Chapter 1 #3
Their brute forms towered above the masses, broad shoulders draped in deep mahogany leather that crinkled with every step. The curved daggers at their hips flashed silver in the sunlight.
One man in particular was truly terrifying—a jagged scar carved clean from the side of his head, slicing down to his neck like a lightning bolt on tanned skin.
The previous commotion dwindled to soft whispers as the guards made their way through. An elder woman with silver hair tucked under a faded headscarf clicked her tongue, face pinched with disapproval.
“What in the Heavens has brought them here?” she muttered, just loud enough for nearby ears.
King Farden was as useless as ruler could be.
Tales of his wealth and gleaming palaces were known to all, not that his prosperity ever trickled down to us.
The people here, especially the elders, harboured deep grudges against the royals.
When illness had swept through our village, no aid had been sent.
No healers spared for those who needed it most.
My hands curled into fists at my side, resentment festering at the thought.
I had lost my father to that illness, his final days spent shivering on sweat-soaked bedding. Theo, now standing with his arms braced tight against his chest, had lost both parents.
The scarred guard must’ve heard the woman, because he stopped abruptly, boots scrapping against the dirt as he pivoted to face her.
Unfortunately, she stood right behind me.
He stood so close I could see the small details of the king’s sigil embossed on his chest piece in burnished bronze—a falcon with wings spread wide, clutching a crescent moon in its talons. A thick burgundy sash was tied at his waist, representing the king’s colour.
The snarl etched into his face was lethal, deepening his scar into a grotesque valley. His eyes—one brown, one slightly clouded—swept over me dismissively before fixing on the elder woman.
I stole a glance over my shoulder where she stood firm, hands braced on her plump hips and chin tilted upward in defiance.
I wanted to laugh. She reminded me so much of my mother.
The guard simply shook his head, a muscle in his jaw twitching. With a grunt that might’ve been out of disgust, he continued forward. His heavy boots faded as the market gradually roared back to life.
The guards didn’t care about us, and from the way people resumed their business as if they had never interrupted, the feeling was mutual.
I turned back to Theo, grabbing his forearm to pull him along, I quickened my pace, dodging the group of children who had circled back, chasing after a small kitten that darted between stalls.
I motioned toward a group of young women watching him from a distance, their gazes filled with a mix of desire and envy.
“Look at them, Theo,” I said, placing the back of my hand against my forehead. “Swooning.”
He turned his head dramatically, as if only now noticing his admirers. He straightened his back, rolled his shoulders and with exaggerated flair, spun in a small circle.
“Do you blame them?” he asked, flashing a smug grin. “I mean… look at me. I’m gorgeous.”
“Ha!” I scoffed. “Sure, if you like that obvious type of beauty. You know, the kind that requires no imagination whatsoever.”
And he was beautiful, in the way that made people stop and stare without realising it.
Tall and broad-shouldered, with a frame built for battle.
His light brown hair—now tied back in a careless knot—had streaks of gold from weeks under the sun.
It was the kind of effortless handsomeness that only irritated me more, especially when he knew exactly the effect he had.
He slung his arm around my shoulders, and I immediately pried it off, shoving him away.
I could feel the daggers being glared into my back, a sensation so familiar I could identify it without turning around.
Even though everyone in the village knew we were nothing more than childhood friends, it didn’t stop the jealous stares.
Even as children, girls would throw mud at me for the crime of being the chosen one—the only person Theo wanted to play with.
“Heavens above,” I muttered, hunching my shoulders as we passed a group of particularly venomous-looking women. “If looks could kill, I’d have been buried a thousand times over.”
“Again,” Theo said, spinning in another slow, self-satisfied circle. “Can you blame them?”
I rolled my eyes and kept walking. “I can, and I will.”
He fell into step beside me once more, his gaze drifting over the sea of bustling stalls like a hawk. “Where’s Malira?”
“She’s probably haggling some poor merchant to death,” I said, standing on tiptoe to scan for her. “You know how she gets when the traders come.”
Theo nodded. “Ahh, yes. The art of bargaining. A sacred tradition passed down through generations of formidable women.”
“More like a public execution. I’ve seen merchants weep after dealing with my mother.”
It wasn’t an exaggeration. My mother could talk a man down from gold to copper with nothing more than sheer determination and an arched brow. She called it a gift. I called it a slow, agonising death for whoever had the misfortune of selling her anything.
We stopped at a stall where an old woman with henna-stained fingers arranged delicate pastries on a tray. The fragrance of honey and cardamon drawing me in.
I picked up one of the golden, flaky treats. The layers crackled beneath my fingers.
“How much for two?” I asked, already reaching for the small pouch of coins tucked into my sash.
The old woman smiled, revealing a mouth with more gaps than teeth. “For you, three coppers, but only because your eyes remind me of my granddaughter.”
I smiled, handing over the coins and took a second pastry for Theo. The moment the crisp outer layer gave way to a soft, spiced centre, I melted against the edge of the stall, savouring the flavours.
I moaned, my eyes falling closed. A small shower of crumbs fell from my mouth. “This is so good.”
Silence.
I opened my eyes to find Theo frozen, his pastry hovering near his mouth and his eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“What?” I asked, brushing my chin with the back of my hand.
He blew out a puff of air, somewhere between a laugh and a groan as he shook his head.
“Uh… nothing.” With an exaggerated casualness that fooled no one, he added. “Do that again.”
It took me all of two seconds to realise what he meant. My face scrunched in disgust. I jabbed him hard in the ribs with my elbow, forcing a wheeze out of him.
“You’re gross,” I said, snatching the pastry from his hand. In one fluid motion, I ducked beneath his outstretched arm and bolted into the sea of people.
“Elira!”
Theo’s echoing shout spurred me on to run faster. I took a victorious bite of my stolen treat as I disappeared into the labyrinth of the market, my laughter trailing behind me like a ribbon in the wind.
Men. So easy to distract.
It didn’t take Theo long to find me. He was breathless, with hands braced on his hips and a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. His chest heaved as he pushed through a cluster of women bargaining over dyed silk.
“You’re mean, you know that?” He said as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a smudge of dust across his skin.
I glanced over my shoulder, grinning as I slipped through a narrow alleyway. The earthen clay walls cast deep shadows against the cobalt sky.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, taking another bite of the pastry.
Theo quickened his pace, his leather sandals slapping against the packed earth.
“If you wanted me all hot and breathless, all you had to do was ask,” he teased.
I made an exaggerated retching sound that drew annoyed glances from nearby vendors. Theo shoved me playfully, but before I could return the favour, my body tensed—stomach dropping to my feet as if I’d missed a step walking downstairs.
I grabbed Theo’s arm, my nails digging into his skin as I pulled him toward a narrow gap between two buildings.
Too late.
“Elira!”
Damn it.
I released his arm and shot him a sharp glare. “Don’t say anything, or I will kill you,” I hissed.
Theo, the insufferable traitor, had the audacity to raise his hands in mock surrender. His eyes darted between me and the approaching figure.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, rocking back on his heels. “This is far too entertaining.”
With gritted teeth, I turned back around, forcing my features into something that didn’t scream regret and desperate desire to flee.
Eli stood beneath an archway, his arms folded across his chest. His smile was the kind that could lull someone into a sense of comfort. Yesterday, that same one had lured me right into his arms.
The sunlight through the canopies dappled patterns across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the soft curve of his mouth.
“Hey,” he said smoothly, tilting his head to the side. “Do you think I could see you later? You know… finish where we left off?”
I cleared my throat as I scrambled for an excuse.
“Um, I’m going to be really busy…” I swallowed hard, my eyes shifting to a woman walking side by side with her daughter. “Helping my mother. She bought so many things, and we need to sort through them all.”
An obnoxious snort sounded beside me. “No, you don’t.”
I turned to Theo, my eyes wide with silent fury. My hand shot out, aiming for his ribs, but he anticipated the move and sidestepped just out of reach.
Eli, to his credit, didn’t call me out on the blatant lie. He simply stood there, watching me with that quiet, patient smile. My stomach twisted with guilt.
He was sweet. Handsome too. By all accounts, I should’ve wanted him.
But I didn’t.
Not in the way he had hoped. Not in the way that would make meeting his gaze less painful.
And he knew it.
His smile faltered, then he stepped aside, sweeping his arm in a graceful arc to give us room to pass.