Ericen’s guards didn’t pay him any attention. The prince ignored them equally, investigating a pair of slim daggers with tiny sapphires set into the hilt. I eyed the weapons. What would happen if I plunged one into Ericen? Nowhere fatal, just somewhere very painful.
If you so much as touch me, if you push me too far…
The words echoed in the hollow space inside me, and I longed to run from them, to hide. The sensation of angry, questioning eyes pressed in on me from all directions. I tried to meet them, but every black stare that gazed back replaced my emptiness with a white-hot weight.
My horse shifted nervously underneath me, whinnying. Smiths and sellers glared at the Illucians with open hostility, more than one with a hand on the hilt of a weapon. A Rhodairen man to Ericen’s left leaned to a woman beside him, muttering. His expression looked wrong.
A sharp clatter rang out. My gaze snapped to a nearby stand, where one of Ericen’s guards had carelessly tossed a dagger onto the table, causing it to topple off. “Worthless,” the guard said.
A scowl broke across the smith’s face. “Pick it up,” she said.
The guard snorted and turned away. The smith’s hand shot out fast as lightning, seizing his arm. A dagger shone in her other hand.
The action rippled through the crowd, everyone from sellers to patrons to the faces watching from the shadows going still. A space cleared around the two. Hands went to weapons. The air evaporated. In the heat and dust, my guards moved closer as a hush descended.
A flicker of blue, and Ericen shattered the stillness. He shot forward, breaking the woman’s hold and shoving his guard back a step all before I even considered intervening. The smith switched her hold on the dagger, and Ericen seized the hilt of his guard’s sword from behind, unsheathing it halfway.
“Stop!” My voice erupted, and I regretted the word instantly. The last thing I wanted to do was tell my people not to hurt an Illucian, but a showdown between elite Illucian soldiers and the weapons masters of Rhodaire would end bloodily.
For a breath, no one moved. Then slowly, the smith lowered her dagger and set it on the table. Her brown eyes never left mine. “Your Highness.” She bowed.
Only once her hand returned to her side did Ericen sheathe his guard’s sword.
“We should go,” I croaked, no longer looking at the smith, at anyone.
Ericen didn’t argue, the thick silence and dark looks probably enough to convince him. He swung back onto his horse in one fluid motion. “We’re leaving,” he said to his guards.
They didn’t acknowledge him, already at the next table as if nothing had happened.
Ericen’s face flushed. “Now.”
One of them looked back, frowning. He muttered something to the other guard, then they both mounted, and we set off. The feeling of eyes on my back dug in like claws, and I kicked my horse into a trot. I wanted to tell myself their anger and resentment was for the Illucians, but not all of it was. It was for me, for my abandonment, for my uselessness.
My throat tightened, and I urged my horse on. The smith’s dark eyes seared in my mind, burning with accusation.
Coward.
I kicked my horse into a canter, breaking away from the group as the road opened onto a broad street packed with merchant carts and people. My guards yelled, but I didn’t slow. The crowd parted, and I reined in my horse. Nearly leaping from my saddle, I wove through the vendors and shoppers and ducked into the privacy of a nearby alley, collapsing against the wall.
Anxiety writhed in my stomach. Pain, fear, anger—they infected every wing. Infected me. Where did we even begin to fix things? One crow might protect us from war, but what about the decay spreading from within?
Something prickled at the back of my neck. I pushed off the wall, turning, and nearly slammed straight into someone. I stepped back, hands raised, and found Ericen staring back at me with a smirk.
“You ran off,” he mused. “Your poor guards are frantic.” His gaze lifted over my shoulder. “Something interesting about this particular alley?”
“Anything’s more interesting than talking to you.” Before he could respond, I marched back into the crowd. The cool air wafting off the canal chilled my hot skin, and I made straight for a nearby House Cyro cart, where I paid for an orange cake in an attempt to pretend I’d simply been in a hurry to get dessert. Except my fingers fumbled the coins, and I gave the vendor a silver talon instead of copper, and I nearly dropped the cloth-wrapped bundle in my attempt to pocket it.
I forced in breath after breath, trying and failing to fight away my anxiety, and moved to the edge of the canal. Except the murky water, once kept pure and glistening by water crows, reminded me of why I’d bolted into the alley to begin with.
Ericen appeared like a specter beside me. I stiffened. He moved so soundlessly.
“You’re shaking. Is something the matter, Princess?”
Before I could respond, footsteps echoed from behind, and I faced my guards as they emerged from the crowd panting and flushed. I winced.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, withdrawing the orange cake from my pocket. “I saw the vendor, and there wasn’t a line, and that never happens, so…” I trailed off when I caught Ericen’s smile. As if to say I could lie, but only because he let me.
The guards straightened, the one in the lead bowing his head. “Of course, Your Highness. Please just give us warning next time.”
