“Somewhere far.”
“Can I come, too?”
“No, little man.” I smoothed his curls back. “But you’ll be brave, won’t you? You’ll help Brisa. And you’ll take care of the hawk for me.”
Kavi nodded, then he leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispered.
I swallowed hard. “I’ll miss you, too.”
I gave Brisa a nod on the way out. She didn’t glance up from the poultice she was stirring. The infirmary door creaked as I stepped outside, and the wind cut sharper. I walked faster, but mist began curling around my boots, too thick for morning fog.
My skin prickled.
I thought of amber eyes and brutal smiles, and my pace quickened. I glanced over my shoulder, but the alley was empty. I headed home, passing the fountain where merchants’ wives gossiped.
Two Runecloaks stood near it, their voices carrying.
“—they think it’s a servant. Lord Arathi insists someone inside helped.”
My fingers trembled as I hurried past. Of course they suspected one of us. We were always the first to blame. The crowd thickened near the wine merchant. I squeezed through, desperate to get home. Someone shoved past me—a man with a basket of fish. The impact sent me stumbling into a cloaked figure.
I stepped back, looking up at Lord Arathi’s steward, a female with long blonde hair, the tips of her ears poking through. Her nostrils flared slightly.
My blood turned to ice.
“You smell familiar.” Her eyes narrowed with a predatory focus. “Like jasmine and…cherry blossoms.”
That stupid magical courtyard. The jasmine that had clung sweet in the air. Two nights ago, the scent had seemed like nothing, but it had burrowed into my clothes.My hair. I’d been marked the moment I stepped into that garden, and I hadn’t even known it.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m late,” I said, stepping sideways. “My mistress is waiting.”
She moved to block my path. “I asked you a question. That scent is from my lord’s private garden. You don’t have permission to be there.”
I bit on my lip. “You’re mistaken.”
Her hand shot out, gripping my wrist. “You were there the night of the robbery.”
The market noise dimmed. People were turning to stare. A Runecloak swiveled our way, hand moving toward his sword.
“Guards!” she shouted.
I yanked free and ran.
Shouts erupted behind me. I darted left, diving into an alley that reeked of rotting fish. My boots slipped, but I kept running. Another turn. The servants’ entrance to a tavern—I burst through, past startled cooks, out the front door.
I reached our street, lungs burning. The side gate was open. I stumbled through, hurtling up the servant stairs.
Rheya looked up from folding linens. “What?—”
“They know,” I gasped. “Pack everything. Now.”
She blanched. “How long do we have?”
“Not enough. They’re coming.”
