A couple of times, he notices me staring and promises he’s fine. But I know that thick-headed Aegis is lying through his teeth. He certainly isnotfine, and if we’re nowhere near the castle, then we’re finding the closest inn to stay at.
Thankfully, it isn’t long before Graylen stops, holding a hand up. At almost the exact same moment, I hear what he hears.
Horses nickering, wooden doors open and closing, bubbling laughter mixed with drunken shouts. Not just the sound of a cottage or two, but the sound of avillage.
“This way,” I say, my feet carrying me faster through the dense forest until glowing flickers of light begin to appear through the trees in front of us.
The three of us take the town in, Adrian shuffling to a halt.
“King’s Border,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.
Graylen and I both spin toward him.
“Please don’t tell me you just said we’re in King’s Border,” I say slowly.
Adrian swallows, the gulp audible. “Then it looks like I won’t be telling you anything.”
I narrow my eyes at him, my nostrils flaring as I hiss, “Is this just a game to you?”
He shakes his head, rapidly blinking like he can’t believe what he said either. Because if he’s right and we’re at King’s Border…
We may be in Crea, but we’re a long way from getting to the castle.
This town is thefurthestpossible point from the castle. Not only are we looking atweeksof travel to get there, but now we have to make do with what provisions we have.
Which is not nearly enough to get us all the way to the castle.
I stomp away from Adrian and Graylen, finding someone to confirm what Adrian said. He would know far more about Creathan I, seeing as I never ventured far from Runnswick or the king’s camp, but I still want to hear someone else say it.
I jog up to a slender woman carrying a basket of corn.
Breathless, I ask, “Excuse me, can you tell me what town this is?”
She gives me an odd look and adjusts the basket on her hip. “King’s Border,” she answers, a lilt in her accent. “Town center is to the left there. Loads of businesses will be closing up for the night soon if you’re looking for a meal.”
I give her a tight smile. As she walks away, my hope goes with her. When I turn around, I find Graylen and Adrian watching me, both mirroring my expression of disappointment.
“Looks like we’re staying here for the night,” Adrian mumbles. “Better find a place to eat, wash up, and sleep in.”
Unease slides into my stomach as I take in the town around me.
Crea is just as I remember it: muddy, brisk, and dark. There’s a handful of people milling about, all headed toward the town center.
A little girl runs past me, her feet bare and sodden with dirt. It’s far too cold for her to go without shoes, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her too-big dress is frayed and muddy around the hem. She doesn’t look to be older than six or seven, her ringleted hair bouncing as she hurries along alone.
My stomach dips as I watch her run up to a well-dressed young couple, her hands outstretched as she asks for food. Not coin;food.
I’ve always hated Crea—more so when I found Penyth—but this… It reminds me how lost the people are here, how desperate they are for stability and safety.
I glance at Adrian, watching how he observes the little girl. This is his kingdom—his people. I don’t think he’s ever seen them in this way, especially when his father kept the castle stocked with decadent foods, wines, and decor.
Crea may stand for everything I despise in this Divine-forsaken realm, but it’s still hard to witness their struggle. Iknowtheir struggle—I partially lived it myself in the king’s camp, saw beggars in the market and the mob that formed at the king’s funeral.
Graylen is talking to a man packing up crates of produce after a day of selling. The man’s hair is grayed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he flashes an easy smile. He hikes his thumb over his shoulder. Graylen’s gaze follows the gesture; he tips his head to the man and walks back over to us, but as the man bends down to pick up a crate of goods, I can’t seem to look away.
It reminds me of a produce seller I once knew—of a man around his age that would spend endless blazing summer days and brisk winter evenings in the Runnswick Market.
The seller reminds me of Linnick.
