Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Branock
Ididn’t expect to spend my day trudging through the streets of the capital on the first snowfall of winter with my stubborn wife-to-be in tow, but here I was.
“We should go this way,” I called back to Evadine, jerking my head to the left toward the Scarre River.
We spent the last two days preparing for the trip, and had left the palace on horseback a couple of hours ago to head to the west sector, where reports of this old Alchemist and his experiments had come from.
“I’m pretty sure the guard said it was closer to the north, away from the river,” she argued.
“Yes, but the latest statement came from someone who bought a dreamwalking serum by the fishing port. At the river. Like I said.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you always have to be right?”
“I don’t have to be, but I usually am.”
She took a deep breath, looking like she wanted to shove me off my horse.
I nudged my horse’s side and led her to the nearby bridge arching over the Scarre River.
Snow started falling early this morning—nothing too heavy, as our little island in the center of the empire rarely had such inclement weather.
But I had to admit it was beautiful. The broad-leaved trees were full and green as we neared the bridge, laced with snow and thin icicles hanging from the branches.
The fresh blanket of white crunched under our horses’ hooves, and even more snowflakes fell gently from the sky, landing on my gloves and tangling in my horse’s brown mane.
The snow was thicker as we reached the edge of the bridge. Water rushed beneath us, a soothing sound that lulled a small smile onto my face, even with the cold wind it brought. But a second later, Evadine stopped her horse in its tracks. She dismounted and landed in the snow with a muffled thud.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She waved her hand dismissively at me, and I clenched my teeth. Nobody waved their hand at me. I dismounted and tied our horses’ reins to a post, craning my neck to see what got her attention.
As I neared, I heard something. A pained whimper. I couldn’t see over Evadine’s shoulder, but I heard her hum, “You poor thing. It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Evadine, what is it?” I asked, only a few steps behind her.
“A cat. It got stuck.”
“A cat? What are you—” I stopped short when I reached her side. A small cat was perched on the edge of the bridge, its head barely peeking out over the snow. Its paw was stuck in a tiny hole beneath the railing. It looked so fragile. So scared.
A pang shot through my heart as I crouched low to the ground. “Hello there, little one. What have you got yourself into?” I crooned.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Evadine’s mouth fall open. She blinked several times and shook her head, then leaned down next to me. “Here, we need to clear some of this ice away. I think its paw got frozen into the crack.”
She tried to brush away the snow, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her. She jerked away as if I’d burned her.
I cleared my throat. “Hold on.” I pulled out a small leather pouch, faded and worn with use.
It had been my grandfather’s. All Alchemists kept a supply of basic herbs and charms on us, since we needed them to perform magic.
Pinching off a bit of angelica leaf, I placed it on my tongue and murmured, “Incendum.”
Warmth spread from my fingertips and heated the snow surrounding the cat. My hands glowed orange as the snow melted away, streaming off the side of the bridge.
Evadine made quick work of freeing the cat from its frozen grip. She—we discovered it was, in fact, a she—meowed loudly when Evadine lifted her from the snow.
“I’ve got you, sweet girl,” she cooed, holding the tiny black cat close to her chest. Evadine eyed me with an appraising look. “Didn’t take you for an animal lover.”
I matched her challenging stare. “Strange. It’s almost like you don’t know as much about me as you think.”
“I know enough,” she countered.
I stomped through the snow and back to our horses. “Enlighten me.”
“You’re rude,” she started, her footsteps following close behind. I hummed. I supposed she wasn’t wrong about that one. “You think you’re better than me because of what you were born into. You act like consequences don’t affect you, and you can do whatever you—”
A gasp sounded. I jerked my head around to see her free hand fly into the air as she slipped on a patch of ice.
I moved on instinct. With one jump, I caught her before she hit the ground, bracing my arm at her back.
She sucked in a breath, and I couldn’t help myself from staring at her full, pink lips as she slowly exhaled. Her body was soft and small in my grip. My hand wrapped around her waist to keep her steady, my fingers easily molding to her hips.
“Thank you,” she said shakily. Her eyes held mine, that hazel gaze appearing green one moment and dark gold the next.
“I was saving the cat,” I said. She snorted, and my lips twitched. I set her back on her feet and instantly removed my hands from her. “Well, if you’re done insulting me, we may want to get back on track.”
She nodded, a hint of pink spreading from her neck to her cheeks. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip. “I—I didn’t mean those things I said.”
I shrugged. “Yes, you did.” I helped her mount her horse while holding the cat, and as I walked to my own, I quietly added, “And I don’t blame you.”
I knew what others thought of me. I knew how I was perceived. I tried to act like I didn’t care, but the truth was…I cared a little too much.
We passed over the bridge and soon found ourselves on a bustling market street.
Tents were pitched along the cobblestone, with booths of vendors selling various commodities.
Handmade wares like jewelry and pottery, scarves and leather gloves for the winter to come, engraved knives and candles and knitted blankets.
The scent of smoked meats mixed with spices from a nearby bakery wrapped around me like a bubble of comfort.
“Our target is supposedly using one of these booths as a cover,” I pointed out. “We should leave the horses and go on foot.”
We paid to keep the horses in stalls at the entrance to the market, then waded through the crowd of people. I kept glancing over at the little cat curled in Evadine’s arms, nestling its head against her stomach. Fates, it was adorable.
“I think we should name her Frosty,” Evadine mused, looking down at the cat, who was purring contentedly as she slept.
I raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“I. I should name her Frosty,” she corrected herself quickly.
When I smirked, that same blush from before darkened her neck. Whether it was from irritation or the cold, I wasn’t sure, but I found myself wondering what else I could do to keep it there.
Before she could say anything, a commotion ahead caught our attention.
“Please, sir,” a young woman said to a vendor behind the table. She was plainly dressed and gaunt, clutching a basket to her chest with two little girls clinging to her skirt. They faced a stall draped in tan linens that had bags of grain rolling in the dirt.
“You said two measures of grain,” she continued, voice tired and desperate. “I gave you two pieces of silver. You said that was enough.”
A lanky man with a balding head and beady eyes simply shrugged. “Prices changed. You’re lucky I gave you anything at all.”
“You gave me half a measure—”
“Next time, bring more coin. Don’t waste my time,” he cut her off, tone hardening.
The hair on the back of my neck instantly rose, anger coiling in my chest at the way he spoke to her.
The woman’s children shrank behind her as she pleaded, “But my little ones haven’t eaten in—”
The vendor slammed another bag of grain onto his table, loud enough to make the children flinch. My hand was already moving to my leather pouch before I knew what I was doing.
“Move along,” he barked.
Quick as lightning, I placed more angelica on my tongue. “Incendar,” I muttered through gritted teeth. They were clenched so hard, I thought they might crack.
Disgust lined Evadine’s fair features. “Branock, we should give them—”
She stopped short, eyes widening as they fell to the legs of the grain vendor’s booth. Flames had erupted along the ground.
“Branock!” she snapped. “Stop!”
Fire licked up the wood, making the snow on the ground steam as it melted. A crowd formed on the sides of the booth as the vendor frantically attempted to put the blaze out before it spread to all of his grain.
I watched the despair shining in the man’s eyes—the same despair he caused the woman and her children by denying them food.
He deserved to burn. Anyone who thought they could treat others that way, who could turn away the helpless without an ounce of compassion, didn’t deserve that same compassion, either.
With Frosty in one hand, Evadine stepped in my line of sight and put her other hand on my neck. “This isn’t how you get justice, Branock,” she hissed.
Her thumb rested on my jaw, slowly urging me to meet her eyes. They were bright and fiery, with the same anger that was surely reflected in mine. But she wasn’t using her rage for retribution. She was steady, immovable, the anchor to my tempest.
“You need to stop, Branock,” she said, her voice firm.
Slowly, my muscles relaxed. She held my stare, resolution and heat simmering between us for a heartbeat. Two.
Then I reached into my pouch, put a thistle leaf on my tongue, and muttered, “Finiscere.”
The fire was extinguished.
Evadine let out a breath and ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “Fates, would you really have burned his whole stall to the ground?”
“He was taking advantage of that woman. He deserves to pay,” I said, voice tight.
“You can’t always fight fire with fire. Literally. You won’t get your people to follow you if you rule without mercy.”
I examined her closely, my brow furrowing. “What, you don’t think there should be consequences for what he did?”
“Of course I do, but what if everyone thought they could take matters into their own hands just because they don’t like what someone else does? This entire city would be burning.”
She had a point. The same point my parents often made, incidentally. I sighed and looked off into the distance, and my exhale turned into a soft hum.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Just something my father said.” Perhaps there had been more truth in his statement about her being the one to help me than I’d first believed.
The tension died, and with one last wary glance from Evadine, we kept walking down the street. After a minute, she said, “You know, you’ve got a bit of a hero complex, don’t you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s a little endearing.”
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “A little?”
“If you weren’t so infuriating,” she added.
“There she is,” I said with a smirk. “For a second, I thought you were being nice to me.”
She scoffed. “Me? Never.”
We tramped through the snow in—tentative peace? Slightly less hostility?—silence, searching for any sign of this rogue Alchemist’s den, when Evadine threw out an arm to halt me.
“Hold on. There’s something off.”
“What do you mean, ‘off’?” I asked.
“It’s a Shifter thing. Just be quiet for a second.”
This again. It better not be another trapped kitten. My lips thinned into an annoyed line, but I obeyed.
Her eyes landed on the snow, then slowly traced a path of footsteps leading behind the booths. Without warning, she took off toward a lone cottage halfway hidden by the tall, burlap tent of a jeweler.
“This way,” she ordered.
“You do realize this is my mission, right?” I grumbled.
We reached the front door of a brick house.
The roof was covered in a thin layer of snow, and a myriad of potted plants littered the front—gnarled vines and dark stems fighting for their lives to break through the ice, cracked pieces of porcelain lining the ground around them.
A strand of twine with bells attached hung from the door.
It chimed as a gust of wind rushed past.
I stretched out a hand to knock on the door when it suddenly burst open.
An elderly man with a white beard reaching down to his waistband stood in the doorway. Bright green eyes twinkled back at us.
“Hmm,” he said, his voice quivering. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”