Chapter 53 #2
As guarded as she is, I can see the hunger in her gaze as she looks at the food. I take a step back, motioning to it. She doesn’t move, but I have a feeling once we leave she won’t hesitate to grab it.
“I just want to know what’s happened here,” I say softly. When she doesn’t answer, I add, “I used to come here—every week for years. There was a tradesman I was close with. Linnick.” My throat closes when his name rolls off my tongue.
The woman’s eyes widen in recognition, and she nods for me to continue.
“I’ve never seen Runnswick like this; it isn’t my market.” I swallow. “Isn’t Linnick’s market.”
The woman presses her lips together, considering my words.
Finally, she croaks, “They’re all gone. We were told they volunteered for the army, but…
” Her eyes mist over, and she leans toward me slightly, voice a whisper as she says, “It was like they all just disappeared. One day everything was normal, and the next…poof. Gone.”
The edges of my vision blur, head swimming as her eyes dart back to the food. I give her a brisk nod and stumble back so she has room to take what little provisions we had left.
It isn’t enough—nothing would be enough.
The woman snatches the food from the table before disappearing into the ruins of the market.
Her words fill my mind.
It was like they all just disappeared. Poof. Gone.
We were told they volunteered for the army.
My chest heaves, and my eyes sting as tears flood them. Something happened here—something terrible. And I wasn’t here to stop it.
Moros. This had to be him. His dark magic, his corruption.
A hand lands on the small of my waist, and I rear back, heart pounding from the shock of the touch.
Worried emerald eyes stare down at me, scanning my face. “Breathe for me,” Graylen rasps. “Focus on me.”
He doesn’t ask why. Doesn’t question my reaction or tell me to calm down. He stands with me patiently, gaze piercing my heart and breaking through the haze.
When my thoughts start to clear, I realize how close we are—how close we shouldn’t be. My eyes snap to the soldiers still standing with Adrian at the edge of the market, but when I see them focused on him, not us, my shoulders instantly relax.
Adrian’s arms flail in the air as he motions to the empty stands. It’s so quiet that I can hear his shouts of anger from here.
“What the fuck happened while I was gone?” he demands.
Whoever answers responds in a much softer tone, the reply lost with the distance separating us. He’s likely getting the story that Moros wants everyone to believe.
A story that Adrian will likely accept. How could he not? He doesn’t know what Moros has done, and he has no reason to mistrust his own soldiers. I can’t blame him for swallowing every lie they shove down his throat.
“You expect me to believe that?” Adrian shouts, gripping the back of his neck. “This was people’s livelihood! Their only means of survival.”
My brows flick up at Adrian’s anger, palpable even from here. Maybe he learned something on our trip here after all.
“And you’re telling me—your king—that they all just…what?” he scoffs, eyes skittering over the market. “Agreed to fight for our kingdom?”
Graylen and I share a look, one that says we don’t believe that for a second.
Adrian’s voice evens out, no longer loud enough for us to hear.
“Fighting for this kingdom,” Graylen growls. “More like fighting to escape it.”
Images of King Avalon’s funeral pour into my mind, of the riot that broke out—desperation and heartbreak and rage sizzling in the air like roaring fire.
No. The people of Crea wouldn’t fight for the crown. Maybe if they were frightened enough, but not for Crea.
I shake my head, my jaw locking as I nod in agreement.
On our way across Crea, nothing told the tale of a kingdom preparing for war. Though unfamiliar, it all felt like business as usual. Bars full and trading happening in the squares.
So what happened to everyone here? Why does it feel as if the entire town was ransacked? Just as the woman with the child had said, it seems everyone merely disappeared.
Graylen and I start back toward the group, my gaze snagging on a familiar stand.
My heart lurches.
In the daze of running through the rows, I didn’t realize where my feet had taken me. It wasn’t down a random path. Somehow, my muscles remembered the route without me meaning to.
I knew these stalls forward and backward, most of the tradesmen local and here every day in the same spot.
But this spot? It’s one I knew better than any other.
The memory washes over me with the force of a tidal wave. A soft chuckle carries like a ghost on the wind, followed by the tangy scent of lemons.
My throat tightens as my eyes glaze over.
A low rumble of thunder travels across the sky above me. I hardly feel it as the first drop of rain begins to fall. It’s a light sprinkle, just enough to wet my cheeks and dampen the fabric covering my shoulders.
I reach out for the now-rotted wood table. There’s a gaping hole in the center of the back right leg, making it lean to one side.
My fingers brush across the rough surface, and I can practically see Linnick standing behind it. His bright smile warming my chest as he tosses me a strawberry from his garden.
His voice is like a haunting echo. If I listen hard enough, I can almost hear him say what he always said on days like these. “Rain is always a good day on the farm.”
The pain in my chest begins to flicker into something new. Something harder.
Linnick would tell me to stay strong—to do what’s right. Whatever awaits us in the castle, I can’t forget what I’m fighting for—who I’m fighting for.
I’m fighting for the only home Linnick had ever known. I’m pressing ahead for the little boy with quick fingers and a toothless grin. For the Sarahs and Milos—who are goddess knows where now.
And I’m going to find Opal—someone I can still save.