It was barely midday. I'd been traveling for hours, pushing through the phasing, the exhaustion, the bone-deep drain of magic, and I wasn’t even in the heart of Galaythia.
I was far away from Vyrenth Hollow but not far enough for it to count.
Disappointment squeezed my insides. I'd expected to be farther.Muchfarther.
Damn it, at this rate, how long would it take me to reach the border? If I even made it that far.
And I couldn't keep going like this.
I needed food. Rest. A moment to pull myself together before I collapsed in the middle of nowhere and made this escape completely pointless.
The village would have to do.
I pushed off from the tree and forced myself forward, one foot in front of the other, until the dirt path gave way to smooth cobblestones.
The village unfolded around me—small but alive in a way the mortal lands never were.
Fae moved through the streets with purpose, their movements fluid and unhurried.
It fascinated me to see so many. I’d been around Wolfe and the others for days, but this was different. And they were all so…normal. Regular people going about their day-to-day activities, not tattooed warriors who guarded the kingdom.
Children darted between stalls, laughing. It was almost soothing to watch them. A blacksmith's hammer rang out in steady rhythm from somewhere nearby.
A market sat across the road with colorful awnings stretched over wooden stalls packed with goods. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread drifted toward me, and hunger my stomach twisted. I crossed the street, deciding to follow the scent.
Voices rose around me as I wove through the crowd, vendors calling out, competing for attention.
"Fine jewelry, Miss! Charms blessed by the old magic!"
"Silks from the southern provinces, soft as starlight!"
"Spices, potions, rare herbs?—"
One voice cut through the others, sharper, more direct.
"My Lady."
I turned.
A weathered Fae male stood behind a stall filled with leather goods and travel supplies. His eyes flicked to my hair. The vivid red color must have caught the afternoon sun like flame. And it was also identifiable. Every mage in Galaythia knew that red hair was linked to mages from the Ravenwood.
"Looking for something specific?" he asked, his tone polite but assessing.
I glanced at the water skins and travel cloaks displayed across his stall, then shook my head. "Just looking."
I needed food more than supplies right now.
A few hours ago, when I’d stopped for a break, I’d traded a bracelet I’d taken from my room and gotten fifty pieces of silver. I needed the money to last for more important things.
A tavern across the street caught my attention. Set back from the market, it looked like it didn't quite belong.
The building looked rough: timber beams darkened with age, windows clouded with grime, the kind of place that had seen too many fights and not enough repairs. Dim lantern light flickered behind the windows, and even from the street I could hear the low rumble of men cursing with the foulest language inside.
Unwelcoming didn't begin to cover it. But then the wind shifted, and the aroma of delicious food hit me again.
Roasted meat. Bread. And something rich and herby that made my mouth water and think of Grandmother’s meat stew. The smell was coming from the tavern.
Hunger won, and I made my way to the tavern.
