Still, I stand at my muddy corner between a hatmaker and an egg stall, and I smile. I wave. I make eye contact with everyone who passes by, stuck in the heart of a foreign city that smells of fish and iron.
The shoppers don’t stop, the merchants ignore me.
No one can tell the difference between tears and raindrops on your cheeks. No one sees your watery smile when you’ve got the clouds to compete with. Even if they could, they wouldn’t do anything, anyway.
So I beg all day and well into the night, with wet hands cupped out in a plea. If anyone reallylookedat me, they’d know I’m not begging for money. Not really.
But no one looks, and I don’t earn those six coins.
When I finally drag my pitiful self to Zakir’s house much later, I curl up in a puddle on the front doorstep—me and one other kid who didn’t meet his quota. Even though we could offer each other warmth and comfort on this dreary night, the boy shuns me too, deciding to climb up the dilapidated eaves and sleep on the roof instead. None of the kids like me much.
That night, I promise the goddesses to never complain about Inara’s sleep-flailing ever again, because getting kicked is a whole lot better than sleeping outside alone.
My chest aches as that memory fades. I sniff, like I’m getting rid of the scent of the sopping village, the saltwater fish, and Zakir’s pipe smoke. I was with him for a long time. Too long. I spent many nights where the only blanket I had was the cover of darkness.
From five years old to fifteen, I never truly had a good night’s sleep—not until Midas rescued me.
“You’re safe now. Let me help you.”
It’s so strange to think about—how I went from that girl begging on a muddy corner, to a woman adorned in a gilded castle. Life takes you on paths you don’t have a map for.
I turn my face to the carriage window, seeing the snow flurries drifting by, fog clouding up the glass. What I wouldn’t give for Midas to ride in right now with torch and sword in hand to rescue me.
But he doesn’t know where I am, doesn’t even know that I’m in trouble. Which is why it’s more important than ever that I get a message to him. Not just for myself, but because the last thing I want is for this army to sneak up on Fifth Kingdom and slaughter them all.
If I don’t do everything in my power to warn Midas of what’s coming, then the fate of Fifth Kingdom will be my fault.
I can’t fail.
A warning is all I have to offer. It’s not much, but hopefully it’s enough to help Midas meet the threat on a more even footing.
Once he finds out that I’ve been taken, I know there’s nothing he won’t do to get me back.Nothing.
When the gloom of a gray dusk descends, my carriage lurches to a stop, and I feel the jostle of my driver jumping down from his seat. I swipe my sleeve against the window, leaving a clear streak to peek out.
Outside, there’s a singular rise in the ground, a hill that slopes gently up like a dune of snow. At its center, the hill is hollow and shockingly blue. It’s so bright, even in the dark,that it almost seems unnatural, like a giant who’s fallen asleep on the ground, a blanket of snow covering all of him except for that dazzling blue iris peeking out.
The soldiers make their main camp right at the center of the short, yet wide length of cave. Soon, they have a large fire built right at its pupil, a glittering wink of flame that sheds light on the deeper part of the cavern.
The click of my lock sounds, and the carriage door swings open, revealing Osrik. I step down, the ground slightly slippery beneath my shoes. All around me, tents are being put up, horses gathered, fires lit, a latrine being shoveled.
“Commander wants to see you.”
I look up at him. “Why?”
His tongue moves the wooden piercing in his bottom lip in an absentminded gesture.
“I’m tasked to fetch you. Not to answer stupid questions.”
I sigh. “Great. Lead the way.”
I follow him as he cuts a path through the camp, but it’s not easy. I have to dodge soldiers, veer around exposed stakes in the ground, and slog through snow that hasn’t been packed down by footsteps yet.
When I nearly trip over a pile of wood that’s been dumped to make a campfire, I curse, barely catching myself before I end up face-first in the snow. Osrik looks back at me with a smirk.
My blood boils. “You’re purposely leading me on the shittiest path you can find, aren’t you?”
“You catch on a little slow, but I’m glad to see you’ve arrived at the realization,” he replies, the bastard.
