Before her in the dark alleyway, where she was cold and crouched and in only a dirty linen dress, was a man of perhaps twenty-odd years of age, wearing spectacles. Since escaping the school, Arienne hadn’t seen a single person wearing spectacles. The man had a fresh wound on his chin and looked serious and a little nervous, but there was an air of curiosity in his gaze as he stared at her.
“Excuse me—”
“Go away!” spat Arienne. “You have the wrong person. Go!”
Her gestures only seemed to elicit further fascination from the man, who studied her as if she were some rare bird he’d come across.
Then he said something unthinkable. It wasn’t what he saidreally, but how he said it—in Arlandais, a language Arienne hadn’t heard or spoken for years.
“T’lie Arleshe?”
Arienne was so startled she replied in Arlandais. “Yehre.” She glimpsed Arlander clan markings on the man’s throat. Her own must be fully visible, without her robe.
The man’s serious expression broke into a smile.
“Aidee. Mia Cain.”
“Aidee. Mia Arienne.”
She forgot the cold wind blowing through the alley. She forgot that she needed to be hiding her real name.
“T’li bidan.”
The man named Cain held up a finger, pulled a paper bag from his inner pocket, and handed it to Arienne. He continued speaking to her in Arlandais. She understood most of it, although she hadn’t uttered a single word since coming to the Capital. Cain spoke quickly, omitting words and contracting phrases every so often. He was clearly from Kingsworth, the largest city in Arland. Arienne was a little intimidated and could hardly answer him, but Cain’s face brightened as he spoke on.
The bag was warm from having come from his inner pocket. When she opened it, the scent of olive oil and bread wafted out from inside.
“Tandas,” answered Arienne.
“Ni yehre.” Cain gave Arienne’s shoulder two light pats and headed into Lukan’s tavern.
Arienne devoured the warm, oil-dipped bread. Cain was likely to say something about her to Lukan. Maybe tell him her name. Then would Lukan come out and look for her?
She no longer had a reason to wait until he closed for the night. She turned the corner and walked right into the brightly lit tavern.
Everyone’s eyes fell on Arienne as she entered the doors. Half of them were people who had passed her in the alley. They all wore grimy clothes and hard expressions, but compared to Arienne’s state of disarray, they were positively genteel. Her face grew red.
Cain was sitting at the bar, watching her approach. Walking over, she sat down next to him, feeling the gazes of the other patrons falling on her back. The warm tavern was humid and smelled of cooking vegetables. She gulped.
Lukan had stopped wiping down the bar and was looking at her as well. His lush beard, his braided hair, the blue cords interweaved into his braids—he looked exactly the same as six years ago.
“Someone you know?” Lukan asked Cain, not recognizing his own niece.
“Only just. Her name is Arienne, and she’s an Arlander.” Cain nodded at Arienne and said to Lukan, “She looks like she’s been cold and hungry for a while, though. Got something for her to eat?”
Lukan glanced quickly at Arienne’st’laranand scratched his own neck tattoos as he turned to Cain. Cain tapped his chest. The sound of metallic clinking was heard from it. Only then did Lukan look at Arienne and smile.
“Oh, I didn’t notice yourt’laran.A girl from the old country. I have a relative, something like a niece, who’s also named Arienne. I haven’t seen her in a while, but she ought to be around your age. She’s studying at the…” His smile disappeared. He leaned overthe bar and stared squarely at Arienne’s clan markings, eyes widening in realization and horror. He whispered to her, “What are you doing here?”
Fear was mixed in his voice. Arienne also bent low over the bar and whispered, “I ran away from school this morning. I’ll tell you everything soon, but please don’t attract any more attention.”
Lukan’s face hardened. Cain seemed to sense something was wrong as well. He glanced at Lukan and then back at her.
Finally, Lukan managed to get ahold of himself, and without a word, ladled some soup into a bowl for her. It was almost completely broth. Arienne also did not say a word as she gulped it down, feeling its warmth spread through her body. There was a bench in the corner with a gray blanket that was singed in places from lit candles past. Arienne went to the bench and wrapped herself in the blanket as if she had just crawled out of the surf after a shipwreck.
Time passed. Customers left. Arienne noticed Cain taking note of every person who came and went. Lukan signaled for him to leave as well, but Cain shook his head.
When it was just the three of them, Lukan closed the door and bolted it. He snuffed out every candle and lamp save one.
