Chapter 1 #2
Blayren looked. He said nothing, but I could read the panic masked behind his silence.
“It shone the brightest up there,” Kaydra boasted. “You should’ve seen Malina’s face. She thought hers was a dud! I cannot wait to see what happens at the Moon Basin. I hope hers turns red. She deserves to be with one of those filthy savages.”
My sisters laughed. I forced a smile. Blayren never once looked at me.
For that, I was grateful.
His gaze stayed fixed on Kaydra, the daughter he could be proud of.
“Narya.”
I startled at his voice. “Yes, Father?”
His almond eyes lingered on me, then slid to the crowd.
“You can show us yours later,” he said, relief washing over me. “There’s a young lad looking for you. Over there, at the stalls.”
My heart leapt. Petyr. I’d forgotten about Petyr!
In some places, people were guided by their hearts instead of their aelith.
It was rare but it happened. What if I could convince Petyr we could still be together? That we didn’t need the gods’ blessing for that.
Grisanne and Eveldra snickered together.
I barely heard them, too focused on what might be my last and only hope.
“We’ll meet you back here when it’s time,” Blayren said, lowering Rueren. He glanced at me before he set her down, trying but failing to hide the fear that flickered in his eyes. “As for you”—his gaze shifted to his youngest—“you’re with me.”
“But Papa—”
“No buts.”
“Yes, go crawl after your little fish-boy,” Eveldra sneered.
“Perhaps he has half a wit to spare for you,” Grisanne added with a similar sneer. “To go with yours.”
“Keep it up,” I muttered coolly, “and I’ll shove a trout in both of your nasty traps.”
“Now that I’d pay to see,” Kaydra laughed. “But don’t forget, today is all about me.”
Rueren blinked and tilted her head, the same way she made her pet chicken do.
“Papa says everyone gets a star today. Not just you.”
Kaydra leaned in. “Would you also like some trout in your teeth, little sister? I hear it’s delicious this time of year.”
“Papa!”
“Enough!” Blayren barked. “One more word and I’ll wash all your mouths out with fish!”
They jumped. He rarely raised his voice, so they knew he meant it.
“Back here in an hour,” he ordered. “Don’t be late.”
“Yes, Father,” we replied together.
“We hear you, Papa,” Rueren mumbled, her pout almost comically fierce.
She burst into laughter when he reached up to tickle her again, glancing back at me one last time.
I smiled at him as I watched them cross to The Tilted Tavern.
For a moment, I almost forgot my disgrace.
My smile faltered, tears rising again. I drew a sharp breath and shook my head.
I needed a plan if I wanted to stay with them.
Otherwise, I’d be sent to live in the Wastes with all the other Fateless. If they were still alive.
I scanned the crowd for Petyr. At first I couldn’t see him, until I rose onto my toes, and there he was.
He stood beneath his father’s striped stall awning, the blue-and-white canopy snapping in the wind above.
Behind him, rows of blood-slick crates overflowed with freshly caught fish.
I used to find the scent of brine and salt in the air comforting. Now it turned my stomach.
Because if Petyr wouldn’t help me now, I was doomed.
He worked with his sleeves rolled up, gutting a silver-finned eel.
His hands moved quickly, perfected by years of repetition.
The scrape of the blade against bone made my stomach twist. I watched him for a moment, unsure if I should approach.
Salt-clumped cobalt hair fell damp across his brow.
He looked older somehow, and leaner than I remembered.
His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader from hauling nets onto his father’s boat.
Hands that once held mine were now stained with blood and salt.
It’d been months since I’d last seen him.
What if he didn’t react the way I hoped?
Or worse—what if he reacted exactly as I feared?
Before I could turn away, he glanced up.
Our eyes met. My breath caught. Something flickered in his gaze.
It was gone before I could name it. He didn’t smile.
He just wiped his hands on his blood-stained apron and tossed the blade into a bucket behind him.
Then he stepped out from behind the stall, leaned against the post with his arms folded over his chest, and waited.
Crossing the space between us felt like walking to the gallows.
Each step heavier than the last, my pulse loud enough to drown the market noise.
I stopped just short, hands still buried in my pockets.
His gaze skimmed me, lingering at my chest, then at the empty hollow of my throat where a crystal should have hung.
Where the aelith inside should be glowing.
He didn’t speak at first. When he did, his voice was different, his tone almost bored-sounding.
“Thought you wouldn’t show.”
There was no warmth in it. No softness. As if he already knew the words before I could voice them.
“I almost didn’t,” I said, my pulse hammering in my ears. I tried not to let it show. “But I knew you’d be waiting for me. Good catch today?”
He looked me over again, slower this time, ignoring my painful attempt at small talk. I’d never been good at it.
“You’re not wearing it,” he remarked, looking away again.
I curled my fingers tighter around my crystal. I couldn’t even say it aloud.
Saying it would make it real and I wasn’t ready to face reality yet. I was still in that devastating phase of disbelief where one clung to hope no matter how senseless it was.
“Well…” He gave a tired sigh and reached for another knife. “You should go. Before they find out.”
My heart sank as a tremor ran from my hand to my throat.
“But I—”
“My family needs this stall,” he said, barely meeting my eyes. “You standing here isn’t helping. Go, before people start thinking I’m one of you too.”
One of you. Fateless, he meant.
I flinched. The boy I once kissed in my father’s barn would never have spoken to me like this.
The sting was sharper than I expected. I almost confessed to him that I needed his help, but the words withered before they could reach my lips.
I would not beg. I’d rather face my fate alone than crawl to a man for help.
But my family… they deserved the chance.
“I’m still me,” I whispered, clutching at something already broken between us. Whatever hold I once had over him, was gone. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” He stared down at the blade in his hand. “You’re marked now, Narya. Soon everyone else will know. So just—just go, before you get us both in trouble.”
It hit me then. Petyr was scared of me. Scared of what would happen to him if he was found talking to a Fateless.
An old woman I vaguely recognised appeared beside me.
Her gaze lingered on the strands of hair that had slipped from under my hood.
I didn’t need to look at her to feel the judgment.
I’d spent my whole life enduring it. Moonstones were suspicious by nature, but Iolites?
They’d believe the moon was made of glass if King Ultherion told them so.
She was the butcher’s wife, I quickly realised.
An old crone who hated me more than most.
Petyr’s voice lifted quickly. “Fresh eel! Caught today, still twitchin’.”
He spoke as if I weren’t there. And it was just like that, that I became nothing to him. Just a part of his past he needed to erase. And he did it so quickly I stared at him with my mouth slightly open. I couldn’t believe I actually allowed myself to think he would help me.
I stayed there for a moment longer, until I couldn’t bear it anymore.
Until my throat closed and the edges of my vision blurred with anger.
Then I squeezed my hand as hard as I could, and let the crystal bite.
Pain flared sharp and bright across my palm, cutting through the haze long enough to force me forward. If I stayed a moment longer, I would’ve rammed an eel so far down Petyr’s throat the gods would not be able to reach it.
I yanked my hood lower and headed back into the bustling crowd.
My hands shook, my eyes stinging with the same pain and fury that sliced through my chest. But I refused to let the tears fall. Not until I was alone.
“You think you’re the only one who hoped for something more?” Petyr called out to me, freezing me mid-step. I didn’t turn, but I listened to every poisonous word. “The realm doesn’t care what you hoped for, Narya. It only sees what you are.”
Fateless. He didn’t need to say it. We both knew.
Rain splashed my face. I wiped it with my sleeve and kept walking.
I would not let him see me break.
I crossed the market into the high street, searching the narrow alleys, desperate for a place to hide. Somewhere to breathe, and break if I had to. I didn’t have a lot of time left before everyone would find out.
On my fourth attempt, I found an alley dark and empty enough.
I stumbled halfway down before collapsing behind a crate and pressing my back to the brick wall. Shaking, I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms tight around them.
“Just breathe… just breathe…”
I whispered it like a prayer. But the pain inside me came undone, pain I had kept caged for so long. Pain that frightened me because I’d never really let it out. Always suppressing, always hiding and pretending nothing ever hurt me anymore.
Something stirred in the corner of my eye.
A dove thrashed in the gutter. Mangled wings flailed, torn beak scraping the cobblestones for air. One of thousands released hours before to mark the Stargala, no doubt. My stomach heaved for its suffering.
Because they always suffered. They starved or broke themselves against the crystal-glass towers of upper Selenith. They became nothing more than shattered symbols of hope by the end. Something I could relate to.