month. I’ve been thrown in the Snap a few times back in Yaventown, but never for longer than a day. When I was still on Fayne’s payroll, she would bust me out and have a slice of strawberry pie for me as she burned my ears off about actually being dumb enough to get caught.

One time, the fighting pits got rolled by some upstart new deputy that hadn’t got bought by Benny yet. I actually got a handwritten apology afterwards, even though I’m not anywhere near Benny’s Boys. Benny must have really put the fear of his creepy ass crow-god into him.

But this is not the Snap, where you can promise a sack of gold to whichever tin-badge is holding the keys.

In Vinitore, the uniforms are nicely polished, the jail cell bars aren’t even a little loose or uneven, and I don’t even think Sylf could threaten enough people to get me out of here.

I know what’s waiting for me on the other side of this indefinite sentence.

If I’m lucky, it’ll be a noose. If I’m unlucky? Who knows what these bored nobles will think is a justifiable death.

So, I do what I’ve been doing every other day this week. Do something to move my bones and stop dwelling on time passing. Piss off Earl or Mary, whichever one is on duty that day. Dominic I can at least get a laugh out of. Eat what was arguably a better meal than I could get in The Leaky Pot.

I’m in the middle of my push-ups when four big bruiser-looking soldiers come to my cell. I suppose Ephraim told them not to take any chances.

Then one of the soldiers pulls out a black bundle of fabric. Well… I suppose all the sand has fallen out of my hourglass.

“So, can I write a letter first? I asked for paper like, three days ago.”

“Sorry, fresh out,” one of them says and opens the doors.

I think about my odds. They’re not that great, honestly. I might be able to take out all of these guards, make a break for it. But Ephraim knows my name, my face, my friends. I couldn’t keep my fat mouth shut around him. If they really decided on death for me, then, well, it will come eventually.

If I leave the city, could I try and get to a non-Aurelian city, one of the elven enclaves? Probably to the Karstian exiles up north. But no matter where I went, I’d be starting all over without Sylf.

I take a deep breath and nod. Periti, protect Sylf. And… protect Aurelia from Sylf.

“All right. Hopefully you’ve washed that thing recently.”

The hood is scratchy, uncomfortable, and completely opaque.

They drag me out of the fancy prison and throw me into the back of an uncomfortable cart. Time passes pretty slowly. Now that I can’t see or move, the dread is much, much worse.

I can’t even think of anything cute to say here…

I’ve thought about this moment for a long time. About dying.

In the caves, death was a constant companion. We sent a lot of failed chargers to the dust, sometimes through no fault of their own. There were a few times where I got caught in the pincers of a deadly spider wanting to make me lunch. But I pushed through it and got back to the outpost. I didn’t think about how close I came to it—none of us wanted to.

Death was less of a companion in the Trunk, but it was never gone. The fact that I’ve died once already makes the argument more urgent. I definitely try not to think about that. Most of it is still a haze, to be honest. I recall a softness, a sob, and peridot green eyes… But the pain…Sometimes I still have trouble breathing, or get sharp spasms of pain in my sides, my chest, where my body was charred to hell.

And now, death is here. Again.

The dust comes for us all.

By the time I’m pulled out of the carriage, I’ve lost track of sense and time. It could have been an hour or a day, I don’t know. But I can tell that we’re further out to the coast. The humidity is higher, but the air is odd, like the wharf in Yaventown. Saltwater, then? The ocean? Are they going to hang me out over the waves? Well... I can think of worse ways to go.

I find my voice, muffled through the hood. “Burn me when I’m gone, okay? Don’t leave me to the birds to eat.”

The guard’s silence is crushing to my ears, my soul. Even my father would have allowed a prisoner more respect. A chance to pray, paper to write goodbye. Karst is shit, but fuck me, we have standards.

My feet make a mess of the cobbles, and then it turns to smooth stone.

And then I smell… lemons?

I’m tossed down onto a chair.

A chair? Perhaps it’s a busy day at the chopping block. This is how the higher-class criminals live. Or, well, die.

“Good gods! Was that truly necessary? Unmask him now!”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The hood flies off my head and my cuffs come off quickly after. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust. Finally my sight returns and the first thing in my field of view is… Afternoon tea.

What?

I look around to take stock of my surroundings. I’m under some sort of pavilion in some picturesque gardens in the noonday sun. Behind me is an honest-to-goodness castle made of warm carved stone. Ahead of me is… Ephraim.

This cheeky shit.

He’s sitting and looking well at ease, in a breezy linen shirt and a plum waistcoat, with the sigil of his house on his left breast. The ocean breeze is gently pushing a stray golden curl to the side, making him look so damn beautiful. The perfect, handsome prince.

“I hope they weren’t too hard on you,” He says. “I’m sorry for how long it took, but I really needed a shower, and a long nap.”

“I was in there for ten days , Ephraim.”

He gives me a wide, teasing smile that makes my heart flutter. “It was a really good nap.”

I can’t help but laugh.

His wide, beaming grin is utterly infectious. I slump back into my chair, already at ease. “I was in there thinking about death, you know. You made me get all navel-gazing and melancholy. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Oh, Tommy, please, it couldn’t have been all that bad.”

“Believe it or not, E, I’m a pretty good criminal. Pretty good criminals don’t get caught .”

“Yes, well, I bet you were at least glad not to be in an outside cell in the cliffside.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “Fair point well made.”

Ephraim stretches his hands out to show the spread around. “I remember you talking about your desserts, so I set out a spread for you. I think the little peach turnovers are very good. Do you prefer green tea or black?”

“Uh, black.”

Ephraim gestures to one of the two very decorative teapots.

I stare at it and then back up at him. “Sorry, I need to let my brain catch up with me. You… uh… you talk.”

“Oh, right!” Ephraim says, and takes a deep breath as I fix myself a plate of real food, thank the gods. “So, I had to do quite a fair amount of research into the legal precedent of getting a prisoner pardoned after they knowingly kidnapped an Aurelian noble. Believe it or not, not a lot of them, er, survive. So, after I had my very enjoyable nap—in a bed, no less—I did what I could. I couldn’t get you acquitted, per se. But I may have a better offer for you than the hangman’s noose.”

“Well, since I’ve spent the last ten days contemplating death with literally nothing else on my schedule, I think I have a bunch of free time, cutie.”

Ephraim looks at me, his eyes twinkling in amusement. He stirs a few sugar cubes into his tea. “Well, you are right. You were a pretty good criminal. Your record in Yaventown is surprisingly clean. So instead of doing any significant time, I persuaded the rest of my branch to allow you another way to serve. A year and a half of community service under direct supervision by the Aurelian Empire.”

“Fifteen months of breaking rocks doesn’t seem super appetizing, but it’s better than death.”

“Well, if you do that, your record will be once again squeaky clean.”

I give a shrug. “What’s a clean record matter to a criminal?”

“Maybe you don’t have to be a criminal forever,” he says, and leans back. “Tommy, I don’t understand you. You fight like a soldier. You’re so clever. This can’t be all you want to do.”

The peach turnovers are good—there’s some sort of pepper or spice within it as well that cuts the overpowering sweetness of the peaches. “Maybe… but for now it looks like breaking rocks will be all there is.”

“Well, no.” Ephraim smiles. “Maybe some rocks, if we end up expanding the white garden, but other than that, I think most of your day will be much less… menial. Tommy, I want you to stay here. You can do your community service here, at my estate.”

“Wait, you… you want to see me again. You want me to be here ?”

“I had a lot of time to think. Again, a very good nap. You were in a bad spot. You did the best you could with your situation. You saved the lives of my footmen. You tried as hard as you could to keep this whole endeavor bloodless.” He fidgets with his teacup for a moment. “I think it’d be best for you, to be out of the city. It seems that those people from the cabin, those Dozen, know you and know you were against them. Maybe this is for the best for now.”

I take another bite and chew thoughtfully. “So I stay in the castle, do what needs doing, and I’m off scot free by next Coldshift?”

“That is the idea, yes,” Ephraim says. “So, what do you say?”

Oh, Sylf is going to murder me when she finds out I’ll be gone for over a year. But, she’s also pragmatic. I don’t have much of a choice, do I? “I’m in, cutie. Where do I sign?”

Ephraim beams, brighter than the sun. “Wonderful! I was hoping you’d agree. Let’s finish tea first and we’ll get you settled.” He gives a withering look to the guards behind me. “And no more black hoods. Honestly, it’s barbaric.”

He holds out his hand to me. I take it and give a firm shake. I absolutely do not think about how warm his hand is, how good his hands felt running over my chest, my body.

“By the way, what is your name?” He asks.

“Uh, Tomlyn. Tomlyn Baker.”

Ephraim stares. “You… you told me your actual name? Tommy Baker? Tomlyn Baker?”

I grin and give him a wink. He laughs again and any remaining tension eases in my chest.

This is the best possible outcome, one I never even thought was possible. Sylf will miss me, but I’m sure she’d rather I be alive.