We venture deeper into the outskirts of the Frael Forest to a place called Duskridge Hollow: a hidden trading post Kael knows. It’s not a safe place, but it’s our best chance to find horses.
Duskridge Hollow is a grimy, forgotten corner of the realm. It is nothing more than a cluster of crooked wooden structures and sagging tents pitched in a clearing. The air is thick with the tang of sweat, leather, and cheap alcohol. Traders and scavengers linger in doorways and around makeshift stalls, their eyes glinting with suspicion and thinly veiled hunger. The entire place smells like desperation,and yet, as I step into its shadowy heart, a thrill pulses through me.
I have been to plenty of places I shouldn’t have, but never this far from the slums. The realization that I am no longer in Virellin unfurls in my chest like the first breath of clean air after a storm. It’s disconcerting but liberating. I shouldn’t feel this way—not with eyes watching our every move and hands resting too casually on weapons, but I can’t help it.
Kael strides ahead like he owns the place, his confidence carving a path through the wary stares. He leads us to the far end of the settlement, where a sagging stable leans precariously against a cluster of trees. A surly man with a scar cleaved through his cheek steps out of the shadows, one eye clouded and sightless. The other gleams with a calculation that makes my skin crawl.
“Horses ain’t cheap,” the man growls, his voice as rough as gravel. His gaze sweeps over us, lingering on our threadbare clothes and empty hands. “And you don’t look like you’ve got anything worth trading.”
Kael steps forward, his tone calm but firm. “We’re not here to waste your time. We need five horses strong enough to handle the Frael Forest.”
The man barks a laugh, a harsh sound that grates on my nerves. “Five? You’ve got big dreams for people who can’t even afford new clothes.” He gestures at Seren, Ronyn, and me with a sneer before turning back to Kael. But when his gaze lands on Kael’s well-fitted leathers, polished and clearly of high quality, his expression flickers with something like caution.
Kael’s presence seems to expand, his posture unyielding. Therion stands just behind him, a silent force that makes the man take half a step back.
“We can pay,” Kael says. “Or we can trade.”
The man raises a sceptical eyebrow, his good eye narrowing. “What’ve you got? Coin is no use around here. It holds no value. Trade is our currency. So what is it? Food? Weapons? A fucking miracle?”
We pool our belongings, placing them in a sad little pile at theman’s feet—Ronyn’s spare knife, a few arrows from his quiver, and some of our dried provisions. The man doesn’t even try to hide his disdain as he kicks at the pile with the toe of his boot.
“This won’t even get you a mule,” he says, his voice dripping with scorn.
Kael’s jaw tightens, the tension in his shoulders visible. “What do you want?”
The man’s one good eye narrows as he points a gnarled finger at Kael’s swords strapped across his back, the steel gleaming faintly in the murky light. “Those.”
Kael’s hand moves instinctively to the sword at his hip, his hands curling around the hilt as if he’s about to cut down the man for simply asking. “They’re not on offer,” he says coldly, his voice a low growl.
“Then you’ve got nothing I want,” the man snaps, turning away with a shrug. “Come back when you’re worth my time.”
Fuck. We need this trade. There is no way we’ll make it without horses. I can sense that One Eye wants to deal—his greed is written all over his face. He’s looking for something unique, something he can boast about. That’s why he wants Kael’s swords.
I hesitate, my fingers brushing the fabric of my tunic over my left biceps. My mother’s marriage cuff—a delicate piece of beaten silver etched with intricate designs. It is the last remnant of a life I barely remember. I’ve worn it every day since I was a child, its weight a constant reminder of her love, her defiance. To give it up feels like cutting away the last tether to her memory.
My chest tightens as I unclasp it, its cool weight slipping from my arm. Giving it up feels like giving upher. But the living matter more than the dead.
I pull down the shoulder of my tunic, exposing bare skin, my mark mercifully lying dormant. For a moment, I feel Kael’s gaze dart to my shoulder, lingering. It’s subtle, but I catch it in the periphery of my vision—his eyes tracing the exposed curve of my skin before flicking to the cuff in my hand. Heat rises to my cheeks, but I don’t lower my arm.
I hold the cuff out, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “Will this do?”
The man’s good eye narrows as he takes the cuff, turning it over in his hands like it’s a priceless treasure. His thumb drags across the intricate etchings, a spark of recognition flickers in his face. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, consumed by the cold greed that twists his features.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Kael’s reaction. His jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck taut with restraint. His fists curl at his sides, and he takes a deliberate half-step forward, as if he’s about to snatch the cuff back. His gaze locks on to me, burning with unspoken words—protest, frustration, or something else entirely.
“Elyssara—,” he warns, but I cut him off.
“It’s already done,” I snap, dismissing him.
“For this... three horses. No more,” One Eye says, his voice as casual as if we were bartering for scraps.
Ronyn stiffens beside me, his indignation palpable. “Three? There are five of us!”
The man shrugs, tucking the cuff into his pocket with infuriating ease. “It’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”
Kael’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “We’ll take them.”
We haggled longer than I thought possible, wringing two extra water skins and a small bundle of dried meat from One Eye in exchange for my mother’s marriage cuff. It wasn’t a fair trade—nothing about it was—but life isn’t fair. I can’t cling to the past at the cost of our future.
