"I can't run much further, Taran," Poppy moaned between heavy breaths. "I'm sorry. I was never good at running. Clover's better at it than I am, even if she does fall over sometimes."
"It's alright," I wheezed, wheeling us into a slender laneway filled with shops devoted to leather handbags and soft shoes ladies might enjoy wearing.
I knew we were in trouble when Poppy didn't glance at any of the windows as we staggered through the crowd.
"How long will she chase us?"
"I don't know," I said. "Last time she chased me, it took four days for her to give up."
"Four days?" Poppy wailed, her fingers gripping my arm tight. "Taran, it's not even been four hours! What even does she want?"
"Probably to invite me to dinner."
"Dinner?" Poppy blinked at me, struggling to keep my pace. Disbelieve crept into her voice, threatening to derail into hysteria. "We're running away so you don't have to go to dinner with her?"
"Poppy, you underestimate the danger we are in. If I agreed to have dinner with her, what do you think would be main course?"
"Chicken?"
I dragged her into a small alcove and lifted her tired head to stare into her eyes. "No. Not chicken." I sighed. "I'm afraid that, given her mood, main course would most likely be Poppy a'la Crème preceded by Poppy Pâté."
She giggled, then her humour stuttered to a halt. "You're not joking?"
"Not in the slightest."
"But what did I do to her?"
"You existed." I heaved another heavy sigh. "For her, that's enough."
"But I can't see what she has against me!"
"My ex-wife is a woman of intense and tightly focused passions," I told her as quickly as I could, my eyes scanning the nearby crowd. "She lives in a fantasy world inspired by romance novels and tragic plays, both of which she's addicted to. Simply put, Poppy, she's deluded and insanely jealous. She saw you holding my arm as we left the tower and is no doubt obsessed with the thought that you are sleeping with me."
"Oh?" She put a hand to her mouth. "She wants to kill me for that?"
"Yes."
"But, I mean, we haven't…" She trailed off, her cheeks flushing. "Not yet… I mean…"
"None of which matters to her. She believes only what her fertile imagination can conjure to suit her deranged narrative." I shook my head. "There's no pleading with her. No convincing her. And definitely no reasoning."
"We can't just run in circles for four days, though," she stammered.
"It's alright," I said, giving her a pat on the head. "I have a plan."
"What plan?"
"We need to get to-" I cut off as I saw a flash of blonde through the crowd. "Quick! Run!"
"Oh no, not again," she wailed as I tugged her out of the alcove and down the nearest alley.
"I'm sorry," I panted. "This isn't how I thought today was going to go."
"Me neither!" She pouted, giving my arm a squeeze. "I had hoped for a nice long walk with pleasant words and maybe some flowers. And a nice meal! Oh, now I'm so hungry…"
"I'll make it up to you later."
"I hope so," she mumbled. "Can I ask something?"
"You may."
"She's definitely your ex-wife, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I was just asking…"
I led her into a curving street. We wormed through the crowd, my hand tightly clutching hers.
"Taran!" Madeline's voice shrieked from behind us. "Wait!"
I ground my teeth in frustration, pulling poor Poppy faster. The poor girl stumbled, and I turned just in time to catch her as she fell asleep.
Scooping her up, I caught a glimpse of Madeline's face rising above the crowd before I spun away and pushed my way ahead. Curses and shouts of outrage cracked in my wake, but I cared nothing for the cries of the befuddled who failed to recognise the evil in their midst.
I pushed into a small tavern.
"Back door?" I called to the barmaid.
Who showed experience by nodded politely to a hallway. "Third on your left, love."
"Thank you!"
Scrambling as fast as I could, I shot out the back and pushed through a small gate to find myself in a quiet lane haunted by shadows and a few skittering rats. An old man poked his nose out from a nearby window.
Gave me a bit of a stare.
Then slammed his window shut and snapped the curtains closed.
Smart choice.
"Taran!" Madeline's furious scream sounded far away, but not far enough.
I emerged onto a street I recognised, and felt my heart give a hesitant skip as hope flared. I could see a sign up ahead that made me grin.
Bawdy Bertha's Mens Club.
A logo, two ample breasts, promised debauchery, wickedness, and the delight of soft female flesh.
Rabid with desperation, I flung myself towards the place, kicking up my heels as high as they would go. I knew how the world worked.
If I didn't kick up my heels, I would trip and fall and Madeline would launch herself out of nowhere and pin me to the road.
It would be messy.
No.
No, that wouldn't happen to me. Hefting Poppy in my arms, I set a grim smile on my face and ignored the fire burning in my lungs and down my limbs.
"Taran!"
I glanced over my shoulder.
She was there! Storming down the street. Lifting the hem of her lacy dress. A parasol in her hand, which she swung like a sword to send people scurrying out of her way.
"Move, you ants," she snarled. "Move!"
One didn't move fast enough and she flattened him with a high overhand thwack to the head.
I aimed myself at the brothel, my back screaming with the pain of overexertion. While Poppy didn't exactly weigh an awful lot, I had been carrying her for most of the morning.
I was exhausted.
"Taran! Don't you dare take another step! Where do you think you're going?"
"It's none of your bloody business!"
"Stand where you are, Husband!"
"For the last time!" I roared, seeing the door so close. "We're bloody divorced!"
I tumbled the last few steps, my shoulder slamming into the brothel door with a loud bang that sent it smashing open to almost hit the bouncer in the face. He gave me a surprised blink, then looked at Poppy and frowned darkly.
"She's just sleeping!" I felt panic as I saw his intention to throw me out. "And I'm a member!"
"Card."
"Left pocket!"
He dug into my jacket and retrieved the card.
"I require a Private room," I told him. "As per my agreement with Miss Pellington."
"Ah," he said, nodding as if it all made perfect sense. "You're the void mage."
"Yes."
"Upstairs. Room 301."
I felt relief splash over me like cold water even as Madeline's outraged howl pierced the air behind me. "A brothel? I knew it! I knew it! Taran! Get out here, you cheating bastard!"
The bouncer looked at me, his brow furrowed deeply.
"She's not with me," I told him. "I don't know who she is. I think she's crazy."
"Really."
"Yes," I said, knowing that neither of us was very truthful. But knowing I was also a member and entitled to a Private room. "Now, I'm sorry, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. If you can hold her off for about five minutes, I'll tip generously."
"How generous?"
"Two hundred gold."
"That's quite generous."
"It'll be worth every coin."
"Alright." He cracked his knuckles. "Five minutes it is."
And, as I kicked in the door of room 301, I heard the first meaty thud of Madeline's parasol followed by an outraged squeal.
"I don't think he's going to last two," I sighed.
But this was a brothel, so what more could one expect?