Garrison soldiers flooded into the market. Rill got to me first and grabbed my arm.
“Always making trouble, little witch. I still owe you for Springmarket, and here I find you in the middle of the market, fighting strongholders.”
“You’re going to want to release her.”
Rill snorted, kept his gaze on me. “Says who?”
“Says the Prince of the Western Gate.”
Rill went very still and glanced around to find said princestaring down at him. He took in the glare, the jacket, the boots, the Moriad shining in the torchlight.
Rill let go of my arm and stood straight. As with other weaker animals facing down a predator, he puffed out his chest. “She’s a witch, using magic to hurt strongholders.”
A few strongholders had gathered around now, watching the garrison with arms around loved ones or make-do weapons still in hand. “She saved us!” an older man shouted, his face as wrinkled as an old apple. “And you didn’t do shite! Stayed in your garrison and let us all die.”
“Listen to the strongholders, Rill,” the prince said. “That way, I can give you the benefit of the doubt instead of concluding that you’re working with the Aetheric practitioner.”
“Look at all this damage!” Rill insisted.
“Are you muddle-headed or just lazy?” the prince asked. “A battle took place here, and your soldiers did nothing. We nearly had the culprit, and you chose that moment to beat your damn drums, which alerted him to our presence. His escape is on your head, and now you’re trying to arrest one of the people who fought him.”
Rill huffed but let go of my arm. “We don’t fight peasant magic.”
“From what I can tell, you don’t fight anything. Your strongholders have now been injured several times because you’re lazy or actively villainous.”
“Actively villainous,” I called out. “Especially if you’re a young woman in the stronghold.”
“Lies,” Rill said, and there was poison in his eyes.
“Yue,” the prince called out, and she ran over.
“Your Highness?”
“You’re now the acting commander of the garrison.”
Rill sputtered. “You can’t do that.”
“Can and have done.” He pulled a silver square from his pocket, similar to the one he’d given me in the palace, and handed it to her. “Keep who you want, dump the rest. Either way, get some order here.”
Yue looked at Rill. “Everyone gets one chance, starting now. You want one, or no?”
“I—” He looked back and forth between us, apparently hoping to find an ally in the crowd. But there were none, and he apparently realized there wouldn’t be coin, either, if he lost his position.
“Madam,” he said, and offered a deep bow. The deeper the bow, the greater the fear, my father had said.
“Acting commander,” Yue corrected, and began to give out orders.
The prince came to me and looked me over. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just a bump on the head.” And then I remembered my attacker. “Wren—”
“There,” he said, gesturing to the other side of the road. “She’s all right.”
She was sitting in front of the bookseller’s shop. Galen sat beside her, an arm around her waist to keep her upright.
I ran to her, crouched in front, and touched her hand. Her skin was boiling hot, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow. “We need balm.”
“I’ve sent someone to fetch Sanj,” Galen said.
