“It means everything to me.” The gold cap smiled. “You see, if you’re a danger to the king’s peace, I’ll have to remove you.”
“Buzz off,” the beggar said, blowing smoke in his face.
The gold cap blinked. Smiled wider. Elena saw more gold caps weaving through the pub gatherers. She stepped back.
“What is it that you’re smoking?” the gold cap asked. He sniffed. “Smells like Jantari ganja.”
The beggar laughed, wheezing. “Jantari? Not in my lifetime. Their shit tastes like burnt metal.”
With his attention on the beggar, the gold cap did not notice Elena back away.
“Oh, so you have smoked Jantari hash?” The gold cap grinned as the beggar realized the trap. “And where did you get it?”
“I don’t—”
“Sounds like you have a connection. Maybe you’re a spy.” He grabbed the beggar, yanked him up. “Why don’t we have a chat.”
Elena lingered, torn. Even though the beggar had been crude and insulting, the gold cap was worse. But if she helped the beggar now, the gold caps could discover her. They’d find her pod, her scroll. Her father would learn of her ploy with Varun.
She took another step back as the beggar shouted. No one came to his aid; the crowd had hustled into the pub.
“Sister, are you all right?” another gold cap asked.
But Elena was already turning.
Just find Varun. Then it’s just you and the desert.
“Sister!”
She walked faster, threw a glance back. The beggar was struggling, and the gold cap who had called to her was now gesturing to his friends.
Elena clenched her fists, but she did not slow.Damn them.Her face burned with shame, her chest twisting as she strode farther away. She had no power over the gold caps, not when she was in disguise, not even when she was in her regalia. They ruled the streets without consequence; her father turned a blind eye to their infractions. The flames thrummed underneath her cloak, as if sensing her anger.
Just wait. Wait until I’m queen.
Elena wrapped a scarf around her face as she turned down a street bright with vivid neon lights. Bars lined the entire avenue, and the air was hazy from smoke. A drunk partygoer sang at the top of her lungs. A merchant ignored her and pushed past her with a cart lined with cones of spiced makhana. Elena’s stomach rumbled. The late-night food scene in Rani was the best in the nation, and in her opinion, the best on the second continent. The last time she had snuck out alone, she had gorged on aloo chat to the point that she felt bloated and lethargic in the morning.
“Brother,” she called out to the merchant and realized with a start that it was Eshaant.
“Dealer,” the merchant said warmly. “I know that voice. What brings you here?”
“Business.” She smiled and remembered that he could not see it behind her scarf. “I thought you were to leave for Cyleon.”
“Soon,” Eshaant said. The blue lights deepened the wrinkles on his face, the curve of his grin. “I just need to earn some more coin for the journey.”
“Where’s the chaas?”
“I’ll get to it,” Eshaant said. “But I did make the makhanas spicier.”
“Well, one cone then.”
As he handed her the snack, she leaned closer. “Have you seen a short gold cap with a mole on his left cheek tonight?”
She knew Varun frequented this part of town, mostly to eat and fuck, and had earned a reputation for spending money on boys with pretty green eyes.
Eshaant raised an eyebrow. “You still have business with the gold caps? Dealer, I warned you.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Have you seen him?”
