My anger, which had been doing nothing but growing, suddenly exploded. “Do you know why you have this life, Milo? Because I was the one home when they came for you. I was home because I got a tattoo for YOUR mistake. This”—I motioned to myself— “could just as well have been you. You could have been the one living in a cell and beaten when youdon’t ‘read’ the right magic.’” I shook my head; I was getting off topic. “Your life might look fine now, Milo, but this war . . . it isn’t just going to stay at the front lines, and there is no option to remain neutral. You either fight with us, or stay here and eventually lose everything. Those are your only options.”
Milo narrowed his gaze, and I could feel his disbelief. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” I seethed. “Adis took you, Milo Potson, and discovered that you know magic. You are the descendant of the Seid his father purged ten years ago. I ran away and I am Runa now, but you no longer have anonymity.” I watched the color drain from his face. “You may think you are safe now, Milo, but mark my words, it is only a matter of time until Adis comes for you, and you’ll regret that you didn’t listen to me.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pressed into a thin line as he battled with his own anger.
The anger he wouldn’t even be able to foster if it hadn’t been for me.
“Fine,” I spat, not waiting for him to say anything else before spinning on my heel and running from the mill.
Milo was choosing to learn the hard way.
CHAPTER 33
When I ran from the mill, I neglected to consider the fact that I actually had nowhere to run. Gone were the days when I had a home. No one here really knew me—not even the slightest bit. They only knew me as a portion of Milo.
Milo, who wasn’t going to do anything for the war until the fight was at his doorstep and his perfect little life was threatened.
The perfect little life he had thanks tome.
Out of habit, or perhaps because I still had unrequited feelings for his son, I ended up leaning against the outside wall of the butcher’s. When I had first arrived, I had placed my hand on the door, intending to push it open, just to peruse, just for a glimpse of Roger. But then I realized it would be more embarrassing than anything else, to speak to him without a glance of recognition in his gaze. And it wasn’t like I had actual feelings for him—no, I just missed my old life. The simplicity of having a crush on the butcher’s son that I knew would go nowhere. But those days were gone, and it was time I accepted that my life had changed. So instead, I turned the corner, sliding down until myass hit the cold ground, pulling the corners of the cloak around me as if it could protect me from the lies and rejection of men.
“That was something.” Friar’s voice broke my self-pity party as she slid down next to me, matching my posture. “And I thought my brothers were bad.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You come from a big family?”
She shook her head. “Well, not really. I know in Ralheim most families don’t pass the one-child policy. But in Salheim, three is a common enough number.”
“But then their parents have to send away their children . . .”
Friar shrugged, not appearing upset in the least. “My brothers turned out okay, I think.”
I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall as I pinched my eyes shut.
“So . . . what are we doing here?” She craned her neck, taking in the alley next to the butcher’s. It was clean for an alley, surprisingly—not that I had spent much time in them prior to this moment. I’d gone to the market just to get what we couldn’t grow in our garden, then maybe take a quick peek at Roger before heading home. Nothing more.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around my knees and drawing them to my chest. “I don’t really have friends here. Well, not anymore.” I motioned to my body. “One of them works here. I thought maybe he could . . . then I thought better of it.” I sighed, acknowledging my own naivete. “I’d really thought Milo would join us and he could direct us to other friends who would want to help us.”
Friar pushed away from the wall, moving into a standing position before holding her hand out to me. “Well, you’re lucky I’m in the mood for something to eat. Come.”
My eyes widened as they settled on her outstretched hand. “You can’t mean . . .”
“I do. If he was really your friend, he would recognize you even now. Even if he doesn’t, he’s a man, and I’m sure he would give a pretty woman a minute.”
I grimaced. Growing up practically raised as a boy, I had never considered myself to be pretty, or even attractive. I had been so focused on hiding who I was I had never given it a thought as to whether or not I was?—
“I can hear you overthinking. You’re beautiful. Now, come on before my stomach consumes itself.”
I had to hand it to Friar, she certainly knew how to play on my tendency to feel guilty for making others wait on me. I rose from my seated position, much less smoothly than Friar had, taking a moment to brush the dirt from my pants before following her from the alleyway.
The street was busy, as the butcher was located in the central market, with the fruit seller stationed just next door, and the baker another door down from that. Across the way, were the clothing shops, their windows decked out in beautiful dresses and skirts that I had never let myself gaze at too long as a child. In the center of the two lines of shops was a sitting area surrounding a fountain. The fountain had long run dry—or perhaps it had stopped being repaired—and birds had made their nests on the top and middle bowls, which were out of reach of young children. The bottom level was filled with dirt and debris that seemed to only accumulate more each year.
The sun reflected off the light buildings at the same time a chill blew through. Ralheim was known for its cold, yet bright, dead seasons.
There wasn’t much more time to observe how things had changed in the few months I had been away, though, as Friar was already pushing open the door to the butcher.
“Hello,” she called out in greeting as she entered. From my position at her back, I observed that the shop was empty, other than for Roger, who was behind the counter, the sound of a knife being sharpened drifting from the back room.
