Along this street of the shanties, homes still stand. Perhaps too poor and decrepit for the fae to worry abouttorching, because they already look ruined. Fortunately, they’re far enough from the forest’s edge that we should be safe from the flames so long as the fire doesn’t jump the street.
I count everyone again, letting out a breath when all are accounted for. They’re panting hard and streaked with ash and sweat, but they’re here.
“Alright, I’ll lead the way. Stay behind me. No talking. I’ll find us a building where you’ll all be safe. Then I’ll go out in search of supplies.”
Everyone nods, seemingly too weary to speak.
My attention focuses as I turn, gaze searching for any movement or danger. Yet the street ahead seems silent and empty. The storied homes are crooked and dilapidated, shared yards nothing but broken walls covered in snow.
Other than some charring against some of the stone, it looks far better than any of the buildings at the heart of the city, and blessedly free of fae.
I set my sights on the building that’s closest to the tree line and then start leading the way down the slope. I’ll get us into one of these houses, and once everyone is inside and secure, I’ll search for supplies.
One positive is that with the amount of smoke already polluting the air, I don’t believe it will be a risk to have a fire of our own, so my people can gather around a fireplace to warm up while I look for food.
As soon as I get them settled, I’ll return to the tree line and shoot up a line of magic for Dommik to see, though I’ll need to do it in a way that’s not too obvious, yet enough for him to spot through the smoke.
One problem at a time.
With my plan in place, I feel more settled, more sure of myself. The snow bank opens up and swallows my feet with every step, but I ignore it as I heft my legs forward. If it weren’tfor the frigid magic beneath my skin, I have a feeling I’d be frozen through, so I know my people desperately need to get out of the elements.
Someone lets out a garbled cry, and I flinch at the sound that seems to echo. When I turn around, I see two people have fallen, the bottom halves of their bodies sinking into the thick snow. Four others rush in to help pull them out.
My heart pounds, head whipping around to make sure we haven’t been discovered. Yet the street stays quiet and empty.
As soon as my people are back on their feet, there’s a new sense of urgency in my veins. We’re too out in the open. I need to get them inside.
I wave my hand at them and hurry the rest of the way down the shallow slope. At the bottom, I stop and wait for the others, counting them once more.
When the last one has made it down, I glance up at the fire consuming the forest. Black smoke pours from hundred-foot flames, the sound of a thousand beasts consuming branches like snapping bones of dead prey. I turn around to face the street again, while the world burns at my back.
They follow me in a huddled group, and we go around the first building. There’s a torn tarp and a broken cart inside the yard, though the snowbank is taller than the fence posts. The building itself is a mishmash of stonework for the bottom level and wood for the next two levels. The roof sags around the ash-stained chimney, but otherwise, it’s intact.
We walk along its side and I stop everyone before I peer around the corner. There are abandoned buckets and broken crates up and down the cracked street, and puddles crusted with frost. Doors either sag against thresholds or are missing completely, while windows lie shattered and trash litters the street.
“The fae have been through here,” I murmur.
Dari shifts Neira in her arms as she peeks out to look, but then she shakes her head. “No, Majesty. The shanties always look like this. Looks like the fae didn’t bother to come down here at all.”
Shock hits me in the chest. “This…this wasn’t ransacked?”
She shakes her head again. “This is how it is out here. We live just down the way.”
Shame like I’ve never felt before curdles my stomach, its spoiled, slimy fingers reaching up my face. I can’t reply. All I’m able to do is stare at this street and feel the guilt soak in.
This is how the poor in my kingdom’s capital lived. This is what they had to look forward to when they went home each night. They didn’t evenownthese homes. The city’s nobles rented them out, every building parceled off. Some of the streets were even owned by the crown.
How is it that I’ve been perched in a gilded castle, towering over these streets, without ever looking at what was truly here?
Because I didn’t want to see.
That’s the truth of it. I didn’t want to see because I didn’t want to care. Once you decide not to care, you can justify any amount of negligence. And that’s what this is.
Negligence.
It’s nailed into every dilapidated board and caught between the cracks of every broken stone. It’s nudged between the shattered windows and pieces of litter and the puddles of frozen filth. I’ve neglected my people so thoroughly that it’s no wonder they hated me.
To think, I came down from my castle in a gilded carriage with armored guards and pretended to care by passing out a few coins that cost me nothing, while they lived like this.
