I released his manipulation slowly, maintaining only the slightest sway of power. I took advantage of my newly acquired armor. “I am to hand deliver a message to Guardian Corso. Would an accomplished Guardian such as yourself have the time to assist me inidentifying her?”
The man preened under the combination of my mágik and compliments. He gestured enthusiastically ahead. “Certainly. Guardian Corso is in First Cohort, Guardians of the Second Order. You can find her sparring at the front of her formation, just there at the far end of the field.”
I followed his pointed finger, eyes catching on the group he indicated, and nodded thoughtfully, squeezing my powers tightly around the man once more.
The Guardian’s head bobbed, a wide smile plastered across his face.
I left without another word, my mágik slipping away as I did. I followed the path along the outer edge of the field, remaining out of view of the higher ranked Guardians.
I found the woman I assumed to be Seren Corso just in time to see her slam the hilt of her sword into her opponent’s spine. She collapsed sickeningly fast, limbs sprawled and face in the dirt. Seren reached a hand out to assist the fallen woman.
Honorable, I thought.
A brief altercation passed between the two, shouts and hurt expressions exchanged on the other woman’s part. Seren remained facing away from me, and I could not make out her impression of the events. The woman stormed in one direction while Seren stood stock still. She eventually turned and broke from formation. As she moved, I finally caught my first glimpse of her face.
Seren was the woman from the garden.
Fuck.
I followed her at a distance, studying her face. Her dark hair was no longer loose, but neatly braided in such a way that the ends brushed against the top of her spine. I could not make out thecolor of her eyes from this distance, but it was clear that they were hardened in forced apathy. I forced myself not to remember the spark of gold that had lit them under the rising sun.
Seren slid her sword back into the sheath at her waist and paused, leaning her forehead against the cold stone of the wall before her.
I took in her shaky breaths, watching her draw her composure back in check. Her anger and pain lanced through me.
She straightened suddenly and began moving with purpose, back straight and face composed once more.
I shadowed her for the remainder of that day, taking note of her skills, her mealtimes, and her lack of contact with any other Guardians beyond what was strictly necessary.
For the first time in ages, I was unsure of how to proceed. She was hard for me to read, and the feeling was distinctly uncomfortable. I could feel her indifference, her erected mental walls, from across the crowd I kept between us. But I also knew what I had seen in the garden: a woman in anguish. I had become so used to the pliable minds of humans and the airy headed Rázuri nobility. I did not enjoy the feeling of unease that prickled through me in her presence.
When the sun began to set, washing the trees in a bath of twilight, I disappeared back to the woods where Equinox waited for me.
I made camp for the night, planning to return again in the morning.
Seren would not be an easy mark; I could ascertain that much already. I would need to find out what made her tick in order to gain her trust and steal her away to Acsilla.
These thoughts plagued me long into the night, and as I approached the space between wakefulness and dreams, I was reminded of the first time I met Prince Claudian. The moment that startedmy contract with the cruel royal and ended the peaceful days of childhood when my soul was still unmarred.
My sister was deeply unwell when Prince Claudian came into my life.
She lay coughing and feverish, blood splattering handkerchiefs stained with sickness. She needed medicine that we could not afford, far more food than we had, and water that was not contaminated. The aftermath of our father’s death left me in charge of protecting my mother and sister, and I was failing miserably.
Resources were neither plentiful nor inexpensive in the far reaches of Acsilla, and money was nearly impossible to come by. My mother and I had already traded everything we could afford to part with. Our dishes, jewelry, even my own bed had been exchanged at the market for flour or fish or herbal remedies we hoped might cure my sister.
I could not let Adina die. I could not lose another person that I loved, and so, on a desperate pitch black night, I stumbled upon the market square. I was determined to break into the apothecary and return home with every potential cure I could find.
The glass shattered with little effort beneath my wrapped knuckles.
I understood little of the various medicines stored in the shop, but my mother would know what to do if I only managed to get them to her.
My heart pounded a painful rhythm through my chest, stabbing at my sternum. Nervous hands fumbled the vials and pouches as I dropped them hastily in my pack.
The first and second cases lay bare before me, and I moved to sweep the contents of the shelves into the bag. The shaking in my muscles had grown tremulous, and my breaths came in ragged gasps.
I had never known fear like this. Fear for my sister’s life, for my own.
We had never been so desperate as to steal from our neighbors. I had never thought myself willing or able to stoop so low.
