“I know the baron and his family reside here, but who are all these other people?” I asked Felaf through my black scarf.
“Those who can afford the taxes,” she answered.
“So only the wealthy and elite are looked after? How is that fair for the rest of the Scorpion people?”
Admittedly, it was generous of Maryn to house the families of the palace staff here. But to forsake everyone else—the very people I wanted to meet, who made up the rest of this queendom—was wrong.
Felaf never responded, instead focusing on the people we passed with wariness. She pointed up ahead to a looming building. “There is the Temple of Scorpio, where your ceremonial trial will take place. It’s one of the oldest temples still intact, not just in Scorpio but in all of Gaianos.”
I swallowed dryly, intimidated by the ancient building and massive scorpion statue situated at the top of the steep, sweeping staircase. I ducked my head to avoid the statue’s eyes, as though Scorpio watched me through them.
We stopped inside various bakeries, boutiques, and restaurants, all clearly catering to those with excessive Tin to spare. And while the potters and studios were teeming with artwork of water and depictions ofhudro, they all cost a fortune. The Tin was significantly less valuable than Gemini’s Irons, but no commoner could afford this art. Everyone deserved access to such beauty and creativity.
Darker than the light and playful fashion found in Gemini, the Scorpion people wore sleek and fitted clothing. Women had their hair down, long and smooth—a contrast to Gemini’s uptight fashion. Everyone we’d passed in the streets was draped in gorgeous black materials. They all moved with slow ease, wrapped in their safe bubble. Here, there was no fear the way Maryn—and everyone else—described. Not as patrols of guards marched prominently throughout the streets, prompting Felaf and me to duck into more shops to avoid detection.
These people were protected.
I didn’t understand how they could happily go about their days, dining finely as though there weren’t so many others without the same luxuries. In a way, I supposed I could—I had been one such person, living ignorantly in my own selfish bubble.
I didn’t want to be that person anymore.
When we rounded a corner, a clear view of the nearest skyland appeared. A sturdy, massive gate stood between the district we walked and the bridge to the despondent, seemingly abandoned area. Two guard towers stood erected on either side, connected to a wall that spanned the perimeter of the district.
Notably, though, no guards patrolled the wall. Considering this was where the Baron’s District separated from the rest of Antares, I expected there to be more activity.
As that thought flittered by, a figure appeared on the other side of the gate. Hesitant. Alert. And then, as surprised as I was to see the coast was clear, they slippedthroughthe bars of the gate and froze, waiting to see what would happen next.
I squinted my eyes. “Felaf.”
“I see him.” Felaf tugged me back. I fought against her grip but was no match for her strength. As the figure moved closer, now running in our direction, I realized that the bars of the gate weren’t at all wide enough for a person to squeeze through. At least, not someone fully grown.
Nor a fully nourished person.
“Oh, stars,” I muttered, horrified as the gangly, frail boy neared us. He couldn’t have appeared more than eight or nine years of age, though I suspected he was older than that. “Felaf, stop, please.”
“We need to leave,” Felaf insisted, pulling me away. “He’s trespassing, and the guards will see him?—”
“He’s a child. Clearly he’shungry!”
“We can’t know for sure. And where there’s one, there’s sure to be more. We are here in disguise. This far from the palace, it wouldn’t be wise to reveal?—”
“Let me go,” I ordered.
Reluctantly, she released her hold on me. I tracked the child. He’d looked in our direction, perhaps noticing our covert garments and thinking we, too, had snuck our way into the district.
“Hey!” I called him with a wave. I had some Tin tucked away, as well as a leftover pastry from a bakery that I could?—
A swooshing sound whizzed ahead, followed by a plantingthunk. The boy froze, his gaunt face going slack, before he collapsed to the ground. An arrow stuck straight up from his back, blood pooling from where the fabric had been pierced.
I was too stunned to scream, to cry, to move.
“We need to leave!” Felaf hissed. This time she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Before there’s a bigger misunderstanding here.”
She pinned me to her side as she ran. Her speed left me breathless. I stared behind at the boy’s lifeless body in horror. The last thing I saw was a swarm of guards swooping in before we dipped out of their sight. “He was a boy,” I croaked. “Just a boy.”
“He violated the law by breaking in,” Felaf countered.
“So he deserved to bekilled?”
