He’s still coming for me.
She knew it, even though she didn’t deserve it.
She had hurt him—horribly—because her own hurt and guilt had been too much to bear. What she’d done was inexcusable. She didn’t expect forgiveness. She only hoped she would have a chance to apologize to him, because fates knew he deserved that.
Vera swallowed and forced away thoughts of Venn. She needed to focus.
She followed the morning crowd despite her protesting feet, and was eventually pulled to what had to be the main center of Krid. A large fountain dominated the vast square, fronted by shops on all sides and streets that cut out diverse paths into the city. Stalls and carts took up much of the free space in the square, and men and women shouted their wares in the rounded drawl of Mortisian. She perked up when she heard phrases in the trade language, as men and women bartered. More purple flags hung on display and there was a festive air as people went about their business. Children darted through the crowd, and Vera saw several lifting purses as they went. Dogs barked and scavenged for scraps of food, and she spotted some cats slinking about as well. Even the birds in Krid seemed desperate, pecking for crumbs on the cobblestones as they hopped over the ground.
She hated this city.
She made her way to the fountain, trying to ignore the looks the women gave her as they gathered water. Several of them whispered as they eyed her frayed wrists and worn dress.
Shame heated her face, and she wanted to scrub all the dirt away. She wanted to feelhuman. But as more eyes turned to her, all she really felt was exposed. If Salim and his men were listening or watching for any sign of her, it would be far too easy to follow rumors of a dirty, haggard Devendran woman lingering in the squares of Krid.
Suddenly, coming to the city’s center seemed like a terrible idea. What if Tariq suspected she would come here, andhewas here?
Her heart kicked against her ribs and she ducked her head, sidling away from the women as she hurried to put the fountain behind her. The pounding rush of the water was almost deafening, and it made her pulse thready. What if she didn’t hear Tariq come up behind her?
She searched the crowd with darting eyes as her fingers slipped into the pocket that held her knife. The cool hilt in her palm brought a measure of comfort. All of Serene’s maids received defensive training, though fighting had never been in Vera’s nature. She wasn’t as good as Ivonne had been, and certainly not as good as Clare, who’d been given more training than any of them. But Vera knew how to wield a knife, and she would not give up her freedom or her life without a fight.
The smell of spiced meats and tangy fruits made her stomach curl sharply. She was starving, but there wasn’t much she could do without coin, and she wasn’t about to trade her dagger.
Vera was nearly to the edge of the square when the hairs on her arms lifted. She turned on instinct, clutching the knife in her pocket until her knuckles creaked.
The crowd parted briefly, revealing the fountain she’d just left behind, and she froze, elation and doubt both tearing inside her.
Impossible.
The milling crowd hid him before she could blink. Before she could decide if it was reallyhim.
Venn.
He hadn’t looked quite right, even in that quick glimpse. He hadn’t been smiling, and his expression had been overly hard—not like Venn at all. It could have been a trick of her mind; she’d pictured him so clearly in her mind and she longed to find him so badly, her imagination had conjured him. That was all.
But if itwashim . . .
Her pulse hammered. Without giving her feet the order, she started walking back toward the fountain. She pushed around the people blocking her way, but progress was slow—too slow. What if she lost him?
“Venn,” she breathed out, far too softly to be heard over the noise in the square. She sucked in a breath and called out louder, “Venn!”
There was no answer and she couldn’t see him through the crowd, but she continued to move. A man shoved her, cursing her in Mortisian. She only dodged around him and kept going, shifting into a run.
“Venn!”
Her desperate cry was surely swallowed by the rumble of the crowd and the pounding of the fountain, but she didn’t stop calling out to him. Didn’t stop searching for him.
And then there he was, standing on the rimmed edge of the fountain, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. He searched the square with narrowed eyes, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the crowd. His brow was creased, his mouth a thin line. Tension coiled in his shoulders and strands of black hair stuck to his ebony skin. Most of his hair was tied with a leather cord into a bun at the back of his head, and he wasn’t wearing a uniform—but it was him. Even at this distance, after this ageless time apart, she knew him.
She would always know him.
“Venn!”
He didn’t react, his cool gaze still roving the crowd. He’d already looked past her. Hadn’t seen her. Hadn’t heard her.
Her stomach lurched and she pressed harder, heedless of the annoyed looks and sharp elbows that caught her sides. “Venn!”
This time, he stilled at her cry. Then his chest rose with a hard breath. “Vera!” He spun on the edge of the fountain, his eyes digging over the square as he searched for her.
