“I am,” I said. Inquiring further would draw suspicion.
“May the Morai see fit to snap your first thread,” she said somberly, collecting the coins into her box.
The sound of clinking metal echoed down the road. Focusing, I stepped back and looked outside.
A pair of guards strode into the shop, dressed in silver armor adorned with purple wings. Slamming her coffer shut, the shopkeeper rose to meet them.
Tax collectors, most likely. Slipping the necklace into my bag, I ducked my head and walked past them.
I should’ve walked away, but I stopped a pace outside the shop’s door. Twisting my neck, I watched the scene behind me play out.
The heated emotions bristled in the shop with every breath. One guard was angry. The other felt deep reluctance and sympathy.
Ah. She couldn’t pay what they asked. And this was not the first time she’d been late on payment.
She wrung her hands together, resigned. Resigned to her lot in life. To the punishment she’d receive.
Someone slammed into my shoulder, throwing me to the side. Wincing as pain reverberated through my broken arm, I gasped when I recognized the young man charging into the store.
Light brown skin and hair, dressed in a ragged tunic. This was the boy from the tavern.
He pulled a dagger from his belt and lunged at the taller of the guards. The blade slipped into the gap beneath the man’s shoulder plates, spilling crimson liquid across the floor.
Yanking his dagger loose, the boy turned on his heel and ran.
Touching his chest, the guard jerked forward in surprise, notquite registering that he’d been attacked.
His fellow noticed the blood coating his toga and grabbed him before he crashed to the ground.
The shopkeeper locked eyes with me. She was not afraid. There was a tightness in her eyes—she’d seen this many times before.
Backing away, I bumped into Aethra. “Did you see that?” She hissed.
Glancing around, I searched for the boy, but he’d disappeared into the crowd.
“It was him,” Aethra whispered, grabbing my wrist. “Ainwir.”
“Ainwir?” I repeated, looking around. “Where?”
“With the boy. Telling him to strike!” She tugged me down the road. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
Seth burst from the crowd behind us and grabbed Aethra by the waist. “What are you doing?” He hissed. “They’ll think we’re the insurgents.”
Eyes widening, Aethra’s mouth fell slack. She’d just realized something.
‘Ainwir would have made the perfect insurgent,’ she thought. ‘He’s really here.’
Seth dragged Aethra to the side of the road, cursing under his breath. “Down.Now.”
Commotion erupted behind us. People ran every which way, pressing themselves against storefronts and cowering beneath awnings. Cerys and Percy hurried from their alley and dropped to their knees.
The Oracle herself pressed her forehead to the dirt. Who could possibly be approaching?
I knelt beside Aethra, keeping one eye on the road.
Ebony-clad knights marched in perfect order down the road, crimson capes flowing behind them. Vultures crowned their helms—Hades Knights.
A familiar man walked at their head, marked by his fur-lined cloak—Commander Aeacus. His scarlet lion marched at his side, dripping blood across the road.
