Chapter 12 - A Familiar Stranger

Penrith, Vanstead Dukedom of Augustein Year 995

The tavern was quiet in the morning. Amara rose early, brushing aside any lingering sleepiness and quickly finishing her morning routine before bounding down the stairs. The sun was just barely beginning to rise, and the tavern was half shrouded in shadows. All of the torches were put out, and there were only a few patrons seated at the tables eating breakfast. Amara’s eyes landed on Wallace, who was wiping glasses behind the counter. He raised an eyebrow as Amara walked over, not pausing his work.

“You’re up early,” he remarked.

Amara chuckled. “You sound surprised.”

Wallace shrugged. “You didn’t strike me as a morning person.” His eyes swept the largely empty tavern, then landed back on Amara. He nodded. “Well, if you want breakfast, there’s some bread and eggs over there.” He pointed to a table in the back, where a few plates of food rested. “It’s probably cold, but that’s the best you’re getting from me. Nowhere near as good as my wife’s, but it’ll have to do.”

Amara snorted. “Don’t worry, I’m not picky.” It was a fact that had troubled Joan for years. She was constantly trying to find new foods that Amara would “love,” as she put it. Colm had taken the opposite approach after he’d found out about her lack of opinions on foods, instead opting to find the most disgusting meals he could think of in an attempt to elicit a reaction. He, like Joan, was unsuccessful, and Amara had enjoyed watching the boy’s growing horror as she shoveled increasingly suspicious foods into her mouth without a care in the world.

“You heading to the forest today?”

Amara nodded, shifting her bag as she did so. She hadn’t bothered unpacking the previous night. “Yep,” she said, pronouncing the ‘p’ with a pop.

Wallace shook his head. “Well, have fun with your little magic forest. Stay out of trouble.” He made a shooing motion. “Now go hurry and eat before everything’s gone.”

Amara didn’t mention that she doubted it would ever all be gone, considering how sparse the inn was. She simply grinned and gave the man a salute before striding over to the table, where she grabbed a plate and filled it in quick, simple movements, barely giving the actual food a second glance.

Amara turned to find a place to sit down, but as she did so, a flash of black caught her eye. Her head snapped to the side, and she froze.

There, sitting at a lone table shoved to the corner of the room and half obscured by shadows, sat a woman watching the conversation. Her pale complexion seemed to glow in the morning light, and long, straight black hair fell in a waterfall around her, contrasting against her skin. Every time she moved, the strands would gleam with an almost blue-ish tint. The woman raised an eyebrow, meeting Amara’s gaze without hesitation.

Images of another head of dark, silky hair swarmed in her mind, though that hair had been short and bouncy, the opposite of the woman’s more elegant cut.

Amara’s fingers tightened around the plate. She was faintly aware of Wallace glancing between the two of them with his brows furrowed, but she didn’t pay him any attention, too busy focusing on the woman. There was no recognition in those keen eyes, only a calm confidence that didn’t look quite right on those eerily similar features.

Turning around, Amara strode towards the corner without hesitating, weaving around the tables and not stopping until she was directly in front of the woman, who hadn’t moved an inch.

Upon closer inspection, the resemblance was definitely there in the slope of the nose, the arc of the eyebrows, but it was easier to spot the differences. The woman’s eyes were a pale blue, for one, whereas Edith’s had been a warm, dark brown. The way she carried herself, however, was the biggest difference. Edith had a constant, thrumming energy about her, a restlessness that flared like flames and was nothing like this woman’s aura. Amara adjusted her hold on the plate.

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The woman’s eyes were observant in an assured, relaxed way. Even when Amara stared directly at them, she couldn’t find any trace of the piercing cold she’d felt following her in Penrith. Based on appearances alone, the woman didn’t seem capable of that degree of intensity. Amara smiled to herself. Interesting.

She took a step closer.

“You were watching me,” Amara said, not bothering with preamble. She watched for any twitch or change in demeanor, but found none. The internal smile widened. So that’s how it’s gonna be.

The woman chuckled. Her voice was smooth, rich, and flowed like running water.

“I suppose I was being rather obvious, wasn’t I?” She nodded down at Amara’s scarred arms, not bothering to mask her intrigue. Amara found the bluntness oddly refreshing. Usually people were either obviously curious and terrible at hiding it, or, like Wallace, didn’t seem to care much at all.

“I wasn’t expecting to find another traveler here, and you do have a rather unusual appearance, if you’ll forgive me for being frank,” the woman continued. She nodded over at the counter, where Wallace had returned to wiping dishes, apparently satisfied that nothing would come to blows. “I happened to overhear your conversation. You’re heading towards the Warped Forest, correct?”

Amara raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, something like that.”

The woman gestured at herself, and Amara noted the dark black gloves she wore. Their smooth fabric reflected the morning light now fully streaming in through the windows, forming sharp shapes around the creases.

“I happen to be traveling in that direction myself. Do you mind if I join you?”

Amara stared at the woman in front of her. Her expression remained perfectly calm, and her body language was relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that it was unnatural. There was no fidgeting, no shifting, no flicker of nerves. It was the sort of practiced stillness that she and the other kids had mastered in the facility, when they slept motionless in the cells and learned to stay static during experiments. It took most of them months—and for some, years—to fully grasp it.

There was nothing accidental in the woman’s movements, and that was enough confirmation for Amara. A slow smile spread across her face. She felt a familiar excitement rising in her, the thrill of solving a puzzle, of unmasking a secret.

She took in the rest of the woman’s appearance rapidly. Amara could tell that her clothes were made of fairly fine quality fabric, better than an average peasant, but they weren’t showy or outrageously expensive, either. She had on a pair of teardrop shaped earrings that swung when she moved her head, and a sturdy traveling bag rested on the seat beside her. Amara couldn’t see any visible weapons.

The gloves remained the most notable detail. They were plain and lacked the stitched patterns that watchmen’s gloves had, which meant she wasn’t part of them, but used magic often enough to still choose to wear a pair.

Amara’s eyes flickered back up. The woman had clearly known she was studying her and didn’t seem to mind; then again, Amara was certain she’d done the same. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re also looking for the forest?”

The woman chuckled. “Well, not specifically, but I was planning on seeing the mines. They’re in the same direction, I believe.”

“That’s kind of weird.” Amara’s voice was blunt, though her lips were drawn into a grin. She set her plate of food down on the table and took a seat across from the woman, who didn’t acknowledge Amara’s new position.

“Perhaps, but no less strange than yourself.”

Amara stared at her, and the woman met her gaze without a single sign of discomfort.

“You know the way?”

The woman nodded. Her hair swayed with the motion, the light shifting across the strands. “I was planning on heading there after breakfast, actually, if you would care to join me.” She paused, then added as an afterthought, “If you’d rather not, that’s fine as well.” Amara could tell from the way she said it that she didn’t really think she would reject the offer.

She could practically hear Colm yelling about her being a “reckless idiot” in her head and Joan scolding her and saying how suspicious this was. Amara cocked her head to the side. Her plate of food rested on the table beside her, untouched. If it wasn’t already cold, then it definitely was now.

Unfortunately for them, the stranger’s obvious ulterior motives only made her heart beat faster with a rising thrill. She found herself wanting to speak and learn more about this woman who looked like Edith and kept her thoughts so closely guarded. She wanted to confirm for herself that those blue eyes were indeed the ones she’d felt following her, to see them head on and unobstructed.

“What’s your name?” she suddenly asked. She leaned forward, her arms pressing into the table. The woman blinked at her, and Amara pointed a thumb at herself. “I’m Amara.”

There was no recognition in the woman’s eyes. She held out a gloved hand to shake, which Amara did so readily. Her grip was firmer than she thought it would be, and Amara felt her smile widening.

“Isolde,” the woman said. “My name is Isolde.”