Gods, I hope.I think to myself, but there’s a pang of uncertainty in my chest. It’s not thatno onewould try to look for or send someone after me. It’s whether or not anyone was left alive to even make that order. I don’t know what Eiser and Baelor are up to, and it’s not as though Ezra kept me politically informed during our lovely little escapade.
“If they’re alive. Then sure, someone is probably looking for me.” Devlen’s eyes widen more, and he takes a step into Caz. I choke down another swig of the water, my fingers flexing around the cup.
“Why don’t you want people knowing that you're here?” Caz cuts in, his tone a touch accusatory.
“How aware are the people of Sabel of the happenings outside of your territory?” Neither of them answers past a grunt of uncertainty coming from Devlen, and I set the cup down. “Does the name King Baelor do anything for you?”
“We know he’d be foolish to come after Suram.”
Ha.I bob my head up and down, “he’s foolish, alright. The man’s already invaded four kingdoms outside of his own.” I say, cocking my head at them, while Caz places a possessive hand on Devlen’s shoulder. “Suram will be on his chopping block at some point.”
His eyes roll, “so you don’t want us to take you to the Consulate because… you’re afraid of alerting this King Baelor?”
“I amnotafraid of Baelor.” The two of them raise their brows at me, and I blow out a frustrated breath. “You really don’t understand the gravity of what’s going on, do you?”
“We don’t pay much attention to the drama of Wielders.” Caz snaps.
I smile, my finger circling the edge of the glass. “See, that’s the thing. Baelor has no Wield. Hadar is a Wieldless kingdom just like yours, as was Peverell, as was Mellant. Still think you’re safe?”
Their faces pale, and their mouths press into firm lines. “But my issue doesn’t truly lie with Baelor, though he certainly is annoying. My issue, unfortunately, lies with Vellar. If I go to your Consulate, I’ll have no idea what loyalty they’ll have to offer me. Whether or not they’ll choose to sympathize with King Eise, I’ve recently made him a widower.”
The two of them sputter for words, and Devlen mentions that he needs to sit down. “This is why we don’t bring home strays.” Caz gripes, storming away.
“Caz–”
He whirls on his heel, face beet red. “You’ve brought a murderer home!”
“If it helps – she deserved it.”
Devlen throws me an incredulous look, and I clamp my lips together.
“We leave now. I want heroutof our home.” He throws his hand out, pointing at the door before, before disappearing again down the hall. Devlen gives me a weak smile that resembles more of a grimace than anything before standing up and trailing after him.
When the two of them returned, they returned with a few packs on their shoulders. Caz doesn’t acknowledge me, but Devlen waves me on in front of him.
Sandwiched between them, we walk outside. The alleyway they live in isn’t very packed, but I can already hear the noise coming from the streets around us. The buzzing of voices, the horseless wagons, and the overall noise of a bustling city have my nerves shot.
A loud drumming above our heads has my head snapping up and my eyes squinting against the sun. Coasting over the buildings is an odd flying object, made of the same patchwork metal of the architecture around us. “What is that?” I breathe.
“Hot airships. Keep moving.”
“Air…ships?” I mutter to myself.Should have paid better attention to my tutors. The thought muses as I glance up again in awe at the contraption. I guess these Wieldless have a few secrets of their own.
The alley spills us out into the swarm of people, and I feel Devlen’s calloused hand lock around the crook of my elbow. Instinctively, I flinch at the contact and try to take back my arm, but he only tightens his hold, leaning in. “You’re going to have to stay with me. The streets can be madness.” Begrudgingly, I let him keep a handle on my arm and guide me through the crowd.
The sharp smell of salt floats through the air, mingling with a myriad of other scents the further we wind down the road, and as if Devlen can hear my thoughts, he turns and says. “Ocean.”
“Ocean?” I ask.
He nods. “We’re on the portside of Sabel. We have at least a day’s worth of travel through the city to get you to the western desert side.”
Wonderful.
He wasn’t kidding. Most of the day we spent maneuvering to and from multiple busy “bazaars” as I learned they were called. And finally, at the crest of dusk, Caz dragged us away from the crowds and into an unassuming building.
I held my breath until I realized that it was a small inn.
Had it been another abandoned structure, I was going to throw a fit.
