I glance up as two Citadel officers in pristine white uniforms push through the crowd dragging a man between them. He’s young, arms flailing like he thinks they’ll listen.
“You can’t just keep Reassigning people for doing nothing!” he yells. “Gathering in a group isn’t a crime! You’ll regret this?—”
One of the officers clamps a hand over his mouth and the sound cuts off. They move fast, efficient, clinical, and within seconds, they’re gone, swallowed by the far end of the street.
But that’s all it takes.
The spice merchant steps out into the square, distracted, craning his neck for a better look.
Perfect.
I move fast, sliding my pack from my shoulder, fingers closing around the vials one by one. Would’ve been a hell of a lot easier with a little magic, but I don’t have that kind of control.I’d probably end up blowing the cart sky-high and me right along with it.
The last vial slides into place with a soft click.
But then?—
Eyes.
I feel them before I see them, a crawl across the back of my neck.
She stands behind the cart. A girl, maybe six, maybe seven. Too still. Too spotless. A blue velvet ribbon tying back perfect blonde curls. Her mouth’s parted. Watching. Not me, my hands.
Shit.
A tight, hard thud rises under my ribs. Threads twitch, magic stirs and for half a breath, I freeze. I could walk? Drop the pack, leave the vials behind and step away quiet, unseen. Or, god, shut her up somehow?
She doesn’t move, keeps watching, so I lift a finger to my lips. “Shhh.”
A frown, her small brows pulling across her forehead in confusion, uncertain but not afraid. Then her mother calls, one tug on the girl’s arm, and she turns. Just like that, she’s gone. Thank fuck.
My lungs finally let go, chest unclenching just enough to move. The pack’s still open and the distraction still holds—So I shift sideways, quick and easy, to the next cart, scanning for honeyberries—but I can’t see any. Not surprised, I snag two apples instead. One for me. One for Bren.
Not that it means anything. Just because I don’t like him like that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the effort he puts in. It’s basic courtesy?—
“Hey, stop!”
This time I don’t wait to see who saw me, just duck sideways, slipping behind a wide woman with an overflowing herb basket. Then I’m gone, swallowed by the crowd. Blend and vanish.
Thirty minuteslater and I’m back in the Outerlands, where the air tastes of soot, and just a hint of piss. Yep, someone’s definitely just tossed their toilet bucket out the window, and judging by the smell, I just walked right through it. God, this place stinks. But still, it’s familiar and it’s home.
A few more turns, and I’m there. An old door, cracked wood, rust around the handle. Basic and run-down, just like everything else out here. Three knocks, and the door slowly creaks open—just a crack at first—before flying wide.
“Thank the stars,” a tear-streaked woman says, grabbing my arm with both hands and yanking me inside before I can speak.
Guess I’m right on time.
The door closes behind us, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. It’s small.Cosymight be the word, if it weren’t so run-down. Wooden walls, low ceiling. Everything patched or fraying at the seams.
A small cough from the corner draws my eye, where a boy lies curled beneath a threadbare blanket, wheezing—skin too pale, lips cracked.
“Any better?” I ask, lips thin, nodding towards him.
Rhiann shakes her head slowly, worry etched into every wrinkle around her face. “Last night was rough, his fever spiked again. The local mender stopped by earlier, but—” Another wet, rattling cough cuts her off. It’s too weak. Too wrong.
My gut twists.Shit. I should’ve been faster, should’ve come yesterday. Maybe even the day before.
“Right. Well…” I say, throat tight, as I drop my pack, crouching down and pulling out the goods. Ten vials of bright yellow Spice. “I got something for you.”
