Chapter 18
River and I led the way down the path. When the forest became too dense for the horses, we veered onto the main road—just for now.
As we neared the next village, I noticed an unusual number of people breaking from the crowd, arms loaded with food, clothes, and supplies. We weren’t close enough to the Glade for this to be the safe place Nash had mentioned for the night.
An older man was about to pass us when Rhodes stopped him to ask what was going on.
“It’s market day! Lots of vendors out this evening. Best one of the season, if you ask me,” the man hollered, as if we were hard of hearing.
As he moved past, I noticed his saddlebags stuffed with trinkets.
“We need to pass through quickly. Too many people means we risk being noticed,” Rhodes said.
“I didn’t know about the market day,” Nash added, scanning the crowd. “We should find a way around it.”
Scarlet stayed quiet.
“Or,” I offered, “we check it out. If it’s the best market of the season, someone’s bound to be gossiping about Mageia. We still haven’t figured out how we’re getting into the castle.”
“That is a terrible idea, Fitzroy,” Rhodes muttered.
I ignored him and tightened my balaclava. “You’d be surprised how much information gets spilled over a few pints of ale. A village this size has to have an alehouse. Nash can come with me. You and Scarlet can eavesdrop on the vendors.”
Scarlet’s eyes lingered on me as I adjusted my balaclava, confusion flickering across her face. But she only nodded. “She’s right. We won’t stay long.”
We entered the village and tied up the horses. River disappeared into the trees, keeping to the shadows. At the first vendor table, I spotted a lineup of floppy, hideous women’s hats. While the seller was distracted, I snatched one and tossed it to Scarlet.
She caught it, brows raised.
I pointed subtly at her crimson eyes.
She got the message and pulled the hat low, its oversized brim casting enough shadow to keep her features hidden as long as she kept her head down. Then I slipped into the crowd.
The man hadn’t lied—the square teemed with people bartering and browsing. I glimpsed Rhodes and Scarlet at the tables when Nash grabbed my elbow.
“Over here.” He nodded ahead.
“It’s not fair that you’re so tall. I can’t see anything in this crowd.”
“One of the perks of being me.” He winked.
I rolled my eyes.
We made our way through the crowd and slipped into a worn-down building with a wooden sign bearing a faded pint of ale.
While most of the crowd outside was made up of women, it seemed their spouses had all gathered here while they shopped.
Not a single table was open, and servers bobbed and weaved through the packed room, balancing platters stacked with full pints.
A few men looked up as we walked in, their gazes lingering on me for a second—until they realized I wasn’t dressed to impress.
In my plain smoky-gray leathers and balaclava, the only things visible were my hazel eyes.
The few women in the room were perched on men’s laps, their busts nearly spilling out of bodices that looked two sizes too tight.
I hated men.
But I also despised women, so I don’t know where that left me.
Nash pushed to the bar, claiming a seat that opened up. I followed, eyes sweeping the room.
I didn’t realize how close Nash had leaned until he spoke low in my ear. “You’re being suspicious.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
He shrugged. “Blend in? Act like you’re here to relax. Maybe take off the balaclava.”
“I can’t,” I whisper-yelled. “Father forbids me from showing my face outside the Hollow.”
“Your face, sure. But let your hair down. Stop looking like a spy.”
I reluctantly slipped the cap of my balaclava off, leaving the fabric to cover just my nose and mouth. The breeze against my sweaty scalp was a relief. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to shake the tension.
“Awh, come on, my man! Let the lady have the seat,” a thick, sweaty man slurred behind Nash.
Nash glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Nah. My girl’s got the best seat in the house.”
I didn’t have time to process what he meant before his hands were on my hips, pulling me into his lap so we were both perched on the barstool.
“Act natural,” he murmured as the barmaid approached.
Anger boiled through my veins at being treated like someone’s lap girl. I gave the drunken man a smile that could pass for innocent—if all you saw were my eyes.
“Yes, dear,” I cooed, forcing the most feminine tone I could muster as I shifted my weight on Nash’s lap.
The barmaid asked for our order. I pressed my palm against Nash’s thigh, secretly channeling hidden thorns to jab into his leg.
“Yeah, please—” Nash yelped, jumping from the sting, clutching my wrist and muffling his cry with his other hand. “You’re a tyrant,” he muttered.
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I purred, voice dripping with mock seduction.
The barmaid slid a frosty mug of ale to Nash just as he said, “Oh, that’s not dirty talk. Trust me, you’d know if I were blessing you with my words.”
I rolled my eyes and let my gaze drift across the room.
Villagers in all kinds of attire filled the space—some clinking glasses, others laughing to the music.
My eyes settled on a trio of men in the corner, dressed in leathers like ours.
Unlike the rest of the alehouse, they weren’t celebrating. They spoke quietly among themselves.
I tapped Nash’s thigh, nodding toward the corner.
“They look like soldiers. But not from the Glade,” he whispered.
I leaned back, tilting my head toward him—enough to seem like a lover settling into an embrace. “Do they look like Mageian soldiers to you?”
The music quickened; dancers spilled into the aisles. The bustle masked our scrutiny.
“The stitching on their uniforms differs from Mageia’s… they might be from the Barren Watch.”
My heart skipped. “Why would they be here if they’re from the Watch?”
“Runaways…” Nash said, taking a slow sip.
If they were from the Barren Watch, they might have intel on Tyria’s plans—or why spies had been slipping past the Watch’s defenses. River’s curiosity surged through me, urging me to learn more.
Suddenly, the men stood and headed for the exit, eyes scanning the room—checking if anyone had noticed. I glanced away and snatched the ale from Nash’s hand, swallowing it in one gulp.
“Hey!”
“Let’s go,” I said, tossing a silver coin on the counter as I slid off his lap.
We slipped through the dancing villagers, trailing the men out the exit.
Night had fully fallen while we were inside, giving us the cover we needed.
Nash and I kept just behind the men, pausing at vendor tables now and then to avoid drawing attention.
A few rows down, I spotted Rhodes and Scarlet at a booth.
She still wore that ridiculous hat and was running her fingers along the blade of a long sword, while Rhodes watched her from the other side.
The way Rhodes looked at my sister was the opposite of how he looked at me—and something I’d only seen a few times in the Hollow. Toward me, his expression was pure hatred. I’m used to being disliked—it’s my favorite way to be treated—but his feelings toward me were on another level.
I knew I was one of the many he blamed for the things that had happened to Scarlet, and I was okay with that.
His feelings hadn’t kept me up at night, but there was something about how he looked at Scarlet that twisted my gut.
It hadn’t been fear or hesitation—he had proved he would never harm her when he carried her through the mountains on foot…
Ignoring the strange knot tightening in my chest, I caught a glimpse of the mysterious soldiers as they slipped into the shadows of a nearby alley.
Nash and I exchanged a quick nod, then casually leaned against the brick wall beside the alley, pretending to take a break from shopping.
I edged closer to the corner of the building, inching as near as I could without drawing attention.
“Warren said if we can make it to the—” one man muttered, his voice too low to catch the rest.
“And that’s it?”
“If we’re caught—”
“Then we won’t be. But this is our only option unless we want to be stuck—”
Frustration surged. I leaned forward, inching toward the corner, hoping for a clearer listen.
Nash caught my elbow and jerked me back. “They’re going to see you spying.”
“I can’t hear them. I need to get closer,” I hissed, shaking him off.
He rolled his eyes, scanned the street, then gave a small nod and mouthed, “Go.”
I leaned around the corner again. The men had moved deeper into the alley—too far to make out their words, barely visible in the dim. On my side, a large dumpster sat halfway between us. I crouched and began to move, hugging the brick as I crept closer.
Memories of Father’s lessons surfaced. I was ten when he started molding me into the perfect thief of valuables and secrets. Years of brutal drills in the Hollow led to more dangerous missions—slipping past the eyes of the Barren Watch.
Father has a secret entrance into the Watch, tucked beside a station on the eastern border, with an underground tunnel leading to the northern edge. A hidden path only he and I know—one of many secrets Arrow Fitzroy keeps from the War Chief and General Wylder.
But if we have a way in, then so does Tyria. Spies and soldiers don’t just walk into the Watch by accident. Somewhere on their side, there’s another hidden entrance.
Kalluri and the past War Chiefs might fool the realm—but not me. The Barren Watch was failing. Whether from negligence or deliberate sabotage, I haven’t decided yet.
I slipped into the dumpster’s shadow, pressing to the cool stone just as their voices carried again.
“The drop must be made by the midnight hour at the masquerade,” one said, low but urgent. “It’s the only time the officials will be distracted enough for us to get into Tyria’s stronghold without being questioned.”