Slade brought up the rear, eyes scanning every passerby like he expected an ambush at any moment. Thorne walked ahead through the maze of stalls without hesitation, cutting through the press of bodies like he knew exactly where we were going.
“How are you doing?” Phoenix asked quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. He’d noticed the tension in my shoulders—of course he had.
I shot him a sideways glance. “I’m fine. It’s just… weird. Being here.”
“Weird how?” he asked, brows slightly raised.
I tipped my chin toward the red-cloaked sentinels patrolling the far side of the square, their armour catching the sunlight like bloodied mirrors.
“The last time I was here—what, over a week ago? —I was running for my life. Those same bastards were chasing me through the alleys.”
Phoenix’s gaze followed mine, his jaw tightening with a concealed smirk. “And now you’re walking the same path with four Shades ready to kill for you.”
“Dramatic much?” I grinned, despite myself. “But yeah. Bit of a shift.”
“You get used to it,” he said, his lips twitching like he was holding back a real smile. “Power looks good on you.”
I caught sight of a small hand darting out from behind a barrel, fingers curling around a bright red apple on the edge of a stall. The vendor didn’t notice—but I did.
I stopped mid-step, forcing Phoenix to pause with me.
“What is it?” he murmured, but I didn’t answer. I was already heading toward the stand.
The stallholder glanced up as I approached, his face breaking into a wide, eager grin when he recognized the company I kept.
“And what can I get you this fine day?” he asked brightly. “Finest apples in all of Varrowmere!”
“Fill a sack,” I said, voice cool but not unkind. “The biggest you have.”
Phoenix raised a brow, watching with mild amusement as the shopkeeper eagerly obeyed, pulling a burlap sack from beneath the counter and piling it with crisp fruit. Once he’d finished, Phoenix tugged free his coin purse and handed over a generous sum without complaint.
I nodded my thanks, then took the sack and casually wandered toward a narrow alley off to the side of the square. Just before I reached it, I let out a soft, practiced gasp and staggered slightly, dropping the bag as if by accident.
Phoenix didn’t say a word—but I felt his gaze, warm and knowing.
I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.
I moved on without a glance back, blending into the crowd. Phoenix fell in beside me again, his stride matching mine with ease.
“You always do that?” he asked casually, not quite looking at me.
“Do what?” I replied, feigning innocence.
He gave a low chuckle. “Drop perfectly good food in perfectly empty alleys?”
I shrugged, eyes scanning the rows of market stalls. “Just happened to trip.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement. A small figure darted from the shadows, snatching the bag with practiced speed. The kid looked no older than ten—barefoot, dirt-smudged, and sharp-eyed. He clutched the sack like a treasure chest and disappeared between buildings.
Phoenix watched it all, then glanced down at me, his voice softer now. “You were one of them.”
I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t have to.
“I know what it feels like to be hungry,” I finally said. “No one should have to steal to survive.”
Phoenix bumped my shoulder gently. “You're not what I expected, you know.”
I arched a brow. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”
