Typically, there would be a third of this amount.
Did they enjoy living perilously, the rush of adrenaline that pumps your heart harder and makes you feel ten times more alive in that moment where danger lurks? Or did they love to travel and see the different kingdoms—despite the hazards of doing so? Perhaps they wanted to experience adventure, and they thought the Shifter Kingdom would be their best choice. Or, even gloomier, did they simply wish for death and decided this was the easiest way to accomplish it without doing it themselves?
The possibilities boggled my mind. Even the elves who appeared carefree in this group knew deep down they weren’t safe here. But here we all were, with our own agendas for braving the Shifter Kingdom.
I hoisted myself up when the more knowledgeable travelers stood. The rest of the elves took notice, too—paying more attention to their surroundings than they were truly letting on. I hooked the strap of my bag over my head, making it cross over my chest, so it was harder for anyone to steal from me. Shifter or elf, there were thieves among all of us—including me.
“The market opens soon,” an elf with salmon-colored hair stated, brushing leaves off her green skirt. “If we leave now, we will miss the heavier traffic. Trust me. We want that.”
No one argued.
We followed the muddiest elves out of the sham of protection that the forest provided and onto the blatant open threat of the cobblestone street to Mount Hawthorne. I tried not to let my eyes widen too far with curiosity, barely managing to keep my gawking at the shifter capital to a not-too-obvious level. I’d flown over Mount Hawthorne plenty with Father, as he’d shown me the kingdoms at an early age, but from this level, the city built into the rock of the mountain, continuing to rise above you, showing fierce architecture with every step closer, King Athon’s capital city wasintimidating.
Animal sculptures were carved in the large boulders with the beasts’ heads higher than the trees, their arms extended over the cobblestone street, and sharp claws curled down to attack travelers. Ugly snarls twisted their lips with their teeth bared. There were no tigers that I could see, but then, my bloody soul mate was the only tiger shifter to be born in history—the man was just problematic. Issues followed him around, and now, I had to deal with those, too.
Taverns and inns were the first buildings we passed. Veiled streets curved between them, only viewable from a certain angle and then gone again the next moment, the forest incorporated into the design. Vines and fauna and trees assisted in disguising certain entrances the farther we trudged into the city and up the inclined street—now many streets branching off one another. Mount Hawthorne would be a brute of a city to attack, the shifters who lived here with the apparent advantage to maim all who entered with bad intentions.
I narrowed my eyes at the thought, shoving aside my never-ending curiosity of the unknowns, and started to pay better attention.
I scanned the secret alleys and the tops of roof edges and the partially curtained windows of stone dual-living buildings. A flash of bold orange appeared every so often, the uniforms of the Shifter Kingdom guards peeking from dark crevices when they shifted positions on their feet to watch the group of elves roaming their capital—clearly not lax in their duties, but advertising to anyone looking closely enough that they were there and not to make trouble.
A chilling shiver ran down my spine when we passed a group of early-rising shifters. They were grouped in a circle. Adults were on the outside cheering and shouting and holding coin up into the air. Two young teenagers fought in the middle of the revelry, their bodies splattered with blood and brutish growls erupting from their throats.
My regard wouldn’t budge as my group moved on.
I stopped in my tracks, horrified by the scene.
I clenched my fists and held my breath as one of the children went down. His opponent slammed her foot onto his chest hard enough to break bone and smirked in his face. He waved his hands in surrender and then took a helping hand up from his opponent. They slapped each other on their backs and received…hugs…from the adults, having their hair ruffled on top of their heads and kisses placed on their foreheads while money was exchanged between the gamblers. The alpha victor was clearly the brown-haired girl, but she was afforded less attention and appeared fine with that, walking away with a proud strut—a few coins in her own pocket. The bloodied black-haired loser beckoned to a lone teenage shifter that passed by me, and a new fight and shouting started.
I couldn’t…process this. I didn’t understand.
Not even when an adult yanked the newcomer off the previous loser—seemingly having done something they thought was wrong—and proceeded to lecture the kid before they started the combat all over again. More coins passed between hands. Shifter guards were standing not ten feet away, and they weren’t stopping this. Vague smiles of affection graced their features while they kept glancing in my direction with quick, menacing scowls.
Lowering my brows over my emerald eyes, I swallowed hard. I knew training. I understood training. But this was something far more ruthless, a way of life for them, aggression they enjoyed and took immense pleasure in, licking blood and tears from their fingers and charging back in for more. I could not wrap my brain around it.
Father and I sparred until we were breathless, but afterward, we’d have a spot of tea and talk about our plans for the day. This appeared tobethe shifters’ plans for the day. Theylivedto fight—not fought to live. Their brains worked in a way I’d never know.
I jerked my attention away from the scene.
My mind was befuddled and off-kilter by the violence.
Oh Fae. I’d lost my group somewhere.
I snapped my head in every direction, my eyes searching.
Where in the Fae fuck had they gone?
My group had vanished entirely from view.
A shifter guard took pity on me, sighing so profoundly that his bold, orange uniform almost split down the center of his broad chest, and he pointed to the left. “That way. You’d better hurry before the real fun begins out here.”
I dashed on quick feet, heading in the direction he’d indicated, not wholly understanding his words—because how could it get worse than children trying to kill each other for fun? With everyone reveling in it? Except my survival instinct completely understood him and made memove. My hands shook with nerves, and my elven emerald eyes stood out amongst all the solid shifter eyes—no white showing. I pulled my hood farther over my head and hid my ears, keeping my head tucked down as the streets began to fill.
A small girl tried to pickpocket my bag while I squeezed between a street vendor selling warm bread and a man doing a one-finger handstand, showing off for his friends nearby. I yanked my bag closer and ticked my finger at the girl. When she saw my eyes, she stomped on my left foot and fled, racing off in the opposite direction.
“Ow! Fae dammit all,” I griped quietly. I limped through the streets until my foot healed—she’d pounded my foot hard. She may have been waist-high, but she was a shifter with the innate strength born to them. I peered left and right, still not finding my elven group. Only more cobblestone streets deviating off on either side between the bustling stone and wooden trade buildings.
My attention snagged on a caster—an outsider like me here—leaning against a window and smoking a peculiarly scented cigar. I hurried over to her, and asked, “I’m so sorry to intrude, but do you know where the elf merchants’ stands are?”
