Anaya bit her lip, but nodded. Then she spoke in a rush. “I actually came this way to tell you that Evaine is taking me to Sylvet tomorrow. We’ll be gone for a week.”
He blinked. Anaya was leaving Crisanth? Venturing through the woods—through the Cryptic-infested, deadly woods? He had a hundred questions. Were they taking guards? Were they leaving early enough to reach Sylvet by dark? Would they pack enough torches, in case they got caught outside at night? Cryptics hated light, but they would still attack if they were big and nasty enough. What if one attacked?
“Evaine’s going to leave a basket of food inside her window for you,” Anaya continued. “You know the one. Please promise you’ll—”
Clank, clank, rasp.
“Anaya,go!”
She bolted, rewarding him with one last glimpse of the fastest pair of feet in Crisanth. She still had it, all right. Anaya sprinted away and around the corner just as the guards came into view.
“HEY!” Rolan shouted, ensuring their eyes went directly to him and not to the flash of linen skirts and apron strings vanishing around the corner.
Rolan swung in his humiliating position and put on the widest grin he could muster, given most of his blood had drained into his head. He watched the three guards approach slowly, clanking and rattling like a barrel of kettles rolling downhill.
“Evening, gentlemen,” he said brightly.
But in his chest, his heart was pounding. His palms had begun to sweat. These weren’t just any guards. The one in front, with a face like an old hound’s, was Hoff. The guard captain.
Rolan’s mortal nemesis.
- CHAPTER 2 -CONSEQUENCES
Well, well,” drawled Hoff. Taking his time, he picked at his teeth and considered the boy strung up before him. “If it isn’t Rabb Strider’s little whelp. I see you saved me the trouble of chasing you this time, boy. My thanks for that.”
“Anything for my favorite guard captain!” Rolan attempted a salute, but he was getting dizzy from hanging upside down for so long. He worried he might pass out. That would be one humiliation too many for today, even by his standards.
“Vandalizing a lamp, are we?” Hoff’s eyes drifted upward to the flame Rolan had failed to put out. “That’s a serious offense, boy. Very serious indeed.”
Of course it was, in a city that feared shadows more than wildfire.Rolan knew what horrors shadows could breed, even the smallest pools of them hatching nightmares. All a Cryptic needed to manifest was a patch of darkness, a smudge in a corner.
Rolan could have focused on a less dangerous prize. The bakery sign, perhaps. Or he could have put a rock through the window—though it seemed a shame to get glass all over the lovely loaves inside. Finkfloss was a miserable scab who nevertheless baked adivineloaf of bread.
But if he wanted to impress his father, he needed to prove himself. He needed to take risks. Make a statement. Be so outrageously brazen that Pa would finally realize that Rolan could be anassetto him. He could be more than just an annoyance to be kicked, a stray pup running underfoot.
“Cut him down,” Hoff ordered.
One of his men lifted a crossbow and firedfartoo casually for Rolan’s comfort. The bolt was aimed true—if hair-raisingly close to Rolan’s foot—and sliced through the rope.
Rolan fell hard, a jolt of pain flashing in his arm as he hit the street. It took him a moment to catch his breath before he could drag himself upright. The world spun as his blood rushed downward into his tingling limbs. Leaning on the lamppost for support, Rolan glared at Hoff.
“Rude. You coulda caught me, at least.”
He tried to take a step and immediately regretted it when his head spun and he pitched forward, right toward the guard captain. Hoff stepped aside, letting him smack onto the road with a groan.
“Assaulting an officer of the law, now?” Hoff growled. “Keep piling the offenses up, boy, and you might trip right into a noose.” Hoff knelt down to peer more closely at Rolan. He softened his voice toa friendly tone. “You’re in a spot of trouble now, no doubt about it. But how about we work out a little deal? I can make all this go away.”
Rolan clenched his jaw, knowing exactly what Hoff wanted from him. Staring at the man defiantly, Rolan said nothing.
Hoff smiled, as if they were just two reasonable folks having a polite conversation. “Where’s your pa, Rolan? Where’s old Rabb hiding out these days?”
“Rabb?” echoed Rolan. “Who’s that? Never heard of no Rabb.”
Hoff’s face darkened a shade, anger flushing his ruddy cheeks. “Listen here, boy. This can go well for you, or it can go very, very bad indeed. Your old man don’t care about you. If he did, would you be out here stealing bread and lamps and making a menace of yourself? Nah. You don’t owe that old scab anything.”
He does care about me,Rolan thought.You’ll see.
All he had to do was convince his father of his usefulness. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. He could help in his pa’s business. What business that was, exactly, Rolan wasn’t sure. He knew it involved a lot of sneaking around and breaking into places and avoiding guards, but the details weren’t important.
