Crucible Read Online Free Page B

said when they were alone, finishing up the last of her morning pies. “I truly wish that Bard could spend more time eating, and less time being a horse’s arse.”
    Bree smiled, comforted that at least one other person in the world condemned Ferrin’s actions.
    â€œAh, well,” Ystell said, “Sharlot pays me to make pies, not question her choice in lovers. Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”
    Bree nodded. She had a whole room of her own now, in fact. Nevermind that it was a basement under a cheesery, and it leaked sometimes, but it was hers, and being below ground meant no one heard when she screamed into her blankets.
    Ystell plucked Bree’s cloak off the peg and handed it to her. “Good night, love.”
    â€œGood night, Ystell.”
    She fussed over her cloak a bit outside the back door, then walked around the bake-oven to a pool of shadows within view of the stables.
    A lantern hung on a peg. Under it sat Attikas, whittling a bit of wood.
    Hellfires,
Bree thought.
Go away! Shoo!
    But he didn’t budge. She snuck back the way she’d come and around the back, skirting the inner wall that embraced the yard in front of the inn’s entrance, sticking to shadows and away from the clamor spilling out of the Crown. This brought her to the other side of the stables, putting her much farther away from the hostler’s range of vision and hearing. She crept through the open stable door and into the closest stall, then curled up in a far corner, making herself as invisible as possible.
    Lelia, I’m never going to forgive you for this,
she thought, heart racing.
    With every passing moment, her credible reasons for being at the Crown faded. Now her most likely story would be that she’d decided to sleep in the stall. But even that would draw unwanted attention.
    Attikas got up at one point, but not to leave the stable. Metal jingled, leather sighed, and a horse snorted and stamped, then he returned to his stool. Minutes later, Ferrin passed in front of her, through a pool of light thrown by one of the stable’s lanterns. He’d changed into a fine velvet doublet and hose, both scarlet, and draped a snowy white cloak over his arm.
    He’s going to the Masque,
she thought.
    â€œHostler!” the Bard bellowed. “My steed!”
    Attikas mumbled something.
    â€œGood work,” Ferrin said. “Help me mount.”
    Attikas mumbled a question.
    â€œThe waxing moon fans the sparks of creativity within,” the Bard replied. “I ride tonight to bask in theglow of my muse. I’ll be back in a few candlemarks. Be sure you’re up to tend to Nightmare when I return.”
    After he rode off, Attikas walked past her stall and into the night.
    She took ten even breaths, waiting. Her ears strained. She heard nothing in the stable but its four-legged occupants. She peered out to make sure no one was there.
    Now,
she thought.
    She all but ran up to where the Companions stood and flung herself on one.
    â€œPlease help,” she whispered, pulling a tightly bound scroll out and tying it into the Companion’s mane. He didn’t stop her. In fact, he leaned against her. “You’re in danger. Your Chosen are in danger! Leave! Deliver this to Haven. Find the Bard Lelia. Tell her to send Heralds. Or an army. I don’t care. Just please bring help. And please
go
.” She flipped his mane over, fairly certain the scroll couldn’t be seen unless he let someone search for it. “My name is Amelie.” Saying her name—her
real
name—caused her eyes to sting.
    Amelie,
she thought.
I want to be Amelie again.
    The Companion gazed at her with wide, blue eyes, full of intelligence and understanding. For the first time in a while, she felt the dim stirrings of hope.
    She forced herself to walk away calmly even though all she wanted was to sprint to the town gates, out of Highjorune, and all the way back to