“Go before I change my mind.”
He had to be toying with me.
Then he stepped forward. Not far. Just a single step, but every muscle in my body locked. A prey instinct that knew the wolf was faster, that running would only make it chase.
He reached for me slowly, his fingers stopping inches from my cheek, and I couldn’t move…or breathe.
I seized the satchel and bolted. Snow flew beneath my boots, branches whipping my face as I sped through the garden.
A body crashed into mine and I swung wildly, elbow connecting with something soft.
“Aelie, it’s me!”
Rheya. Oh gods.
I grabbed her arms, checking for wounds. “You’re okay.”
“I’m fine!” She caught my wrists. “What happened?”
I clutched my chest, still catching my breath. “I ran into the executioner. He told me to run.”
Rheya stilled. “What?”
“I know! I thought he’d stab me, but he released me.”
Rheya wrung her hands, grimacing.
Humans weren’t supposed to be able to touch magic at all, let alone break runes or amplify them. We’d shattered that lie in the worst possible way—with witnesses.
“What exactly did he say? Did he threaten you?”
“No, but he knows we looted the house.”
Rheya paled. “We have to disappear. Tonight.”
“Let’s get home.”
“Screw that. Let’s go!”
I shook my head. “We need supplies.”
I clasped her hand, already moving. We hurried through the merchant quarter’s empty streets, the floating lamps casting shadows between the guild halls. At this hour, even the taverns were quiet. Ahead, the checkpoint between quarters loomed—a stone archway flanked by two guards.
I kept my head down, trying to look small. Harmless. Not like a thief who’d stared death in the face.
As we approached, I yanked my sleeve up, flashing thesilver bracelet. The guards barely glanced at the servant marks before we shuffled through.
Rheya pulled her hood low. “Do you think he’ll report us?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s a game,” she hissed. “Sick bastard gets off on terrifying his victims before he guts them. I should’ve been there.”
Armored guards crossed the road, their eyes sliding past us. We drifted into a street lined with townhomes. Ours sat at the end of the block—white marble, squeezed between identical facades, like a row of grinning teeth.
I entered through the side gate. “We’re good.”
Rheya followed.
