Galen took a step closer, clearly uncowed. “You will appear at the palace at dawn to explain how this breach was allowed to happen.”
“Says who?”
“Says our liege, the gods-blessed Prince of the Western Gate.”
Rill’s jaw worked as he chewed through possible responses. “I’ll consider your request.”
“Wasn’t a request,” Galen said. “But do consider it.”
As if confirming his authority, Rill adjusted his jacket and pointed at the injured man. “Take him into custody,” he said, and garrison soldiers moved in.
The woman covered the man’s body with hers to shield him. And then Nik stood up, which had Rill’s eyes narrowing at this new threat.
“No,” Nik said, and the word fell heavy as a stone. “You failed to stop an Aetheric attack on a Gated prince. There’s no way you’re taking the witness with you.”
“Aetheric attack,” Rill said with a sound of disgust. “There’s no damned Aether out here. Just charmsellers looking for coin. He’s probably just drunk.”
The powerful could afford to not worry about good luck or bad ghosts. The rest of us lived too close to poverty and ruin to ignore them.
“Try again. An Aetheric practitioner did this damage.”
That had Rill’s eyes popping wide. “There’s been no practitioner here or anywhere else in years. Even if there was, it’s because you brought him.”
“Dawn,” Galen said again.
Rill wanted a fight, but he was at least smart enough to realize he was outnumbered by soldiers and wouldn’t win that battle. So he looked around the market. “Everyone clear out! Home before curfew or spend a night in the garrison.”
The battle lost, Rill strode out of the market, soldiers behind him.
“Are they always so charming?” Nik asked.
The soldiers were no friends of ours, but they were powerful. And in my experience, powerful people allied with each other against the powerless. So I chose my words carefully. “There’s been no prince or commander for half a year. The garrison is the only law here, and he’s accustomed to being obeyed.”
“We’ll see,” Nik said, then turned back to the woman. “Would you like us to send for a healer?”
“We don’t have coin for that. I want to take him home. Away from all this.”
“Where do you live?” I asked. “And what are your names?”
“District. I’m Ferren. He’s Innis. Our home’s near the garrison stables.”
“All right,” Nik said with a nod, then gestured a handful of soldiers closer. “These people are going to help you get home. We’ll send someone to talk to you tomorrow in case your husband remembers anything. In the meantime, we’ll have a soldierstand guard outside your house to make sure no one—magical or not—bothers you. If you change your mind and want a healer, just tell the soldier. They’ll arrange for it; no coin necessary.”
While the soldiers helped the woman to her feet, Nik led me a few strides away. “District?”
“Settlements outside the wall,” I said. “Rougher living, but cheaper than living inside it.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Anonymity was the thief’s best friend, especially when the rich or royal were involved. But I wanted him to know something about me. I kept my gaze on his, noting the length of his dark lashes and the tiny spots of gold in his irises.
“Fox.” I was being more noticeable than my dad would have liked, but the prince’s guards undoubtedly had ways to learn our identities.
“On behalf of the army of the Western Prince,” he said, “thank you for your help. You’ve done a great service to Carethia and the Lys’Careths.”
If Wren was close enough to hear that, I’d never live it down. “You’re welcome. Watch that he doesn’t end up dead. They have a bad habit of doing that.”
“So I’ve heard. Goodbye, Little Fox,” he said, then walked back to the second carriage. After a few words with a nearby soldier, he climbed onto the front bench, picked up the horses’ reins, and clucked his tongue to get them going.
