I would have thought that would be the end of today’s rather unfortunate chain of events. But no. It isn’t enough that all the rookies now look at me as if I’ve committed treason—by the end of the day, I also find myself sporting a brand-new shiner on my right eye and a few cracked ribs.
I’d barely healed from the last beating, and now there’s another.
Lesson learned. Next time, I’ll keep my mouth shut.
By the time I’m on my way home, I’m dejected by everything that’s happened. Still, I decide to take my chances once more and venture into the mortal district. A bad idea by any measure, but at this point, I can only hope I’ve exhausted my daily quota of bad luck.
Normally, after Elysand’s warning and everything I’ve learned about Zantrax, I would avoid the mortal district entirely. But today is different. Today, my favorite book is being released in bookshops all across the mortal sector.
And for once, I have the money to buy it.
It’s a frivolity—hardly necessary for survival—but I can’t bring myself to resist. It’s the one small joy I have left in this otherwise pathetic life.
Luck, surprisingly, seems to be on my side. I don’t encounter any Zantrax addicts on my way to the bookstore. And as if that weren’t enough, I find exactly what I’m looking for.
The Adventures of Hippo, Volume 9.
I buy it without hesitation, even as I wince at the sight of my coins leaving my hand.
I can’t wait to get home and start reading, but as my stomach rumbles with hunger, I realize I still need sustenance. Even though I’d like nothing more than to leave the mortal district right now, food is undeniably cheaper here than in the rest ofthe city. Keeping my head down, my book tucked securely inside my coat, I walk down a busy alley in search of a restaurant—somewhere I won’t stand out too much.
The last thing I need is another incident.
I choose a place at random and step inside.
The moment I enter, every patron turns to look at me. I mutter something under my breath and, with my eyes fixed on the floor, find an empty seat far from everyone else and sit down. The stares follow me, and I can’t help but wonder—do they know what I am?
Do they see how pathetic and weak I am?
The wounds scattered across my body should be proof enough that I’m not an immortal. Immortals heal at will. I have to endure the pain.
After a while, they seem to decide I’m not interesting enough, and their attention returns to their meals. A male approaches me, looking me up and down. I’m ready to order, but before I can speak, he cuts me off.
He sneers. “We don’t serve vagrants here. You need to leave.”
I blink, staring at him as understanding dawns. That’s why everyone had been watching me so closely.
Do I look that bad? So bad that even in the mortal district, I’m considered bottom of the barrel?
In another life, I might have argued. I might have told him I wasn’t a vagrant, that my money was as good as anyone else’s. But with so many eyes on me, I look away and stand.
It isn’t worth fighting over. I can grab some bread on the way home. That will have to do.
I swallow and nod to the server, stepping past him toward the exit. I take only a few steps before another pair of feet plants itself firmly in my path, blocking my way.
“Dorian, what are you doing?” a woman asks sharply. “Are you chasing away customers? Do you want me to tell our parents?”
I slowly look up.
She stands with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently at the male servant.
“Come on, Mo,” he says defensively. “Look at him.”
“I am looking,” she replies. “And I don’t see anything wrong with him. Go serve the other tables. I’ll take care of this.”
She doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, she steps closer and places a hand on my shoulder. I freeze, stunned. I don’t even dare lift my gaze.
“It’s alright,” she says gently. “I’m sorry about my brother. He can be quite a pain.”
