His auburn eyes, flecked with gold like sunset embers, pin me in place. A profound, captivating depth, like centuries of wisdom, dwells within them.How old is this man?
“There is much to be wary of, but the C’elen hold the true power in these lands.” He stomps his staff on the earth for emphasis. “And the C’elen,” he says, “cannot lie.But”—he holds up a finger—“they are experts at twisting truths. Never forget that.”
A knot forms in my belly. “Are you one of them?”
“I... am an ealdorman,” he says, raising his staff again, as if that should explain it.
I open my mouth to ask what an ealdorman is, but he chooses that moment to stick his tongue out, gazing toward the sky.
“We will have rain.” He nods to himself. “Come now. Let us proceed before it gets too bad.”
I frown up at the blue sky. Really?
When I don’t immediately move, he begins shepherding me down the path. “If you are to make it in time for Sa’mahta, you better start to move those pretty feet of yours.” Eyeing the worn-out shoes peeking out from under my long skirts, he adds, “Though I do admit your choice of shoes could use an upgrade.” Before I’ve had a chance to reply, he thrusts his small bag of nuts into my face. “Want some?”
I frown down at the small paper bag, somehow still full of nuts. How is that even possible? He’s been munching on it for bells.
“No, thank you,” I say as I fall into step behind him. I sigh. This will be a long walk.
chapter ten
“THERE YOU HAVE IT,” ERO says with a flourish and a bow. “Bowen, also known as the Red City.”
I step in front of him to better take in the city. From our vantage point atop a hillside, the Tiene cascading down the deep red rocks of the mountain, it’s easy to understand why it’s called the Red City. Nestled amidst rolling hills and bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun is a city entirely crafted from warm, red-colored clay. It holds a timeless beauty, as if it has been sculpted from the very earth itself.
The city is at least ten times the size of Bronich, and although the way it stretches out in every direction is impressive, that’s not what catches my attention. No, what truly astonishes me is the vast expanse of water at the city’s edge, the endless blue stretching on and on, all the way to the horizon. A myriad of different-size boats bobs gently against the shore.
“That’s the largest body of water I’ve ever seen,” I say to Ero, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop myself. I wait for him toutter another snide remark about my ignorance, but to my surprise, he remains silent. I turn around, but he is nowhere to be found. With a frown, I scan the open space. Although I have a clear view in all directions, there’s no trace of him. No footprints on the soft earth. No bent grass signaling someone walked there. Where did he go? I stare toward the tree line. Being as stealthy as a warrior, he could easily have retraced his own steps and vanished while I was distracted. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he did just that.
Losing the cryptic old man isn’t all that upsetting, so I turn my attention back toward the city. The terra-cotta rooftops shimmer in the sunlight, the last rays casting a warm, inviting glow over the city, and at its center square, they’re in the process of raising a large pole decorated with leaves and pretty ribbons. Excitement leaps in my chest. It must be decorations for the festival Ero mentioned. Despite never having attended a festival before, Ero’s descriptions of it have made me eager to see it firsthand. I decide that’s where I’ll go.
I take my time, descending the numerous small steps carved into the mountain, careful not to slip. I’ve counted 422 stairs as I step down onto the wide cobblestone street. Weaving my way through streets and alleyways in the general direction of the square, I soak in the city’s atmosphere. Beautiful intricately carved buildings stand along wide cobblestone streets, and although the walls are weathered, bearing witness to the passage of time, they are all well taken care of. There isn’t a single trace of the rot and decay I was so used to in Bronich. Here, every home is neatly kept, most of them with small garden patches in front, adorned with vibrant flowers and trees, adding a touch of serenity to the bustling streets. And instead of urine and mule dung, the city smells of flowers and baked bread. Still, what stands out the most to me is the people. Reans and humans alike, they look... happy. There’s laughter. Music even. And some are dancing. All of which are considered the greatest of sins in Bronich.
Although the city holds a mix of both Reans and humans—I count approximately one human for every four Reans—I chooseto keep to the sides of the street, not wanting to draw attention to myself. It is an impossible task, however. With my dark dress buttoned to my chin and gloves covering me to my fingertips, I stand out, even in a crowd as diverse as this. Now that I’m here, I feel foolish for worrying so much about my hair being uncovered—even after Ero ensured me that it was fine. I notice now that he was right. There are some who cover their hair, but most don’t. And everyone is wearing bright, colorful clothing, many sporting short sleeves and skirts with splits so long I’m constantly blushing. I cringe inside when a gust of wind grabs hold of the bright red skirts of a lady walking past, revealing one of her long, toned legs, but she doesn’t even notice. Keeping my gaze on the cobblestones, I hurry down the street. Llyr was right when he said Bronich is a different world entirely.
I arrive at the square at the exact moment dusk falls upon the city. The setting sun’s red glow gives the illusion that the clay buildings surrounding the square are ablaze, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. Reans and humans alike are headed toward one of the many taverns located around the square, and I decide to follow.
Now that I’m aware what to look for, it’s easy to tell the Reans from the humans. The Rean women are around my size, but the men arehuge, around seven feet or more, and I realize both Llyr and Ero, though tall for humans, are on the shorter end by Rean standards. There is no way these men could have hidden in Bronich the way Llyr did, and I find it amusing how tiny the human men are next to some of them. What truly set the Reans apart from the humans, though, is their agility and grace. It is easy to tell, even at a great distance, if it’s a Rean or a human coming down the street toward me. And—although the people here look healthy—the Reans have a vibrant glow to them I have yet to see on any human.
Making sure I still have my coin purse, I pull open the door to the tavern. The space is warm and crowded, filled with a sense of camaraderie and lightheartedness that is entirely new to me. Casting a quick glance around, I notice how soft orbs of light float near the darkwooden beams. I blink.Magic. I debate whether or not to close the door and move on when a whiff of roasted meat reaches my nose and I step inside.
I navigate between tables packed with Reans and humans alike—some laughing over mugs of ale, others drinking from crystal jars that look to contain some sort of pale lavender colored wine, others leaning in close for conversation. Noticing how I’m gawking, I snap my mouth shut. How can people and places be so wildly different?
A performance is about to start, and I hurry toward the only available chair I can see—a worn wooden seat at a small table in the corner near a massive stone fireplace.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” I ask the Rean couple occupying the two other chairs at the table. While I would much prefer to sit in company with humans, this will have to do.
“Of course,” the woman says with a genuine smile that reveals her small canines. She pulls her mane of pale pink hair over one shoulder, revealing a pointed ear. “I’m Seniia, and the silent one in the corner, who doesn’t have manners enough to introduce himself, is Vilder.”
He smirks at her and gives me a curt nod.
“I’m Laïna,” I say as I slide onto the chair. “Thanks for letting me sit here. I hope I don’t intrude on you and your husband.” I give Seniia an apologetic smile.
Vilder chokes on his beer, and Seniia throws her head back in a way that makes her powder-pink hair cascade down her back in waves. It’s the most beautiful laughter I’ve ever heard. It sounds like freedom.
“Absolutely not,” she declares, shaking her head. “Although I’m certain he wouldn’t object to having me in his bed,” she adds with a pointed look toward him, her remark causing him to roll his eyes at her.
I can’t help the heat that creeps into my cheeks at the insinuation, and it makes her laugh even harder. That’s simply unheard of, isn’t it?
