Crude Games (The Chronicles of Crofea #1)

Chapter 1

AUDRYN

I’d never killed someone before, but the two guards walking toward me might change that. My vision narrowed as they moved down the street, their eyes wide and heads on a swivel—no doubt looking for anyone daring enough to wield magic.

“Excuse me, Audryn,” a little voice beckoned from my side. “Can you spare peppers today?”

The guards paused to harass a meager female near a rundown storefront, giving me a few moments to stop. The squeaky wheels on my cart slowed as I set the long wooden handles down on the ground. I took another look at the guards to ensure they were still distracted.

“Good morning.” My eyes softened on the familiar curly-haired girl. “Peppers, huh? You don’t want apples today?”

Over the last six months, I’d stopped to talk to the gangly girl on my way to the market. Each morning, she begged silently, holding her small brown sack out to all who passed. Many ignored her, refusing to even look in her direction, while others donated a coin or two.

Each time I passed, I dropped a few vegetables in her empty bag and offered a smile. That was until she’d worked up enough courage to make a request. Rather than accepting whatever I’d selected, she asked for an apple and had made her desires known ever since. I happily obliged her requests.

“Nope, no apples.” The girl shook her head. “Mother’s going to take the pepper, scoop out the guts, and fill it with grain and meat. I’ve never had it before, but I hope it’s good.”

I knelt down on the cobblestone street. “That sounds delicious! Let’s see what I can gather up for you. Give me just a second.”

I turned to the cart and scanned the produce. The green peppers were perfectly plump and filled with a sweet, earthy scent—my favorite aroma. I selected three, knowing she had a brother at home, and found the largest red apple of the batch.

Pivoting back, I watched as Benton placed a crusty, round loaf of bread from his own inventory into her bag. She giggled as he made several silly faces and then offered her own. It was a goofy competition they’d always played; a game he let her win every time.

“Here you go.” I gently dropped the peppers into the bag. “And this is for you.” I extended my arm, letting the bright crimson fruit rest in the palm of my hand. Her sage-green eyes lit up at the sweet treat.

“And what is this?” a deep voice drawled from behind.

Not a second later, the apple was plucked from my hand. The girl gasped and took off running down the street, sack dragging along next to her.

I whirled and was met with the wide chest of a black uniform. Quickly, I scanned the shirt, finding the name C. Hunt embroidered over his left chest pocket in aqua-colored thread. Lifting my chin, I met the male’s haughty eyes.

“It looks like there’s an issue with your uniform,” I said innocently, not bothering to address him formally. I pressed my lips into a pout.

“Where?” He shook his head, his forehead creasing, as he searched frantically for an unruly string or a rogue button missing from his long-sleeved shirt. “You’re mistaken—this uniform’s in line with code.”

Hesitating for a few moments and batting my lashes unwittingly, I blew out an exaggerated breath. “It appears they mistakenly added an H to your name. You really should get that fixed.” I smiled. “It would be just terrible if someone addressed you improperly.”

The guard squinted at me for far too long, trying to make sense of my statement. Several moments passed before he’d worked out the insult in his pea-sized brain.

“Dare you speak to a member of the Rivale Guard with such disrespect?”

I stepped forward and rose onto the balls of my feet, teetering on my tiptoes. Our proximity provided the displeasure of smelling the aftermath of Hunt's morning coffee. Sneering, my gaze locked onto my prey. “I dare.”

Benton cleared his throat to my left and shifted on his feet. Luckily for him, our carts created distance between the two of us; even if the guard swung on me, my best friend wouldn’t be a casualty in the melee.

“Especially when one steals food from a hungry child’s hands.” I pressed my mouth into a thin line. Seconds passed as we stayed frozen in place, neither giving in, like two bulls in a standoff preparing to gouge their horns into one another.

“Okay now,” the female guard interjected, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Enough of that. There’s no need for things to get out of hand.”

The ginger-haired female tugged me, just enough to throw me off balance and make me take a step backwards.

The difference in Hunt and my height was far more apparent flat footed—though at five-foot-eight, I certainly wasn’t small.

I had a healthy amount of weight on my body and basic fighting skills, courtesy of lessons from my brother, making me a formidable opponent to most. Even if I couldn’t win, I’d give the guard a fight he’d remember.

Hunt smirked, raised his chin, and looked down his pointy nose at me. Setting the back of his wrist on the pommel of his sword, he flexed his fist in warning. I scrutinized his stature, considering whether he might’ve been my little brother’s killer.

“If you have enough food to hand out to beggars"—he took a massive bite of the apple—"you certainly wouldn’t mind feeding a hungry guard who keeps you safe, now would you?”

I looked on in disgust, watching the pieces of apple hop around in his open mouth as he chewed. One would assume a guard would have manners considering he represented the king, but I had lowered my expectations of our kingdom's guards long ago.

Inhaling deeply, Hunt choked on the apple bits still tumbling in his gaping hole. I chuckled to myself, hoping the entire core would lodge in his throat and send his body convulsing from the lack of air to his lungs. Tragically, he recovered from the short-lived coughing fit.

“Perhaps you are disloyal to the crown, and that is why you do not wish to give a guard a measly apple.” He stared lazily.

I rolled my eyes and feigned boredom. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not. Though I’m sure you’ll find another reason to haul me away, just as you do the others.” I threw my hands out in front of me, taunting him to take me to the prison with the others who’d been falsely accused.

Benton blew out an amplified breath.

My antics would make us late to the market, but toying with the guard was exhilarating and worth every lost minute. With our inventory selling out nearly every day, we had time to spare.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Miss,” the female guard interrupted. “We’re looking for members of the resistance. Do you know where we might find them? Names? Addresses? Nothing is insignificant. And we will keep your information confidential.”

Her questions poured out as if she were reciting a script and had simply been waiting for her cue. She was there for business, while Hunt was there to denigrate as many people as possible along the way, children included.

I dropped my hands and rolled my eyes away from Hunt, setting them on the inquisitive female guard. I shook my head. “If you want to meet your quota today, you’re going to need to look elsewhere. Even if I knew where to find them, I wouldn’t tell you.”

It didn’t matter that I hated the resistance just as much as she did—our reasons were vastly different. But I wasn’t about to sing like a canary, regardless of the reward they might have given.

“And you, sir.” Without skipping a beat, she turned to Benton, whose dark skin paled. "Do you have any information that might lead us to capture the rogue fae?”

Benton shook his head and stood in silence, face reeking with lies. Hopefully, she would interpret his expression as nerves because he’d likely crack if questioned further.

“Well, I hope we didn’t disappoint you too much,” I interjected, attempting to redirect her attention to me. “Though some disappointment is good for the soul.” My eyes darted to Hunt. “If you have one, that is.”

“The Crown appreciates your cooperation in its efforts. If you come across any information, whether confirmed knowledge or rumor, contact the guards at the castle gates and they will assist you.” The woman spoke the lines as if she’d been rehearsing them since she’d departed her mother’s womb.

“The resistance is a threat to Kingdom Rivale and will not be tolerated. Members will be located and imprisoned, each will be given a fair trial, overseen by King Sutton himself.”

“Fair, as if that’s possible,” I mumbled.

“What did you say?” Hunt resounded behind me and stepped around, closing the distance between us.

I smiled affectionately. “I think what your friend meant to say was that the only thing afforded to suspected members of the resistance is a public execution.”

“We’re lucky to have such a gracious king. He provides us with the opportunity to see the face of those who betrayed the crown,” Hunt defended. “Not only before, but after decapitation as well.”

“Lucky us,” I snarled.

Benton cleared his throat once more and approached my side, nudging my hand with his own, a silent plea to quit the one-sided banter.

I contemplated asking Hunt if he’d ever taken part in the public executions.

When the rope released and the blade dropped onto the necks of the innocent, had he been the one to do it?

Or was it the female guard? Was she heartless enough to end someone’s life without considering the effect on the person’s family?

I assessed her physique. She was far too small given the information I’d gathered about my brother’s murderer, which wasn’t much.

Though it was unlikely a lowly street guard would’ve held such an important position, I wouldn't rule out the idea that they were hiding in plain sight.

I also knew Kamden's executioner was burly and likely a male.

Unfortunately, the killer's identity remained a mystery.

Executioners, too cowardly to face their victims, hid under a face covering when completing the task, leaving me few clues.

Hunt looked past my friend and me, eyeing my cart full of produce, tongue running over his cracked bottom lip.

I wished for nothing more than to further split that lip with my fist.

Abruptly, he walked to my cart. The guard placed his half-eaten apple on top of the pile, tainting the others with his saliva still lingering on the assaulted fruit.

Selecting a fresh apple, he turned it leisurely, inspecting each curve and angle. He extended his arm, fruit still in hand, and looked at me. A sly grin made its way across his face as he let the newly chosen victim drop onto the ground. Plunk.

My face heated, anger forcing the blood to rush through my veins and direct my heart to thump wildly. I blew out a measured breath, trying to calm my nerves as the man selected another apple, eyed it, and dropped it theatrically to the ground. Plunk. Three more apples. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk.

The street went quiet—wide-eyed fae stopped to watch the interaction. A young boy clung to his mother, digging his tiny fingers into her leg. Others in the crowd snarled in disgust.

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. At least a dozen apples lay bruised and damaged in the street; their only remaining life would be for stewing. I ran my hands up the sides of my face and blew out a long breath, letting my cheeks puff.

There wasn’t much I could do—nothing, really. If I protested, it would only encourage Hunt to continue the razing. He could make an even bigger mess, possibly damage my cart. Maybe even destroy Benton’s goods.

“Ah, here’s the one I was looking for,” Hunt said approvingly, picking up the bright-red apple identical to the ones lying discarded on the ground.

Benton wrapped a finger around my pinky, the gesture cooling my anger by only a fraction.

Hunt took a large bite of the fruit, chewed several times and spat out the small scraps. “Your apples are shit.” Plunk. The scorned fruit fell to the ground, resting sadly near the other wounded.

I went to speak, but the grip on my pinky tightened, halting me from releasing the wrath of words restlessly bouncing on my tongue.

“We’re finished here.” Hunt looked to his partner and called over his shoulder as he started walking down the street. “Come on.”

The female guard avoided our gaze as she passed, the slump in her shoulders indicative of the same defeat plaguing me. She picked up her pace, jogging to catch up to her partner, who was already halfway down the block.

For several minutes, I stood frozen, ruminating on the morning’s events. Even if Hunt wasn’t Kamden's executioner, he’d unintentionally added himself to the list of people I was going to kill.