“Avoiding Gabriel’s guards,” Espen said. “We have to remain anonymous.”
Inge looked me over for a second. He frowned even more. “Then why is he dressed like an imperial queen?”
Espen gasped. “He is not! He is simply embodying the elegance befitting of a king omega!”
I took in my own outfit. I did not know where we were headed, but if not an official banquet, Espen and I were sure to stand out. Despite the glamour hiding my distinct colouring, thejewels and fine materials of our clothes were not easily missed. I assumed we had to be going somewhere official, perhaps ordered by the General.
I found I was sorely mistaken in my assumptions of our destination. Minutes later we were walking into town. If visiting the backstreets of Kanna was our goal, I should have been the one to dress us. Espen clearly had no experience blending in.
Unlike the drowned town, this city was made largely of brick. The foundations of the buildings were made of ancient stones. The houses built closely together. The bare and damp walls were covered with moss and lichen, and moist from near constant rain. Bricks on top of the ancient stone turned ruins into homes. Thatch roofs, thick and steep, helped the homes withstand the extreme weather conditions that plagued the Oaklands. Stone paths were framed by large gutters leading down towards the river. Kanna sat at the point where salt water turned life-sustaining. Not at the seashore, but close enough for an armada to storm the river with no warning. The Grey Keep sat at the highest point of a hill framed by flowing water on both sides, as the river split at the foot of the hill, creating a natural protective barrier. The city of Kanna was built on the inland slope of that hill, so the side that faced the shore that could catch most of the stormy weather before it reached the common people. At the foot of the hill, at the border of the city, the river became one again.
A defensive position. Strategic. And yet the city had collapsed in on itself once. Destroyed by its own magical veil. Brought to ruin by sorcerers. At least, that was how the story was told.
Was it not poetry that a sorcerer was the one to bring it back to life?
This city that I had always been told was scarcely populated was bustling with activity. Bursting with magic.Although in the backstreets, werewolves were plenty, and we stuck out like a sore thumb, the market was a whole different beast.
A plaza ten times the size of the market square of Auriyonne. And in between the werewolves, I spotted other magical beings. No one was quite like me. I recognised no sirens, sorcerers, druids or shapeshifters. In that I was still alone. But there were others. Magic I had sensed before, hiding by glamours. Creatures I had only seen in books, that were unable to hide in plain sight. Dwarfs, crones, brownies and gnomes.
From the tiniest pixies to a troll towering over everyone else. Some were manning the stalls, others were simply shopping.
The smell of butchered meat was overwhelming. I covered my nose with the hood of my cloak.
My free hand was grabbed. Espen pulled me towards a stall that smelled sickeningly sweet. Hardened sugar in the shape of a cone. A pot of caramel stirring, an elderly omega with a scent that blended into the sugary aroma that engulfed us.
“Three syrup soldiers please,” Espen asked. He handed her a golden coin. The old woman smiled sweetly.
“Wandered a bit far from the castle, haven’t we?” she asked. Espen sighed and thanked the omega. We sat on a bench next to the stall, protected from the unpleasant scents that blanketed the rest of the plaza.
Inge and Espen had been saying a lot, but I barely registered a word. There was too much happening. Not only at the market, but within me as well. I never knew a place like this existed. Full of overt magic, not tinged with fear. Espen’s hand was warm, and the treat was overwhelmingly sweet. These sensations were grounding me. If Espen let go, I feared I would float away, bumping into my own emotions on the way up. I could not pinpoint what I was feeling. There was no room forsentiment when my senses were overpowered by an unfamiliar crowd.
“How is it?” Inge asked. I nodded at him, as a signal of approval without having to speak. The two continued to chatter about nothing at all. About what to buy, about what they saw, about Alain’s tendency to go to bed after midnight.
“Alain is leaving in three days, I am not sure for how long,” Inge said. “It means he is joining Axel at the front.” This caught my attention.
“A battle is coming,” Espen said. I bit my lip.
“Don’t worry. Humans could never win from Werewolves when the battleground is a forest,” Inge said. “But the castle will be lifeless when all the soldiers are gone.”
We went to a few more stalls. I let myself be dragged wherever, accepting the gifts that came my way. A scarf, a ring, a pocketknife. Espen had an endless supply of gold to spend. Inge told him off for bringing that much gold to a busy market. Once I got used to the smell and the noise of the place, I chatted with them. I asked about the city. I even giggled like a girl a few times when Inge made a joke or two.
Eventually, we were in a jolly mood. We made our way into a side street with the goal of finding moonshine. Espen and I took off our jewels and hid them in the pockets of our cloaks. I closed the top button of the cloak, hoping to be less conspicuous.
A carved-out sign signalled the presence of an inn. The wooden doorframe was low enough for Inge and Espen to have to duck their heads to enter the building.
It was a dark and dingy place, yet it was full of life. The inn was familiar to me in a way the castle wasn’t. Tables packed close together. Werewolves singing folk songs at the top of their lungs. We sat at a table in a corner near the door. We counted our blessings that the patrons were common werewolves, as anyalphas would take notice of us immediately. Especially Espen, as an unmated omega werewolf, stuck close to the walls.
It occurred to me that looking common might be more dangerous for Espen than his usual extravagant get-up. Who would dare to mess with a lofty castle omega?
Inge served us tankards of enormous proportions, filled to the brim with a grey foamy liquid. One sip was enough for me to realise I did not have the constitution of a Werewolf, and I would not finish the beverage.
Still, I made a valiant effort. Halfway through the challenge, the other omegas got louder. I was warm with fondness for the men, and I felt hot from the alcohol burning my throat.
“Gabriel,” Inge said. He took my hand. His gaze was coloured by liquor, but his eyes were earnest. “I have been worried about you, Gabriel. Axel is a brother to me, but what he is doing is not right.”
I swallowed the sip I had just taken. I chuckled at him. I looked at Espen, but he wasn’t laughing.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
