IX | OLD FRIENDS
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WHY CAN'T I CATCH A brEAK?
Celvene's feet pounded against the cobblestone, quick, frantic steps. She didn't risk a glance over her shoulder. At least three people were chasing her, maybe more, and taking time to ogle at them would slow her down.
"Get back here!" one yelled—a new voice, female, judging by the sound of it. Not one of the voices she recognized. So more had joined in. Great.
She ignored the woman's blubbering cries, lowering her head and focusing on increasing her speed. She had done absolutely nothing. She wasn't even in the Slums.
She'd visited the castle—which was a royal failure, considering she hadn't been able to get past the guards—before heading off to buy some vegetables and see if she could find a blade sharpener.
And of course, it all quickly proved to work against her.
One person had recognized her, made a fuss, and now half the merchant's circle was trying to catch Celvene.
And really, now, after what had happened at Painted Sky, she had nowhere to go. Nowhere to seek refuge. Her cheek still ached at times from Korvin's slap, and thinking of the situation never failed to bring tears to her eyes. So she didn't think about it.
She could run to the castle, sure, but would they recognize her, even after turning her away before? Let her in? And what was she to do when she got inside?
Risking death, in Celvene's humble opinion, was a more comfortable option. Her options were running out before she was kicked out of her living arrangements, though, so she needed to work fast.
"You rigged the competition! I deserve that crown!
" another voice, male, screeched. She hadn't recognized any of the faces who had pursued her, and that strengthened her worry.
If people she'd never seen before recognized her and wanted her dead, she wasn't going to be able to stay alive for long.
Rounding a corner, she ignored another yell of, "Stop running, calicula! You're only making this worse for yourself."
Her fingers fumbled for her pitiful sack of runespowder, and once she untied it, she increased her speed.
She wouldn't be able to draw a rune while running—she had to put enough distance between her and the mob so she could escape.
When their cries were quieter, she skidded to a stop and whirled around, runespowder already dumped into her hand.
Thankfully, quick rune-casting was emphasized in her academy education as a way to show whether or not a student could memorize different runes effectively.
Within seconds, she'd drawn an ice rune, and she cast it without a second thought before turning and sprinting off.
The crackling of ice from behind told her the rune had worked.
She'd constructed a simple ice wall to deter them or slow them down.
Another rune being cast alerted her to incoming danger. She had to hide, and fast. She didn't know what the spell was, but chances were, they'd bypassed her wall completely, and they'd catch up in no time.
Looking around, she spotted a dark alley, shrouded in shadows.
She hurried into it and came to a stop before her heart sank—it was a dead-end.
While she felt the urge to check if she'd lost her pursuers, she ignored it, sticking to the darkness.
She wasn't going to be able to go back out without them seeing her.
A moment later, Celvene could hear the same angry screams from before, quickly approaching.
She inched her way back, sinking further into the shadows.
A thunderous rumble of footsteps passed by the alleyway, accompanied by several figures.
Celvene held her breath, watching, and didn't dare to move.
Most of the voices faded away, but two stuck around—waiting for her.
Celvene's heart was racing, and she slid her dagger out of the sheathe attached to her leather pants.
Her ears twitched at the sound of something besides the small mob.
All she could hear at first were hushed murmurs.
She looked behind her, and none of the mob had stopped to investigate inside the alleyway—yet.
Chances were, she wasn't going to be able to exit the same way she'd come in; she'd have to go up regardless if she wanted to leave with her head still on her shoulders.
Grabbing onto a brick staircase attached to the building beside her, she hoisted herself up, making sure her movements were silent.
It was easy enough, given her past with acrobatics.
She climbed to the top of the building—a flat gray slate—and when the voices grew clearer, her interest was piqued.
Making sure she was obscured from vision, she crouched down, peered through a crack in the roof, and leaned closer to make out what the two silhouettes were saying.
Her heart raced when she recognized the shape of one of them, and a bitter taste filled her mouth.
A Noriyan soldier?
She couldn't see who was with the soldier all too well; their figure was nothing but a black smear.
The soldier, however, was more than visible.
Her blonde curls fell over her shoulders, and the Noriya city crest, a dragon holding a sword in its maw, was tattooed on her upper arm, colored a variety of red and silver hues.
Her outfit was the opposite of what Celvene had expected soldiers to wear; she'd taken people's word that they wore their armor everywhere.
This soldier wore a simple black outfit that fit her body well, the sleeves bunched up close to her shoulders and exposing her arms. If she didn't have her city's crest plastered on her skin, Celvene wouldn't have suspected a thing, and she had an inkling the soldier believed the potent shadows of the alley to be enough to cloak her most identifying aspect.
The soldier reached into her pocket, and Celvene stiffened.
Whatever the soldier said was drowned out by the rhythmic laughter of a nearby bar, and in the distance, Celvene could still hear shouting.
She lowered herself, careful to remain in the shadows, before dropping to the cobblestone ground.
She landed without a sound, narrowing her gaze.
There was an exit at the end of this alleyway, and unless Celvene wanted to scale a building with no experience in doing so, she had to escape through this path.
All she needed to do was somehow sneak past the soldier and her accomplice.
How could the soldier be so bold? To stroll into Aizasea, a city designed to be protected from Noriya's army, like she was welcomed here?
Perhaps she was being careless, but maybe her fearless showing of her city's crest was something more.
Maybe she wanted others to see her. To know that their city wasn't as stalwart in its defenses as they believed it to be—that it was vulnerable.
For the magical barrier the king's council insisted was impenetrable to be slipped past by no more than one soldier.
But that soldier was putting a lot of trust into anyone walking the streets after the moon rose, especially if she was defenseless, judging by the lack of weapons on her body.
Even if Celvene was no longer stuck in the Slums, the people of Aizasea had their fair share of war, and Celvene suspected many of them would have no issue starting a fight with a single Noriya soldier.
Behind Celvene, she could hear voices approaching. The mob had entered the alleyway she'd just left, but considering she couldn't make out what they said, they hadn't thought to look on the roof yet. And would they look down if they made it up?
The soldier was heedless as she continued to converse with the cloaked figure.
Now that Celvene was closer, she could see a folded piece of parchment resting in the soldier's gloved hands.
Celvene unsheathed her other dagger, the hilts cold in her expectant palms. She didn't know what that paper had written on it—if anything—but she had a feeling it wasn't good.
A Noriya soldier would have no reason to travel into their enemy's territory if it wasn't for something important. And she didn't know what the soldier was capable of—Celvene either needed to get out of there, and fast, or she had to wait and hope the soldier didn't spot her.
But judging by the faint shimmer of green magic surrounding the soldier, she was keeping a hunting spell up.
Chances were, she had sights on everything around the alleyway—including Celvene.
And if so, her position was compromised, whether or not she was on the rooftop.
Her choices were to slip past the soldier, or climb back up to the roof, and one of those wasn't going to be possible without making a lot of noise and drawing the soldier's attention. Celvene stifled a sigh.
Not daring to move yet, she held her breath.
She hadn't even been aware that those from Noriya could come to Aizasea.
Aizasea had its own protective dome, and Noriya did as well, though theirs was actually effective at keeping the city safe.
There were grassy plains swarmed with trees in between Noriya and Aizasea where many of the war's battles were fought, stained red from conquest magic.
So how had a Noriya soldier been able to come to Aizasea, without help?
She supposed it made sense, though. How else would Virion have died to a Noriyan assassin?
The soldier tucked the paper into her pocket. Celvene could see a mask of a dragon covering everything on her face except her eyes, but not much more.
Funny, considering the most important identifying aspect of the soldier was out for the world to see.
Celvene doubted her face mattered as much as her tattoo, though the soldier rolled her crimped sleeves down as her shoulders lost their tension.
The soldier's ego had to be through the roof if she thought no one would see her, but honestly, Celvene had to admire her confidence.
Soft footsteps faded away as the figure the soldier had been talking to walked into the shadows. Celvene waited, biting her lip so hard she was surprised she didn't draw blood.
Walk out. Please.
The soldier's sharp crimson eyes were revealed as she turned to face Celvene. Her gaze leveled into a glower, though Celvene couldn't make out any other facial features. The cold dread that had plucked at her skin, however, exemplified.
The girl's melodic voice sounded oddly familiar, and that was a fact solidified as she said, "Who's there? I could sense you on the rooftop. I know you're somewhere."
Celvene remained silent, flattening herself against the wall.
The moon had set, and there were no light sources on the streets as it awaited the dawn—the light of the stars illuminated the area, and that provided nothing.
She didn't know what spell the soldier was using, but if she had only been able to sense Celvene's presence, there was a chance she wouldn't be able to pinpoint where Celvene was.
The alleyway was wide, and if the soldier was foolish enough to venture into the shadows, Celvene could easily ambush her.
The soldier unsheathed the iron sword resting at her hip. So Celvene had missed her weapon perched on the side that had faced away from her. That made things a little more complicated.
The girl hissed, "I won't ask you again. Come out, and there's a chance I won't slit your throat."
She didn't have runespowder on her that Celvene could see. If she'd used a scroll for her spell, then there was no way for her to find Celvene.
Celvene continued to stay quiet, raising her daggers in anticipation. She didn't want to kill someone. Not again. But if she had to, she would.
The faint smell of blood swirled in the damp air.
The soldier's mouth tightened into a straight line and she flared her nostrils before raising her sword and taking slow steps towards the shadows.
"I can feel you," she said, gaze slowly surveying the darkness. Her shoulders were tense, and her hands were tight around the hilt of her sword. She was scared. Yet, she continued to make her way to Celvene—and she was nearing fast.
When she was close enough that Celvene knew she'd be able to spot her, Celvene didn't waste time in thinking; she acted. In one swift motion, she grabbed the girl from behind and pressed the sharp edge of her dagger against the girl's throat.
The soldier remained still, her body as stiff as a board pressed against Celvene's.
The girl had been expecting this, and if Celvene had to guess, she'd let Celvene grab her.
In the brief struggle, the girl's draconic mask had fallen off her face and clattered to the cobblestone, its crimson hues shining in the low light of the stars.
"What's a Noriyan soldier doing in Aizasea?
" Celvene asked, voice low and dangerous.
She didn't care if the girl's voice was familiar—the soldier was an enemy, and she needed to be treated as such.
Pressing her blade further into the girl's skin, she didn't dare relent her hold at all.
She wasn't letting her guard down; she knew the soldier would fight back at some point.
"None of your business," the girl snapped before rearing her head back. The back of her skull smashed into Celvene's nose and an explosion of pain slapped Celvene in the face as her grip faltered.
So much for being prepared.
Next thing she knew, she was on the ground, daggers out of her hands and clattering onto the road. The girl was now standing over her, one foot planted on Celvene's stomach. And not only was she familiar, but she was breathtaking, more than Celvene remembered.
She didn't know how she hadn't realized it before. Perhaps because they hadn't seen each other in years. But she knew she'd never forget this soldier. She'd believed the girl could do no wrong. But those years of shared laughter and friendship had vanished the moment she'd moved away.
The girl's eyes were bright and vibrant, the same shade of the blue sky right before storm clouds rolled in.
Just as stunning as the first time Celvene had seen them.
A light dusting of freckles flecked on her flushed cheeks, stars buried in her sandy-colored skin.
Her lips were parted as she glowered at Celvene, huffing.
The moment their eyes connected, gray against blue, the girl's eyes widened.
"Celvene?" she whispered, voice quivering.
In response, all Celvene could utter was a weak, "Mel?"
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