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For someone who’d grown up in a kingdom where everyone had the mark and had been told what to expect by family and friends and had known what should happen, plus looked forward to being afflicted by it, it felt acutely new and foreign right now. Its intensity was a bit overwhelming, in fact.
How had Grandpa and Grandma, my parents, and everyone else dealt with this?
Finishing my break, I climbed back into the saddle, clicked my tongue, and urged my mount forward. I couldn’t explain how I knew I was going in the right direction to find him; I just knew. He was this way.
To my logical brain, I’d been wandering aimlessly for the past two days. But my instincts felt on course and insistent, certain they were locked on to the correct target.
My mate had wound around in a loop away from the village, yet now was circling back toward it.
I wasn’t sure if this whole exercise of running off and now returning was because of me, because he’d wanted to evade me, but I didn’t want to take the chance of spooking him again. So I decided to meet up with him in the village and not out here alone in the forest he’d been traveling through.
Instead of plowing forward, toward him, I retreated and planned my approach. Since he was so skittish, it’d have to be an extremely non-threatening, innocent encounter.
Maybe I could act as if I’d been hurt and was seeking his aid. Except he hadn’t struck me as the type of man who helped others.
Ask him for directions?
Accidentally bump into him as we crossed paths? Then start up a conversation about the weather?
God. I had never felt so inept about simply approaching someone before.
I would advance from behind this time, I finally decided, get close before he saw me coming and didn’t have time to run before we were right there, face-to-face, and he could ascertain for himself that I meant him no harm, not in any way. Quite the opposite, in fact. The rest of my life was dedicated to making sure he got whatever he needed.
Waiting for him to arrive in the village was the worst. It was early the next morning before my senses kicked in, telling me he’d moved back into close range, close enough for me to experience some of his stronger emotions.
He felt a wary uncertainty. I think I’d definitely spooked him last time.
I couldn’t do that this time.
Re
turning to the market, I felt his fear and then his determination as he remained in the bazaar. Was he trying to sell more bread? I hoped so, that would give me the best excuse to talk to him.
I reached the square a few minutes later.
Except...
The man I remembered was not among the faces. My frown deepened as I ruined the covert, stealth part of my search, and I stepped out into the open in the center of the bazaar, then turned in a confused circle. This couldn’t be right. I could feel him. Right here. Somewhere.
How was this possible?
Frustrated, I stopped dead and drew in a deep calming breath. Then I closed my eyes and relied on nothing but the mark to guide me. Following the source of my true love through instinct alone, I tilted my face slightly to the right and let my lashes flutter open.
A dark-skinned girl stood among the throng staring at me with wide eyes. Less than ten years of age with two of the cutest buns high on her head, she edged a cautious step in reverse as if intimidated by me. I offered her a warm smile and a wink, merely trying to calm her. But instead of smiling back, she turned tail and fled into the people.
That’s when I realized she’d had a pack slung over one shoulder, from which she’d been selling bread. A moment later, the sensation in my mark started to flee as well, and I finally realized the girl had been the source of it.
“Son of a bitch.” I darted forward, not sure what the hell was going on, but not about to lose the only clue I had in getting some answers, either.
I had to find that girl.
Maybe the old man had given her a piece of his clothing or something, and the mark was smelling that. I didn’t think that was exactly how the mark worked, but fuck, what did I really know? I’d had my official “first sighting,” as it was always called, only a few days ago. What did I honestly know about the finer workings of any of it?
If I was home in High Cliff, I could turn to just about any stranger and ask for some clarification. But not a lot of High Clifters dwelled in Far Shore, since Far Shore and High Cliff had been enemies until about two moon cycles ago. When Nicolette had taken over the reign, she’d immediately proclaimed High Cliff was now Far Shore’s ally. But that didn’t mean a stampede of them had come to visit yet.
I saw precisely no one else in the crowd bearing a mark like mine. So I guess I was on my own in figuring this out.
Raking a hand through my hair, I murmured apologies as I wove through people, trying to reach the girl. Being smaller, she would’ve squeezed through with much more ease than I.
