Chapter 4
There isn’t going to be enough.
I know it, Aunt Lenna knows it, and once word spreads, everyone else will know it too. Whatever water supply Lord Havlon has stored won’t be able to sustain an entire city made up of a hundred thousand people.
Worry gathers in my mind, enough that I can ignore the thirst on my tongue and the strain in my legs as I run.
Luckily, we’re some of the first to know about the offered water, all because we happened to be in the right place at the right time. Aunt Lenna and I didn’t actually mean to join the mob. We were scouring the city, trying to find anything to sate our thirst. But that’s what everyone was doing.
We didn’t find a single thing.
The broth is gone, and the milk, and the wine. The ale, the cider, the mead—all gone. With the exception of the few sealed greenhouses or indoor gardens that managed to keep out the Flies, all other fruits and vegetables were long gone too, so there hasn’t been any juice for ages.
We’d been up and down the city streets, trying to find something, anything, when we joined with the swelling crowd. And it’s a good thing we did.
But not everyone stayed behind to attack Havlon’s manor. They had the same thought we did—get to the water. So we’re racing against a hundred other people with more joining by the second, our goal all the same.
Patrol’s station is near the city’s front gate. It’s where you have to go to apply for permits or to become a permanent resident. It’s where the patrolmen train, where the jailhouse is located, where they set up base.
And that’s where the water is.
Beside me, Aunt Lenna pants, her face pinched. I squeeze her hand in a silent exchange. We’ll get there. We’ll get water.
My aunt may be older, but she keeps pace with me. Before Brekon broke open, fae used to live hundreds of years. Yet with the magic draining out of our earth, it seems to have taken a toll, aging everyone quicker—everyone except for Core fae, who are the only ones to retain the slow aging rate.
But Aunt Lenna is strong and stubborn. Once she sets her mind on something, she’s going to see it done.
I get that trait from her.
We run, no matter that we’re thirsty or that we have dead Flies stuck to our shoes. No matter that a throng of people are running alongside us in growing numbers.
We run.
And Aunt Lenna doesn’t let go of my hand.
My lungs burn, throat scraping with parched breath, our palms gathering a slick of sweat between us.
“This way,” she says, suddenly yanking me to the side, cutting in front of people who shout at us as we veer off the road and into an alleyway.
She’s lived here her entire life, knows every nook and cranny of the city. So I’m not even surprised when she takes a shortcut that zips past another street, down another alley, and has us spilling right out in front of patrol’s station before the throng.
“Are you—okay?” I pant out.
Her face is mottled red, chest heaving, but she nods and points straight ahead. “There.”
I follow the direction of her finger and take in the sight before us.
There’s a wall of armed patrolmen in their brown leathers and iron chest plates. They’re standing in front of the three-story building with tables set in front of it, and people already waiting to get their ration.
I lick my lips in thirst as I spot the clear, glistening jars of water. There are hundreds of them stacked together, with more being hauled out in wheelbarrows. It’s a sight to behold.
And very heavily guarded.
I’ve never seen so many patrolmen out at once. They’re placed strategically to block the water stacks behind them, with some watching the forming line, and even more up on the rooftops surrounding the street.
My aunt and I reach the line, gasping as we skid to a stop. “We made it.”
Seconds later, more people rush up behind us, and within a minute, the line is curling down and around the street, too far for me to see the end. We’re packed in, noise rising, anxiety suffocating. Everyone is desperate to get their share.
But that desperation is kept violently in check.
Patrolmen walk up and down, their swords and whips and bludgeons in hand. Hollering. Striking. Threatening anyone who dares to try anything.
“Please! My son, he needs water!”
I look behind us at the mother clutching a little boy, his face wan, eyes sunken with thirst.
“Get in line!” a patrolman yells at her. When she tries to move up to the front, he grabs hold of her by the collar and shoves her. “Get to the back, or I’ll toss you in a cell.”
She shakes, sobbing as she’s forced to turn away.
Farther down, there’s a shout and the sound of a blade striking. Someone screams. I yank my gaze away, facing forward, unable to keep the tremble out of my hands.
“How many coins do we have?” I murmur to my aunt.
“Seven,” she says, her tone tight. “That’s everything.”
I nod as I watch the person at the front walk away with a jar. The line seems to swell, until we’re pressed so tight I can’t move. It’s loud and hot, and there’s a growing feel of aggression in the air.
“We’re next,” Aunt Lenna announces.
As soon as the person in front of us leaves, we lurch toward the table.
Several patrolmen sit, taking people from the line, and the one we go to has a beard stuffed beneath his helmet and a trunk of coins at his feet. He glances up dispassionately before looking down at his paper again. “Household name?”
“Calyx.”
He nods and scratches something onto the scrolled list. “One jar per person.”
Aunt Lenna and I exchange glances. The jars are large, but even so, they won’t last us for long. “Will we be able to get more tomorrow?” I ask.
“I’m not here to answer questions,” he replies harshly. “Do you want the water or not?”
“Yes, please,” I quickly say. “We have three in our household.”
He glances between the two of us. “Are three of you here?”
My throat swells with nerves. “Well, no, but—”
The patrolman standing at the man’s side lets out a sigh. “Hurry up.”
“Just the two of us,” I answer, gesturing to my aunt.
The man nods, his quill rasping over the paper again. “That’ll be three coins.”
“Three coins?” Aunt Lenna bursts out, her face stricken. “That’s robbery!”
He doesn’t even bother looking up. “That’s the price.”
I squeeze her hand. “It’s okay.”
Three coins is wildly expensive, but we’ll still have four coins left over. We haven’t checked the far-east side of the city yet for other supplies. We can try there later. Or maybe by some miracle, they’ll still have more water tomorrow and we can come back for it.
The other patrolman lugs two jars over, setting them on the table for us. My aunt holds out three coins with stiff fingers.
The man takes them and looks up at her. “No. Three coins each.”
My stomach drops down to my shoes. Aunt Lenna’s eyes go wide. “Each?”
“That’s right,” he says. “So either pay or get out of line.”
Her fist tightens in anger. Tension between the two of them sharpens. One wrong move and I know we’ll be left to bleed.
“There a problem?” the other patrolman cuts in, eyeing Aunt Lenna as he holds the pommel of his sword.
“No,” I quickly say. “No problem.”
I elbow her gently.
With a rigid breath, she slaps three more coins down on the table. The bearded man sweeps them across the wood until they plop into the trunk at his feet, with barely a glance. The greed clangs, echoing in my ears.
One coin. We have one single coin left.
I blink away the burn in my eyes and quickly grab one of the hefty jars while Aunt Lenna lifts the other. But she can’t help herself, and she slathers the side of the man’s face with a glare. “You should be ashamed.”
His head snaps up, eyes narrowing behind his helmet. “Excuse me?”
The standing patrolman takes a step forward, and alarm beats at my heart. “So there is a problem?” he asks, menace dripping off his tone.
“No,” I blurt, shaking my head as I plaster on a tight smile. “Everything is fine. We’ll be leaving now. Thank you.”
I notch the jar against my hip and yank on my aunt’s arm. “Let’s go.”
But the patrolman blocks our way, asserting his power like a brick wall. I look up and meet his eye, and as soon as I do, a constellation flashes upon his chin in the shape of a square. Impudent. Hardy. Lacks commitment.
He seems pretty committed to that glare. And to blocking our path. I just hope he lacks commitment when it comes to taking our water and locking us up.
“I’m so sorry,” I rush to say, feeling sweat gather beneath my veillet. “Tensions are high. Please forgive us.”
Beside me, my aunt bristles, but she has the sense to not stoke the flames further. My pulse pounds while we stand under the weight of the man’s antagonistic glower.
Finally, he relents with a scoff. “Be thankful I’m letting you leave with your ration.”
I nod so hard my neck cracks, and he looks over our heads to shout at the people behind us, “Next!”
Thank the Fates.
The moment he moves aside, we hurry past. Another patrolman motions for us to go to the blockade set up on the opposite side of the road. When we approach with our jars in hand, two more patrolmen shift aside, allowing us to pass.
“Don’t come back this way,” one of them orders. “We have this road blocked off only for those who leave with their ration.” He flicks his gaze down to our jars. “You lose those, that’s your problem.”
I nod and we haul ourselves away, putting much-needed distance between us and the patrolmen.
“Those horrible, disgusting pigs,” Aunt Lenna seethes. “All of them! Following such orders from that joke of a Govern. Getting richer while we die. I hope Lord Havlon chokes on Poisoned mead.”
“Shh.” I cast a nervous glance at the patrolmen behind us, but they have their backs to us, and the road is empty. I let out a blistered breath. “Aunt Lenna . . .”
“Well, that was wrong! Six coins?”
Stress churns in my gut. “I know.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, biting out a breath. “I couldn’t help myself. It’s immoral. Appalling.”