I grasp that thread in my mind, tugging on the warmth that greets me. I smile widely at the guards as I lean in, as if I’m about to impart some great secret.
I point with a single finger, tasting metal on my lips. “On your left, I think.”
Almost to a man, they all twist their heads to look left as I step back.
Only that one guard keeps his eyes on me, following my lead. A cacophony of cries and grunts come from behind him as more heavy wooden boxes slam into the group. They split open on impact, scattering goods across the floor.
I meet the guard’s eyes. And shrug. “I did warn them.”
He yanks his sword from his belt, his aim steady as he raises it. “Enough.”
But it is not enough. Not now—not now that I’ve started. And the maegis—it agrees with me, the warmth in my chest growing and spreading until I could sing for the strength of it. The guards’ dark eyes widen at the change on my face.
That metallic taste in my mouth grows stronger. He swallows, throat bobbing as my hand raises. My fingers flick, and his sword is ripped from his sweaty grasp as I reach out and catch the hilt, then turn it over in my hands. “This is a lovely weapon. You really should take better care of it.”
His face is ashen now. “I’m just doing my job.”
If I had a crown for every time an asshole uses that for an excuse.
I meet his gaze. “I don’t know where your murderer is. We’ve seen no other Caelumnai since we’ve been here.”
The sword clatters to the ground at his feet, and I turn. “I have answered your question. This conversation is finished.”
The men around him are gathering, pulling themselves up, shouting to each other. The noise rises in the shocked market. Turning, I catch glimpses of people slowly emerging from where they had ducked out of sight. But there are still eyes watching.
Slipping my hands back into my pocket, I set off for the exit.
Waiting.
And as I walk, the stalls around me shake. Trembling, shifting and sending things tumbling to the floor. A display of scarves. Leather pouches. Thin copper bracelets to ward off the maegis,for those superstitious enough.
Only one stallholder remains in sight, vainly attempting to keep her stock in place on her stall. Pulling the bag of coins from my pocket, I toss the rest to her. “My apologies for any damages.”
Merrick is going to be furious with me.
The shouts are joined by heavy steps, and I blow out a breath as I step underneath the stone arch that acts as the entrance and exit to the market.
Angry movement turns to a scramble when I spin, lifting my arms up.
If they want a show, they can damned-well have one.
And as the dark-eyed guard draws to a stop a few feet away, I lift my arms up in the air.
Just to add to the panic in their faces, I wiggle my fingers for good measure.
The arch above my head begins to shake. Cracks appear down the stone walls that tower above me on either side. One byone, the cracks grow stronger, until thousands of pieces of stone hover in the air, casting shadows across the ground that block out the morning sun.
“Gods.” A hiss sounds from in front of me.
My smile is twisted. “There are no gods here. Only me.”
It feelsgood. Like exercising an atrophied muscle, stiff from disuse. It’s all too soon, but there’s no use in worrying over things I can no longer change.
The guardia argue frantically between themselves. Finally, they gather themselves enough to form a line, edging forward.
The stone hovering above us shifts into a line before it drops from the sky in a hail.
A heavy cloud of dust erupts with a crash as the rocks slam into the ground between us, forming a new wall which runs the length of the now broken wall foundations on either side, high enough that it blocks my view of the panicked inritus on the other side completely.
