“To see if the rumors are true,” she answers calmly. “To see what the Ezorans are truly capable of.”
Neither of us utters another word as the scenery changes. The houses on the city’s outskirts are soon at our backs. We abandon them for wilder land where everything flanking the path is green and growing at first, but as we travel farther north, the riot of color usually found in forests and meadows gives way to barren land. It’s as if someone has leached the color from every flower and tree, and even from the sky. When I run my fingers over a low-hanging branch and they come away coated in fine gray powder, I realize it’s ash. The Ezorans carelessly set fire to so much here, all they left is a memory of a place, an echo of the life that used to color this now-muted land.
The road ends just after we crest a large hill. There’s a smaller footpath from here onward, leading down the hill into a valley where a great many soldiers—more armed men and women than I’ve ever seen—march in small groups toward what must be the kingdom’s northern border, hidden by more hills. Other soldiers remain in the valley, bustling in and out of tents that have been propped up amidst the blackened foundations of farmers’ cabins, perhaps tending to their wounded.
Deeper gray stains the horizon as far as I can see. If I didn’t know it was morning, I wouldn’t be able to tell. Day and night don’t seem to exist in this place anymore.
Azelie climbs down from the driver’s seat, and I follow her out of the cart with Nipper.
She makes no movement toward the footpath—I doubt civilians are allowed to be as close as we are—but instead stands in silence looking down into the valley, her arms crossed, her hardened expression never wavering.
“So many dead,” she whispers at last. “And all the poor flowers and orchards... who knows if they’ll recover?”
Her words pull me back to another valley, one scarred by fire and blood, where Meredy and I witnessed the aftermath of a Shade attack.
The devastation here is just as bad—perhaps worse, knowing who the culprits were. I expect senseless cruelty and violence from Shades, after all. That’s what monsters do. So when humans inflict just as much damage... I guess that makes them monsters, too. The grim sight before us proves the Ezorans are a force to be feared, to be met with blades.Notcreatures to be reasoned with.
VII
“So, what do you think?” Azelie’s eyes gleam in the early afternoon sun as she slows the horses in front of a stable across from one end of the market. Ever since we returned to the city’s outskirts, she’s been her usual, bubbly self. “This place claims to be the world’s largest flower market. I don’t know if it’s true, but it has plenty of rare plants.”
While Azelie talks to the stable girl, I lead Nipper out of the cart, onto the worn stone street, and take my first good look around.
The market occupies several city blocks, stretching south from the stable as far as I can see. Vendors are arranged under tents with colorful roofs and open siding to better allow the throngs of basket-carrying shoppers to move about. Flowers of every shape, size, and color, many that I don’t recognize, hang from baskets and cover display tables. There are plenty of herbs and even some vegetables for sale, too.
As the breeze shifts, the scent of the place finally hits me: like diving nose-first into a fragrant rosebush. Sure, there’s a faintundercurrent of hay and musk from the stable, and a hint of whatever Nipper smells like—which definitely isn’t flowers—but there’s no question that people come here to be immersed in a giant garden that’s all for sale.
Meredy would love this place. If she were with us, she’d already be across the street, filling up a basket, buying flower crowns, and petting every cat and dog in sight.
Turning away from Azelie so she can’t see the hurt in my eyes, I spot several flyers tacked to the side of the stable and hurry over for a closer look.
IF YOU SEE ME, CONTACT THEQUEEN’SAUTHORITYAT ONCE!The four flyers say the same thing, but the pictures drawn above the words are different. The faces of the men and women in them are all as pale as Valoria, as if they come from somewhere with little sun, though it’s hard to tell at first because of the smudgy charcoal symbols drawn on some of their cheeks and foreheads. I think the smudges are supposed to beblood.
Something about them is vaguely familiar. Their pale hair, their scars, and their fur-lined clothing tugs at the corners of my memory. One of the drawings shows a hard-eyed woman with small, intricate white-blond braids running along the sides of her head.
Suddenly, I remember that night at the tavern in Lyris as clearly as if I were standing there again. I only saw her for a moment then, but I’m sure that the woman who lingered in the shadows, watching us face down the crowd with interest, had the same hairstyle, the same fur clothes, and as many scars as her fellow warriors on the flyers.
My stomach drops. We’ve seen an Ezoran without realizing it. Though what she was doing in Lyris, apart from her kin, I can’t say. If she was a scout, she should have realized pretty quickly that Lyris is too tiny and too poor to be worth conquering.
Karthia, on the other hand, with its new queen still figuring things out...
“Awful, aren’t they?” Azelie appears at my side and links her arm through mine, apparently ready to leave the stable.
I shrug. “They don’t look so tough, those four.” Aside from their many scars, their sneers, and the hungry looks in their eyes, that is. Mind still reeling at how close we came to one of them, I mutter, “Bet I could handle them.”
“Not me!” Azelie declares, guiding us toward the market at a steady pace. “Even their portraits scare me. People were handing out those same flyers everywhere last month, because a couple of Ezorans somehow snuck past the border—we think they wanted to kill Queen Jasira. The soldiers who chased them back couldn’t evencapturethem.” She shivers. “Everyone says they fight better than us, even though they aren’t used to the heat here. That they’re as clever as they are cruel.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she adds, “I’ve even heard they like to experiment with magic.Darkmagic. That they push the boundaries of mages’ powers to do terrible things.”
I have so many questions on the tip of my tongue—namely, what sorts of magic the Ezorans could possibly be doing when I only know of five types—but Azelie’s expression encourages me to change the subject instead.
“So, what kind of flower are we looking for?” I ask, shortening Nipper’s lead as a woman and her child stop in their tracks to stare at our passing. “And what’s gotten into them?” I nod to the onlookers.
Azelie grins, flicking her high ponytail over her shoulder. “Most people here have what I call ‘dragon fever.’” She shrugs, steering us along the walking path opposite the market, where there are fewer people. “The fever’s never gotten me, since my uncles have the dragon nursery and I can see them anytime I want. But most people arefascinated. You’ll find all kinds of touristy stuff when we get inside the tents—speaking of which, you and Nipper should do some exploring. I need spirit orchids, and there’s only one vendor, but it’s going to take me until sunset to wear him down to the sort of price I’m comfortable with.”
We step through the rolled-up side of a long blue tent. The woman nearest the opening waves, trying to draw our gazes to her display, and I can’t help but take the bait. Silver dragon brooches, earrings, and necklaces glitter on her table.
“You’d be a tough sell,” the woman murmurs, her wide brown eyes on Nipper. “Seeing as you have the real thing.” Feeling suddenly protective, I step in front of my little dragon, shielding her from the woman’s view.
“I’ll meet you back at the stable at sunset. Oh, and don’t spend all your gold in one place.” Azelie winks and disappears into the fray, leaving me and Nipper alone among the curious shoppers.
