man to sigh. “Yavenharrow natives are very impatient.” He winked. “See you later, Stella.”
Sol watched him leave, still entranced by his demeanor and cool features. If she had to guess, she would say he was from Niome, or Ventry, somewhere deeper south where their features were common.
The evening had cooled as the clouds continued to darken, so much so that Sol could barely see through the haze and rain. She looked down to her mother’s herb garden, spotting the bare spec where the man had plucked the stems.
Shielding herself from the oncoming rain with her satchel, she quickly scooped up some dirt and stray leaves to cover it, saving the soil from becoming unsavory for when she planted a fresh batch.
Just as she dug her fingers into the ground, hot pain sliced through them.
“What the—” Sol cursed as she yanked her hand against her chest, sure she had hit some sort of thorn.
She inched closer.
No, not a thorn.
Sol pulled at the metal chain, freeing it from beneath the sand and dirt. It was a curious necklace, loud and resplendent despite the gray air. A pendant in its center sparkled as she held it to her face, the shape of a six-pointed star made of delicate golden strips.
It reminded her of the birthmark on her back, the one she had shared with her mother and the women before her.
Another booming horn made her flinch. She clutched the thing and swirled to the ports.
As the rain began to pour, Sol swore the mysterious man lingered over the edge of the now-sailing ship. With an uneasy feeling, she realized he hadn’t told her his name.
Two
AT NIGHT, ALL THINGS BITE
SOL FOUNDHERSELFexhausted before the night even began. She battled with the notion of throwing the necklace into the Helian Ocean, but the pendant was pretty, so she vainly decided to keep it.
Yavenharrow at night was lovely, a sight she enjoyed with more ease when whispers of murders weren’t around, but she still took the scenic route—with her hand wrapped around a knife.
She walked back into town the way she came, thankful the heavy rain lasted only a few minutes while she took cover beneath the roof of some bait shops. About two miles behind the Archives, the Inns began on either side of the road. After the inns were the taverns and bakeries.
Sol had learned the taverns in the town were rowdy but fun before midnight. After that, the people became feral, thirsty for way more than just ale. But she had learned the ones to dance at and the ones meant for talking. Even Leo enjoyed the occasional dark ale, though he wouldn't admit it.
Smiling to herself, she gazed up at the inky sky to look at the stars. The town was silent, serene as night settled. Only the soft rumble of the taverns and late-night eateries vibrated across the cobblestone, evidence her home lived and thrived and enjoyed.
Sol wasn’t a fan of the stillness, it made her mind wander, and her skin tight. She needed life, a purpose, something to remind her that anything was possible in a world that liked to make thingsimpossible. Yavenharrow fulfilled some of that incessant need— but not enough.
The rain had stopped completely by the time Sol rounded the corner to the Hound, the smell of dewy grass clinging to the air. Her workplace was a solitary building, constructed from a mix of sandstone and clay. There were a few stray windows from the second and third floors lit with soft amber candlelight, the only indication the place housed travelers.
Her footsteps echoed atop the pavement of the thin walkway as she passed the front lawn. She was about to push the doors open when a series of whistles made her halt.
“Hey, Keelin,” Sol said, not bothering to look behind her at her boss.
Sol knew what she would find: one of the most devastatingly handsome men she had ever seen, with cyan eyes that seemed to pierce her soul. She had almost not taken the job when he offered it to her, for fear she would never be able to tear her focus away from him. But he offered her a generous schedule and free food whenever she had breaks. Plus, he never asked for her full name, something all other places had demanded. He had only asked her to do a full turn, then threw an apron at her.
“You’re soaked,” Keelin observed, stepping up beside her and leaning his back against the door.
Sol shrugged. “It rained.”
“Not very professional to come to your shift in wet clothing, lovely.”
She cut her gaze to him. Even in the dim light, she could see his smirk. “Good thing it’s just me the whole night in there with no one to complain, huh?”
He smoothed his crimson tunic and said coolly, “I didn’t say anything about complaints.” He finished the sentence with a sly wink. “Good thing I ran into you. I’ve been meaning to tell you I will be docking your pay.”
Sol blinked. “Is this because I came in wet clothes?”
