CHAPTER ONE
THE BOOK
ADELINE
“Thief! Someone stop that girl!”
Crap.My heart hammering, I run harder, clutching the apples to my chest as I weave through the narrow streets of the capital. People on their balconies lean over to see what the fuss is about. My shoes pound on the uneven cobbles as I take a right, then a left, trying to get my bearings and at the same time lose my pursuers.
There are two of them, if I’m not mistaken, big men, judging from their heavy steps. My slight stature gives me the advantage in this race as I rush ahead.
No time to even pause and stuff the apples into my cloth bag as I cross the bridge and run through the butcher district, the stench of spoiled meat and guts turning my stomach. The houses I pass are ramshackle and crumbling, filthy toddlers playing on the doorsteps, mangy cats and scrawny dogs hunting for scraps in the trash.
Nothing here would make you think that I’m in Siris, the famed fae capital of the Seventh World. These are the poor people’s quarters. The rich live higher up, on the slopes of hills, away from the stink of the river and the poor masses of lowlife fae and humans scrounging for a living on its banks.
The heavy steps behind me grow louder. My pursuers are relentless today. Usually, I lose them once I cross the river, but today they’ve decided to hound me.
My heart is booming inside my chest, and the stitch in my side burns as I burrow deeper into the underbelly of the city, racing through the cobbled streets and turning into the Warrens, where street urchins cower, looking at me with wide eyes as I dart by.
Damn these men and their insistence on following me. It was only three apples. You’d think I stole gold and gems; that I robbed them blind.
With a very unladylike curse, I vault over a broken fence surrounding a vegetable patch and race to climb out the other side, crossing a small yard and finding myself in another narrow street, empty and quiet. A stooped human grandmother is knitting in a doorway. She frowns at me as I pelt by, heading for the Burrows and home.
Warrens and Burrows. Names have power, and these turn us into small, frightened animals, hiding and scrounging in the dirt to survive.
All right, I think, slowing down. I’ve lost my pursuers. Can’t hear them behind me anymore. Finally, a relief. A respite.
You should never let your guard down, though, so I stop just long enough to put the apples into my cloth bag and draw a breath. My side burns something fierce.
I’m used to running. That’s the life of a thief, after all. But today has been brutal, after a night of nightmares and waking up to find that Brogan—my adoptive father—hasn’t gotten any better. Seeing the despair on my adoptive mother’s face hit me hard.
She doesn’t like me stealing, but they can’t afford food otherwise. After the accident, Brogan hasn’t been able to bringin any coin, and he needs fresh food to regain his strength if he’s ever to return to work.
I only wish I knew where my good-for-nothing brother has gone off to this time.
Soon enough, I’m running again. Dragons dance in the sky, high over the hills, draks and darakins. In the far distance, the sacred pillar supporting the sky gleams as it slowly rotates. Fluffy clouds travel across the shimmering sky. This hollow world is beautiful.
But while high up there it’s calm and majestic, down here, on the filthy cobbles, I’m risking my skin for food.
Up ahead is a little market square and I decide to risk crossing it as a shortcut. I haven’t eaten anything yet and the hollowness in my stomach is making me lightheaded. At least nobody seems to be following me anymore.
Bursting into the small square, I almost crash into a cart selling syrupy sweets. The aroma makes my empty stomach cramp. Swerving, swearing under my breath, I hurry between rickety market stalls, elbowing my way through the bustling crowd. Damn, I hadn’t realized it was market day today.
Well, all the better to conceal myself in, in case my delayed pursuers are still after me.
Determined to see the bright side, I keep moving, almost tripping over dogs begging for food and rats scurrying over the cobbles. The air is laced with the scent of wood smoke and sugar, pleasant, but the stench of urine and sewage wafts over from the side streets.
I’m almost at the other end of the square when I bump into someone. They stumble away, mumbling a curse, and I realize it’s a woman, dressed in the fashion of the fae in a long, flowing blue dress, her hood covering her face.
Before I can catch a glimpse of her face, she vanishes in the crowd, and that’s when I notice she has dropped a satchel.
“Wait!” I call out. “Lady, your bag! Hey!”
But she’s already gone.
Sleeping Gods.People can be so careless with their wealth. And this one looks expensive, a leather satchel with worked details on the flap.
I poke it with the tip of my shoe. On its own, it could bring in a silverling or two, which would be more than welcome. That much could buy food for days, even a new pair of shoes.
