Page 77 of Aryn

The guards stop us, exchanging words with Ronan and Aryn that I can’t understand. They eventually wave us through, but I don’t miss the way the Lu’Mite’s forked tongue slips between her lips as I pass. It’s creepy as hell, but I hold back my shudder for the sake of diplomacy.

The smell and sounds of a real town hit me all at once. Thralune feels alive in a way nowhere else has. People chatter and laugh, a few bicker over prices, and the noise makes me feel a little more at home, even if it’s a far cry from the city I’m used to.

Most of the buildings are dark wood and weathered stone, with thatched roofs or the same slate shingles we saw at the farm. Windows are made of thick, warped glass, and smoke curls from so many chimneys, it causes a slight haze to hover overhead. Instead of sleek and modern, it feels like something out of a fantasy novel.

And the smells. They hit my nose faster than I can sort them. Fresh bread, cooking meat, and burning wood, all mixing with the stink of the stables to our left. A quiet laugh leaves me as I realize I’ve missed the smell of shit.

The path down the center of town looks like it was cobblestone at one point, but it’s so old and beaten down, it’s mostly packed dirt now. Merchants line both sides under wooden awnings, shouting at buyers as they pass. A large vendor sells baskets of produce, and the one beside him holds up thick woven blankets and clothes. There’s a stand of tiny bottles of glowing oils next to a display of silver jewelry, and another has hot meat pies that smell so good my stomach growls loud enough for Aryn to hear.

Further down, a restaurant sits on the corner. Giant, burning braziers sit between tables, and bundled-up monsters of every color chat while they eat. The building beyond has a wooden sign swaying above the door, but I can’t read what’s written there.

At the far end of the square is a two story building that looks like an inn. It’s the biggest place here, with lanterns hanging on hooks along the porch and faint music from inside drifting out into the street.

The whole place has a rugged, lived-in feel that’s weirdly comforting, even with my unease about not understanding a word anyone’s saying. People move around in heavy cloaks and furs, mostly minding their own business. A few glance our way, but no one looks hostile. A group of kids stares openly, nudging each other and pointing at me and the other humans like we’re some kind of spectacle.

I fight the urge to snap my teeth at them and give them a show.

Barely.

Aryn stays close beside me the whole time and catches my eye. “I know it’s not exactly Atlanta…”

“No,” I agree, “but it’s actual civilization, so I’ll take it.”

Ronan pulls us off the main path, biting his cheek as he thinks. “I have no idea what things cost anymore, or what the coin Thulga gave us is worth.”

Aryn glances around at the merchants. “I can go talk to some folks. It’s been a long time, but I lived in this world for the longest. I can be discreet.”

“You act like Ronan won’t be,” Cameron says with a smirk.

“How do you think that would go if he tried?” I ask.

Cameron chuckles and drops his voice into a growl. “I demand you tell me the value of this coin. Do not lie to me, or I’ll know it.”

Ronan rolls his eyes toward the sky. “You act like my time in the military didn’t require me to be diplomatic.”

“Of course it did,” Cameron fires back. “And that’s why you had Elas.”

Aryn grins to himself, his eyes catching mine. “Don’t cause any trouble while I’ve got my back turned.”

“Me?” I demand, placing a hand on my heart. He lifts a brow before turning away and heading into the marketplace.

“So, what’s going on with that?” Cameron asks once Aryn’s out of earshot.

“Hmm?” I hum, pretending I don’t know exactly what he’s talking about.

He laughs and swats my forearm. “Oh, don’t play coy. You guys didn’t tell a fucking soul when you were marked, and he hasn’t left your side long enough for me to get any real information out of you.”

“There’s not much information to give,” I say with a shrug.

“Ahh,” he drawls. “You’re fighting it.”

“I’m not fighting it,” I argue. “It’s just…”

“Complicated?”

“So fucking complicated,” I mutter.

He hums like he gets it, watching the crowds for a beat before he speaks again. “I’ve been there, you know. Felt all that stupid shit you’re feeling right now.”