27. May the Suns Keep You Safe
27
MAY THE SUNS KEEP YOU SAFE
WREN
K adyn’s head whips towards me, his eyes wide beneath his hood. He jolts and jumps to his feet. “What?”
His voice is far too loud, and I shush him.
I knew it. I knew the Hunter was still pursuing me, even after I begged him to leave me alone.
Maybe I should’ve let Gabriel die.
My Mark seems to pulse on my forehead at the thought, but that can’t be right. The glow is nothing new, I’ve been dealing with it for almost a year, but pulsing? That’s never happened before.
My fingers itch with the urge to reach up and trace the swirl, but I clench my hands. Touching my Mark would be far too suspicious. I need to avoid attention, not draw it toward me.
“Over there.” Trying to be nonchalant—I’m not sure it’s working—I tilt my head in the direction I just saw Gabriel. “We need to leave.”
I stand, my skewers long forgotten. That’s when I notice that the salty air in the River Market has shifted.
No longer is it light, filled with the hustle and bustle of people living their regular lives. Now, it’s tense. Thick.
Dangerous.
Inhaling as deep as I can manage—which isn’t much, thanks to the panic squeezing my chest—I slowly scan the area for the source of the shift. The merchants remain at their stalls; the fishermen are still bringing in their loaded nets, but now…
Now the Watchers are here. No longer hidden, they’re standing out in the open. They’re not alone.
I count six Enforcers, the red sigils on their chests marking them as the special brand of the king’s soldiers employed to punish lawbreakers.
People like Kadyn and me.
Oh, suns. I sip air, trying to remain calm, but it isn’t working. Gabriel is here, and he’s brought Watchers and Enforcers with him.
Spending time in the River Market seemed like a good idea before, but now I’m noticing how enclosed it is. With the Salt River on one side and buildings on the other, there aren’t many places to run and hide.
Instinctively, I duck my head. Grabbing the edge of Kadyn’s cloak, I draw him close. “We need to split up and get out of here.”
We’re going to draw too much attention if we remain together. The chill from this morning has worn off, and the day is warming up. Our cloaks are bound to stand out. One person wearing a hood on a hot day is odd, but two practically screams, Look at me!
Thank the suns, Kadyn doesn’t argue. He nods and reaches into his cloak, grabbing some coins.
“Take these; you might need them.” He presses the money into my palm. “I’ll meet you at the stable tonight. You remember how to get back there?”
“Yes.” And honestly, even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. We need to move.
The Watchers and Enforcers worry me, but it’s the Hunter’s presence that has cold sweat gathering on the back of my neck.
What will Gabriel do if he finds me? How angry is he that I almost killed him? What if… what if he returns the favor? What if I never make it to our meeting place because Gabriel gets to me first?
“Wait.” My heart hammers as I pull Kadyn in for a hug.
We haven’t known each other for long, but between our Marks and everything he shared with me about his family, I feel a kinship with him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, hugging me back.
We don’t have much time, but the Hunter’s presence has my paranoia rearing its ugly head. Thoughts of dying cloud my mind, but I don’t want to split up without saying this.
“If something happens to me and I don’t make it to the stables tonight, don’t wait for me.” My chest tightens. “Run as fast as you can and do whatever it takes to get out of Myreth.”
Live .
For me. For Amelia. For his brother. For all of us who are born with a damned Mark fating us to die.
It’s not that I don’t want to live, too. It’s just that I don’t know if I’ll make it out of this city. Not with Gabriel here.
If he kills me, at least I’ll die knowing that I did something good with my freedom. I might not have been able to save the twins, but I saved Kadyn.
That counts for something, right?
Kadyn squeezes me before stepping back and making a religious gesture across his chest. “May the suns light your path and keep you safe, Wren.”
Once, a benediction like that would’ve warmed my soul. Now, it just reminds me of all the ways things have gone wrong.
“And you, as well,” I return the benediction. “Be safe, Kadyn.”
Assuring me he will do that, he makes me promise to do the same. I give him my word, even though I don’t think it’s up to me. Someone seems to have it out for me.
Kadyn studies me for another moment before he dips his head and walks away. He passes a pair of Watchers, disappearing into the crowd.
Once he’s gone, I turn and walk in the other direction. Keeping Kadyn’s coins firmly in my grasp, I head towards the exit.
Be calm. Be relaxed. Be normal.
The words cycle through my mind, and I try to embody them. It doesn’t feel like it’s working, though. The back of my neck burns, and it feels like everyone is looking at me.
The thing is, as much as I want to be, I’m not normal. My otherness is as much a part of me as my indigo hair or my curves.
It’s in every twitch of my fingers, every breath I breathe, every step I take, every glow of the Mark beneath my hood.
This time, I don’t notice the shoppers, the vendors, or the fishermen. All I can think about is my freedom and whether the king’s soldiers will rip it out of my grasp.
My fingers grow slippery around the coins, and the knots in my stomach tighten to the point of pain.
Don’t attract attention .
The words are a reminder to be careful as I leave the River Market behind. A wooden creak fills the air as I turn a corner. My eyes widen at the sight of a decaying body hanging from the gallows next to an empty pillory. The body is unrecognizable where it hangs, swaying gently in the morning wind.
I shudder. Judging by their decaying flesh and the crows feasting on their body, they’ve been there for a while. A thief’s brand is still visible on their neck, a permanent marker of their crime.
I plug my nose, abandoning my slow pace and scurrying past the hanging thief. No one would question why someone doesn’t want to linger in the face of death.
The next street is lined with shops on both sides. There are fewer people here, but it’s still busy.
I never thought I’d yearn for the emptiness of the endless forests, where it was just me and the countless trees, but here I am. Between this and the Giving Festival in Mora, I’m seriously considering taking up a life of solitude.
Once I save my sisters.
My thoughts are so loud, and my panic is so complete that I only pick up snippets of conversations as I hurry past clusters of people. Some are innocuous, but others have my blood chilling.
“There’s a new curfew…”
“Jack and the other Watchers are working double shifts from now till the end of the giving season. No one knows…”
Two women are walking down the steps of a white temple. Larger than the one at home, Esyn’s holy space sends shivers down my spine. Not wanting to linger near the goddess who abandoned me and demanded Amelia’s lifeblood, I race around the corner.
An old, bearded man wearing rags is standing on a crate in the middle of the street. A small crowd surrounds him.
“Lies!” he shouts. “It’s all lies.”
The man’s voice is hoarse, and he’s little more than skin and bones. I press myself against a wall, and my breath catches. Does he… does he know the truth?
“The Blessed and the Inherited are being killed! This is why we’ve lost the gods’ favor. Everyone thinks the gods are good, but?—”
A pair of hands violently wrench the man down from the square. Horror fills me as a Watcher unsheathes his sword and slams the pommel over the man’s head. Blood pours from the wound as he falls silent, and the Watchers drag his limp, unconscious body behind them.
A third soldier stands on the crate.
“Get out of here!” he shouts. “This man is insane, and he will suffer King Andreas’s wrath for disturbing the peace.”
The crowd disperses, running in every direction. I do the same, racing down the first street on my right. I’m so busy running—again—that I don’t pay attention as I take the next corner.
It turns out to be a suns-damned mistake.
Another pair of Watchers are standing on the sidewalk, huddled over a stack of parchment. They’re so close that I can see the scruff on the taller one’s jaw.
“Wren Nightingale,” says the clean-shaven Watcher, slapping what appears to be a poster on the nearby wall. “Suspected to be traveling with another gods-blessed…”
My ears start ringing, and the rest of his words don’t register. His partner murmurs something inaudible as he studies the portrait—the fucking Wanted ad—with my name, sketched likeness, and a damned reward printed on it.
Oh, suns.
It’s one thing to be an outlaw because I broke the Giving Agreement, but this? I never imagined it would come to this. At least, not before I left the country.
Now, everyone will know who I am. What I am. I won’t be able to trust anyone because the reward listed for my return to the temples before the end of the giving season is astronomical.
I knew the Hunters were aware of my disappearance since I’d seen Gabriel’s piece of paper with my information on it. But this? This is a whole new level of danger.
I don’t have time to consider why there’s a Wanted ad for me, nor do I have time to think about what it means for my family because the clean-shaven Watcher looks up. His brown eyes scan the street, and then they rest on me.
It’s like the air is sucked out of my lungs. For the longest moment, time seems to stand still.
This is it. The moment of my capture. It feels like I’ve been running for years, even though it’s been less than a month, but it’s all about to come to an end now.
Except, this can’t be the end. The king has the twins, and I don’t know what he wants with them. What will happen to them if I don’t help them? They need me.
I don’t wait for a flash of recognition to spark in the Watcher’s gaze or for him to shout at me to stop moving. Dropping my eyes to the sidewalk, I spin and walk away from the soldiers as nonchalantly as possible.
Panic is on the edge of my mind, but I refuse to let it take hold of me. I need to stay calm.
A shop with a wooden form wearing a dress in the window is on my right, and my eyes widen. Now, more than I ever, I need to change into some less recognizable clothing. I push open the door. A bell rings above my head as I step inside, sweeping my gaze over the shop.
Spools of colorful fabric line the walls. Several other wooden, headless bodies stand near the front door, joining the first one I noticed. They’re elegantly dressed, displaying what I’m assuming are the latest women’s fashions in Saltwater. There are dresses, loose pants, flowy tunics, and sweaters belted around the middle. There’s every color imaginable, as if someone pulled a rainbow out of the sky and infused it into these fabrics.
The shopkeeper is behind a wooden counter, smiling welcomingly at me. Her brilliant red hair is in a bun on top of her head, and her relaxed air has the tiniest bit of tension leaving my shoulders.
“Good morning,” she says, straightening some papers on the counter. “How can I help you?”
“I’m just looking for a new outfit.” I head over to the closest shelf, doing my best impression of an unmarked shopper as I browse the available goods.
The shopkeeper must not have seen the Watchers’ posters yet, because she doesn’t seem alarmed by my presence. Thanking the suns for small mercies, I grab a pair of pants and a loose cream tunic. The materials are soft beneath my fingers. Suddenly, all I can think about is getting out of Mother’s old dress and into these.
Smiling from beneath my hood, I approach the counter. “I’ll take these, please. How much are they?”
She names her price, and I count out the coins. Once I’ve paid, she directs me to a small, curtained-off area in the back of the shop where I can change. As I head to the back, I notice a pitcher of water and a cloth sitting on a counter. The woman has her back to me, so I grab those and slip into the changing room, rejoicing in my find.
I pull the curtain shut, placing the pitcher on a small table before unclasping my cloak and sliding my satchel over my head. Every second is precious, but I don’t want to leave behind one of my only belongings tying me to my family without a memento. Especially not when I don’t know if I’ll ever see my family again.
Taking the dress off quickly, I grab my knife and slice through the blue fabric with a gentle rip , cutting a rough square. The scrap goes in my satchel before I ball Mother’s dress up and put it in the waste bin.
I hurriedly pour water into the bowl, using the cloth to wash my body as best I can. Even without soap, I feel infinitely cleaner by the time I pull my new tunic over my head.
It boasts three-quarter sleeves and forest green embellishments along the collar and arms. I tie a belt under my breasts and slide on the pants. They’re a little long, but once I roll them around the waist and belt them, they fit.
Lovely. The sensation of being clean cannot be overrated. My lips tug up into a half-smile as I attach Father’s knife to my belt before grabbing my bag and cloak. I replace my hood, making sure my forehead is covered, before stepping back into my boots and lacing them up. I’m about to pull back the curtain when the bell above the door rings. Beads of sweat form on my forehead as two heavy footsteps enter the shop.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” the shopkeeper says. Is she speaking louder than before? “How can I help you today?”
There’s a crinkling sound, like a piece of paper being smoothed out, and then a man asks, “Have you seen this woman?”
Shit. I peer out, my eyes widening. The Watchers from the street are here. Gods damn it.
Changing my plans on the fly, I slip out of the changing space. A thin wall separates it from the rest of the space, and I stay behind it, racing towards the back door.
It leads into an alley, and I slip outside, careful not to let the door slam shut behind me. I turn right, not really paying attention to where I’m going. All I know is that I have to put space between me and the guards.
Several minutes pass as I run through alleys and down side streets. I keep going until I’m sure that I’ve lost them. My hood is still on, which feels like a miracle, and I don’t see anyone.
I slow, taking my first deep breaths since the Watchers walked into the dress shop, and press my hand against my hip. A cramp is starting to form.
Gods above, I fucking hate exercise.
Sagging against a brick wall, I shut my eyes. Wiping a hand across my brow, I breathe in deeply. Okay. That was far too close of a call. I’ll need to be more careful for the rest of the day until it’s time to meet up with Kadyn again.
Thank the suns, I was able to?—
A hand slaps against my mouth, and another grabs my arm painfully.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here?” a low, accented voice growls.
A scream rises in my throat, and my eyes fly open.
Three men who smell of salt and sweat are crowding me against the wall. There’s a dark glimmer in their eyes. They aren’t here to comment on how lovely my new tunic looks.
Each of the men is armed with long knives that taper off to a very sharp end, like the fishermen at the docks.
I curse, trying to yank my arm out of the constricting grip. The hand holding me gets tighter.
“Aren’t we lucky, boys?” the one with his hand against my mouth asks.
I scream into his hand and try to bite him, but he digs his fingers into my cheek.
“Very lucky. Who knew this pretty thing would be waiting for us when we docked today?”
This comes from the man on the left. He steps forward, running his filthy fingers down the side of my face and neck, stopping at the collar of my new tunic. His touch is nothing like Gabriel’s. There are no sparks here. No tension. Just pure, frigid terror.
No, no, no .
I fight against their grip, but it just makes things worse. I kick and pull and scream, but nothing is working.
Angry tears prick at my eyes. This can’t be happening.
“Thanks be to Nyna for her many gifts,” says the third, referencing Esyn’s youngest sister, the goddess of the sea. He continues, making a lewd remark I wish I could wash from my mind forever, and the sailors laugh.
Scum. Only the lowest of the low find joy in what these men plan on doing.
They’re still laughing, making crude jokes that have bile rising in my throat. They must not think I’m a threat because the hand holding my mouth has loosened a fraction.
Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, I snake my free hand into my cloak. My fingers wrap around the hilt of Father’s knife. I draw it out of the sheath, preparing to stab the man in front of me.
I might not know much about weapons, but I’ve been around my brothers enough to know that if a knee to the balls hurts, a knife has to inflict greater damage.
I just have to?—
“Sneaky little bitch, aren’t you?” Fingernails grip my jaw, squishing my features together. Cold fingers wrench the knife from my grip.
Horror fills me as my blade clatters on the cobblestones.
Burning suns, no. If there ever was a god who cared about me, this would be their moment to help me.
Please , I pray desperately. Somebody, help me .
No one comes. Of course.
The tremors I tried to suppress earlier race through me as the sailors laugh again. Their mirth sounds like darkness personified.
Hands trace my skin above my tunic, dipping lower and lower. I struggle and kick, desperately trying to break their hold. My efforts only seem to act as fuel to their cruel fire.
I never should’ve left Kadyn’s side. I should have stayed out in the open, where things like this don’t happen as easily.
But it’s too late for regrets, too late for things that I should’ve done.
Someone grabs a lock of my hair and pulls. I yelp, pain running through my scalp. Another hand reaches up and tugs on my hood before roughly yanking it back.
No.
A ringing fills my ears as the men pause, their gazes locked on my forehead.
Two weeks. That’s all that stands between me and the Winter’s Eve Ball, marking the end of the giving season.
I’ve stayed hidden for so long, but now…
Now my secret is out, and these men are going to… They want to…
They laugh, their voices mingling together as panic forms a haze over my mind.
“I’ve never tasted a gods-blessed.”
A dark chuckle. “Nyna has blessed us indeed.”
“I get her first.”
They keep laughing, keep touching me, and I keep struggling against their holds. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to break free.
An angry tear slides down my cheek. I’ve always wondered what fate could be worse than death, and I fear I’ve discovered it.
The sailor in front of me leans in so close that I can make out the silver scar slashed across his cheek. His eyes shimmer with violence and lust, and my stomach twists.
The evil man’s breath brushes over my cheek, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll try to kiss me.
I’ll bite his fucking mouth if he does.
“We’re going to have so much fun with you, little gods-blessed…”
His words end in a bloody gurgle as the life drains from his eyes. I look down in confusion, my eyes widening at the steel sticking out of the sailor’s neck.
Then, the blade is gone. The man falls to the ground, dead.
And I’m staring into the Hunter’s emerald eyes.