Decoy Danger

Somehow Shila had managed to seamlessly make herself at home with everyone else, and now even if she had wanted to leave they would’ve tried to talk her into staying. Mylo thought he must be forming an ulcer because the perpetual knot in his stomach pulled even tighter. He knew she had as much reason as any of them to want to push back against the Emory’s and the other families like them who had been ruining countless lives for years; that was exactly why he’d taken all the others under his care; but she was a special circumstance. None of the others were William Hyde’s only daughter. He grimaced at the thought. But there was nothing to be done about it now; she was here and it would be up to him to keep her in one piece.

Mylo had been staring at the ceiling for about half an hour after a fitful night of sleep, and he supposed he may as well get up and face the day. Queenie had slept on him again, curled up on his chest and now he had cat fur in his mouth. He tried to sit up but she made a mew of protest, opening one eye to glare at him.

“I’m sorry, but some of us have responsibilities, you know,” he said. She appeared unimpressed, closing her eye again and refusing to move. Mylo supposed he could just shove her off of him, but he actually felt guilty at the thought of doing so.

“Hopefully none of our enemies ever find out I’m being bossed around by a cat,” he muttered. He had to lay there for another forty-five minutes until Queenie finally opened her eyes and stretched, head butting him again.

“Oh, has her imperious Royal Majesty finally decided to allow her humble servant to start his day?” Mylo grumbled. Queenie blinked slowly, licked his nose, and hopped away to go find Shila and demand her breakfast. Mylo brushed the white fur off his nose and chest and dragged himself up to get dressed and splash some cold water on his face. He studied his reflection for a moment, noting that there was a little furrow of worry between his pale blue eyes, even first thing in the morning. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to smooth the frown out and splashed some more water on his face. He still looked tired and decidedly scruffy, but it would have to do.

When he came downstairs, Queenie had clearly badgered Shila awake and she was now feeding the cat and making soft cooing noises at her. She glanced up as Mylo came down.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” Mylo mumbled, plucking some berries out of a big bowl on the counter. He stared at the countertop for a few moments.

“Storm clouds are moving in,” he said suddenly. “It’s probably going to storm for a couple of days, so we’ll want to leave a day or two after it stops to avoid any flooded roads and having to protect all the supplies from getting wet. Storms this time of year are intense. I’ll figure out a plan while we wait for the rain to pass.”

“Okay,” Shila nodded. “Good idea.”

He felt her studying him as she sat across the counter and helped herself to some berries too. He glanced up briefly to see a combination of wariness and curiosity in her gaze. Her braid was messy from sleep but in the pale morning light streaming through the window he realized, against his will, that she was pretty. It made him acutely more aware of how disheveled he always was. He stood abruptly, and she seemed startled.

“I’m going to go chop some firewood,” he said. “So we’ll have it when the storm comes in. This house is pretty drafty.”

He quickly retreated from the house. He went out back to the collection of little logs they’d gathered there. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and picked up the long handled ax, setting to work chopping up some useful firewood. He fell into a rhythm and thought while he chopped. They’d need to sort out money and rations before the journey, and he’d need to dig out the map he’d found in the study to figure out the best route to get there. His thoughts wandered back to how he really wished that Shila wasn’t insisting on coming along. But of course she’d want to help the rebellion if it meant she might find her father.

Mylo himself wasn’t sure if he was still alive; the last Mylo had heard he’d been moved a few months ago from the standard prison in Oakhurst to the more secured, more intimidating prison outside of Oakhurst; it wasn’t even properly within the borders of a town. It was just a long structure of dark stone known as Hellsgate. It had been constructed not long before the rebellion began, since the regular jail was so stuffed full of “tax evaders” and eventually the rebel traitors that they were running out of room. Mylo had been asking around since then, hoping someone would eventually be able to tell him more. He didn’t want to tell Shila any of that, though. Hellsgate had only existed for a few years but it already had a sinister reputation and it would no doubt terrify her to know her father was there. If he could get confirmation that William was alive, he could maybe convince enough people to help him stage a jailbreak.

Mylo sensed a presence behind him and spun around. Shila jumped.

“I just thought you might like some water,” she said, gesturing to the cup in her hand. “You’ve been out here for a long time. I think we have enough firewood to last until next spring.”

Mylo grimaced faintly as he realized he had neatly stacked up a huge pile of wood. He hadn’t noticed how long he’d been at it.

“Right. Thanks,” he mumbled, accepting the water.

“Trina and I just got back from picking some more nuts and berries,” Shila went on. “So we don’t have to go out in the rain.”

Mylo made a noncommittal noise in reply, taking a gulp of water.

“So, how did you end up joining the rebellion?” she asked. Mylo almost choked on his water.

“Not much for small talk, are we?” he said. She shrugged.

“We’re working together now, I might as well know something about you.”

“Working together,” he repeated with a snort. “You just planted yourself in the middle of a rebel camp and insist on becoming one of us.”

“I already told you-“

“I know,” Mylo said, holding up a hand to halt her rant. “It’s for your parents, and no matter how bad an idea it is to get involved with all this, you’re not going to back down. You’ve made your point on that. It’s the same way the rest of them ended up here.”

Shila glanced toward the cottage, then back at him. “You still didn’t answer my question, about why you joined.”

“I need to take in the firewood,” Mylo said, still evading the question. He called Bret out to help him haul wood inside, then he set about making sure the windows were all closed and that none were going to leak and let rain inside. He rearranged the sparse furniture in the parlor, opening up more space in front of the fireplace before laying out everything he could find to make the floor comfortable. The fireplace only did a good job heating the one room; the house was already growing chilly as night fell and thunder signaled that the storm was on its way. Mylo set a single blanket and pillow aside in the far corner for himself, making sure everyone else would be closer to the warmth as he began stoking a fire.

Trina bounded in excitedly. “I love sleepover nights,” she exclaimed. Lola came over and handed him a bowl.

“You missed dinner again, Mylo,” she scolded gently. “Eat.”

He flashed her a small smile and accepted the bowl. Everyone else piled into the room as the rain started. It was a shower for a few minutes, then turned into a downpour. Mylo tucked himself into his corner, eating his dinner in silence while Trina asked Shila to do her hair again and Bret tried to remember the words to a fairly inappropriate pub song. Mylo rolled his eyes but he smiled a little. At least they were having fun for now. Then he sighed as Queenie trotted over and promptly curled up in his lap. She seemed disquiet with the pounding rain and thunder outside, and Mylo reluctantly began to pet her soft fur. After a few minutes she began to purr as she dozed off.

“Looks like Mylo got a girlfriend,” Bret joked and Mylo shot him a dark look.

“She’s scared of the storm,” he said defensively, though that only made Bret smirk more and Trina giggled.

“Knock it off or you can both sleep outside,” Mylo grumbled, feeling his ears get warm.

“Don’t mind Mylo,” Lola told Shila, looking amused. “He’s not really as cranky as he pretends to be.”

“Yes I am,” Mylo said. “All of you make me very cranky.”

“He’s really a very nice boy,” Lola went on, ignoring him. Mylo just sulked in his corner, petting the cat he hadn’t wanted and hoping no one noticed his face was red.