This was perhaps the wrong thing to say. Accusing your hosts of being barbarians? Not the best first impression. The soldiers all narrowed their eyes at her, and even Dax threw his cousin a desperate look. One that said, Please don’t ruin this.
But Roa came to her defense, pointing out a forge across the square.
Now, Eris walked at Safire’s side. Her hands were bound with rope now, but even this felt awful. The girl’s wrists were brutalized, the cuts deep and bleeding. The rope was clearly irritating them.
Most of all, Safire could feel Eris’s energy coiled tight, as if waiting for her chance to run. It was the reason Safire kept the end of the rope firmly in her hand—to keep the thief from escaping.
“We’ve been trying to catch her for years,” said a sudden voice from beside her. Safire looked to find a tall young Lumina soldier at her side. The chest of his uniform bore the Skyweaver’s crest like all the others. “How did you manage it?”
“Actually,” said Safire, her attention fixing on something in the distance, “she caught me.”
Beyond the rooftops lining this square, a black and solitary tower rose up into the gray mist. It seemed to never disappear from view. No matter how many streets they turned down, it was always there. Watching over them.
As Safire told this young man the story, there was a sudden tug on the rope. Safire’s gaze shot to Eris, her grip tightening. But the girl had merely tripped over the heel of the Lumina in front of her.
“Don’t worry,” said the soldier at Safire’s side, sensing her unease. “We’ll be at the citadel soon. So long as this crowd lets us through.” He winked at her. “I’m Raif, by the way.”
Eris cast a look their way.
“I’m Safire.”
“I know.”
Safire looked up into gray eyes framed by blond lashes. Raif smiled down at her.
“You’ve arrived right in the middle of Skye’s Night,” he said, stepping closer.
“Oh?” said Safire, feigning interest as she felt another tug on the rope and turned to find Eris scanning the square now. As if looking for something.
“Do you know about Skye?” asked Raif. “The girl who fell in love with a god?”
Skye. She shook her head, despite recognizing the name. It was carved into Eris’s spindle.
“She’s something of a legend in the Star Isles.”
If Skye was a legend, surely there would be lots of girls named after her. That spindle could belong to any number of them.
“Skye’s Night is her festival. It’s a day of promises and betrothals”—he smiled mischievously—“and a night of secret unions.”
“It’s a drunken orgy,” Eris muttered from beside her.
Safire looked around her. Ribbons and petals danced through the air. They passed a priest performing a binding, then a circle of couples dancing, their faces smeared in silver. The women wore flower wreaths on their heads as their partners led them in the steps of the song.
Soon the crowd thickened, then thickened again. Safire watched Dax and Roa grow smaller up ahead. But Raif and two other Lumina soldiers remained behind. And all the while Raif smiled at her and told her about the city. How it was built a thousand years ago, after the defeat of the Shadow God. How the empress’s crest—which he proudly wore across his chest—was symbolic of the seven Star Isles, as well as the seven stars in the Skyweaver’s crown.
Last of all, he told her he knew where the most beautiful beach in the world was, and, if she wanted to see it, he could take her to watch the sunset sometime.
Beside her, Eris smirked. “Trust me, Raif, she’s not the sunset-watching type.”
Safire turned to face her. “Is that so?”
“You’re not,” said Eris, staring straight ahead.
She was trying to provoke Safire. Messing with her mind again. Safire knew the best thing to do was ignore her. But there was something in her tone. Something almost possessive. Safire couldn’t let it go unchecked. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
Eris’s mouth curled to one side as she looked ahead to the backs of the Lumina marching before them. “You’re not that difficult to figure out, princess. Order, routine, control . . . these are the things that excite people like you. Not spontaneity. Not beaches and sunsets.”
An angry blush rose to Safire’s cheeks. “People like me.”
“Aye,” said Eris, catching her gaze. “People like you. You’re as predictable as a rock.”
Safire’s anger roiled and churned inside her.
But what did it matter what Eris thought of her? She was a thief and a murderer. She was nobody.
Raif turned the corner in front of them.
The moment Safire turned it, too, though, she nearly barreled into him, taking Eris with her. Before she could look to see why he stopped, he put his arm out, pushing her back. Safire glanced up over his shoulder, and found the reason.
Five Lumina soldiers stood some ten strides away, dressed in black, light glinting off their blades. They stood in a circle as one of them beat some kind of club against what looked like a sack of grain.
When Safire looked harder, she realized it was a young woman.
She froze, staring as the club swung down, again and again. The sight sent a memory slicing through her. In an instant, she was back in Firgaard. Barely fourteen years old. Curled up on the mosaicked tiles of the palace floor. . . .
The dark shapes of Jarek and his soldats stood over her, their boots finding their marks in her stomach and back, her shoulders and legs. Places people were less likely to notice the bruises. With every blow, pain burst through her. But she would rather the blows than the names they called her. Horrible, disgusting things. The same things they called her mother.
And then, like she’d stepped right out of an old story, Asha was there, dressed in her hunting gear, splattered with dragon blood. Her black eyes were wild as she gripped her throwing axe in one hand, screaming at them. Screaming things twice as horrible as the things they’d screamed at Safire.
Raif spun on his heel, grabbed Safire, and drew her—and Eris along with her—out of that quiet alley faster than she could draw breath. The crowd hummed around them once more. But the past had Safire in its claws, and it wasn’t done with her yet.
Dax stood behind Asha, the storm in his eyes belying his calm demeanor, suggesting he wanted more than anything to draw his weapon and join his sister. Instead, his knuckles tightened around the hilt of his undrawn sword as he stood between the soldats and the two girls at his back, using himself as a shield.
Raif took her arm this time, jolting Safire out of the memory. “Keep walking.”
It didn’t matter that her cousins came to her rescue, though. The next day, those soldats returned to their stations, waiting for the next moment to strike. And if they didn’t return, others just like them did. But that was never the part that stayed with Safire.
The part that stayed was Asha and Dax, coming to her aid, always.
Who did that woman have coming to hers?
“She needs our help,” said Safire.
“Trust me,” said Raif, staring straight ahead. “That woman’s beyond our help. Just keep your head down and walk fast.”
“I’m with Raif on this.” Eris’s solemn gaze met hers. “That woman is as good as dead. You will be too if you interfere.”