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Already across the next roof, Ace could hear the guardsmen struggling to keep their footing on the shifting clay tiles. She had struggled like that too at one point, but now these roofs were her playground. She’d used them as a way to get around the city unseen, and over time she’d nearly perfected her balance.
The bustle of the market down below slowed as people watched the chase. Though she could feel their attention on her skin she had to wonder if the man who had caught her was still watching too. Or was he cradling that book she needed so badly?
Up ahead, she could see the window that led to her escape. The home there was rarely occupied and she’d used it many times in the past. Ace leaped to the next building. She skittered down the slope of the roof, feeling every bump and curve of the tiles under her feet. When she turned and caught sight of the guards, the three of them were all cursing under their breath.
Yes, they would give up on her soon. She hadn't gotten away with anything really, thanks to that stupid warlock—Shelby, she couldn't even think his name without disgust.
When her feet hit the edge of the roof, she let her body slip past the lip, grabbing the ledge, already bare of tile from her repeated visits, and used her momentum to swing herself into the room.
Overhead the guards shouted as they lost sight of her. Soon they'd be scrambling.
The room she’d entered was made up of a large couch that faced an empty fireplace, half-empty bookshelves, and an old faded rug. Ace didn't know much about the person who lived here, only that they were too busy to be home and that they wore the same size clothing.
Letting out a rush of breath, sweat trickling from her brow, she exchanged the black cloak on her back for a finer robin’s egg blue cloak that was waiting by the door. She tied it at her neck and followed the familiar path from the room. Scurrying down the stairs, she rushed toward the back door.
From the roof above, she could hear the guards still bickering about which one they would send swinging into a stranger’s home. By the time they decided, she'd be long gone. Stifling her shaking fingers, Ace pulled the hood up over her face and stepped into the current of the crowd.
Conversations were overlapped by the sound of prayers rattling off inside of her head. She pressed her lips into a thin line. She could feel her cheeks heating with the reminder of her failure today. The market, however, was open almost year round and that wasn't the only set of warlocks selling grimoires on the street. Some warlocks were privately owned, by the wealthiest of the citizens, but none of them were better than those that were taken in by the queens.
The throngs of people thinned the farther Ace got from the market, but the streets still had enough people that she was lost to their masses. At least then she felt like she could breathe.
Stands were exchanged for storefronts. A florist here. A butcher there. Down the street, a blacksmith pounded away at iron in time with the beating of her heart. On every corner a baker slaved away over their hot ovens making the air smell like warmed bread and sugary pastries. Maipeg was most famous for its renowned bakers.The City of Sugarpeople often called it. You couldn't move more than a foot before running into someone licking jam or icing from their fingertips.
As a child, Ace had loved visiting Maipeg with her family, though she grew up almost a week’s journey away in a much smaller town called River's Bend. She'd always thought the name was silly because the "river" that came and went from the town was really more of a creek. But the place—more of a village anyway—was small enough that everyone knew everyone. Each family was poor in their own way and got by sharing what little they had with the others.
Ace often imagined the town turning to dust and being blown away in a strong gust of wind. She wondered if it was still standing. Without her family there to help provide she was sure they'd be struggling.
Tipping her head, she looked up at the sky. The sun was heading toward the horizon, leaving behind streaks of orange. Ishaan, the shop owner, would be pulling fresh loaves of bread from the ovens soon and that would be her chance to slip through unseen. The short man with a round stomach and deep wrinkles around his brown eyes was pleasant and always hummed while he worked. Ace liked him.
The front door to Ishaan's little bakery was propped open letting a breeze in and the enticing scent of bread out. Ace's stomach growled as she poked her head inside. The space behind the counter was thankfully empty, leaving a clear shot for her to get to the door that would lead up to her makeshift home. She strolled inside. Rounding the counter, she snatched a small pot of honey, then shoved a loaf of bread between her teeth.
Above the storefront, the home was empty… until Ace found it. Ishaan had thought it was haunted by the spirits of the people who owned the building before him and he was only more confirmed in his beliefs when Ace took residence there. No matter how she tried she wasn't very quiet but luckily, Ishaan considered everybumpandthudshe made to be the workings of the spirits.
She grumbled to herself when she found the door locked. A stupid little game she and Ishaan played. She'd unlock the door for easy access. He'd think a spirit was messing with him and relocked the door. That left her with only one choice to get into the home. Climb the lattice on the back porch. Ace tried not to groan at the thought.
Before she could make her way outside, a decorated poster caught her attention. Pinned on the wall, Ishaan was proudly displaying the queens’ announcement that had been plastered all over the marketplace. She supposed it only made sense that they'd stuck it in other places too. Glaring at the paper, she tore it from the tack and crumpled it into her pocket. Whatever this whole husband finding business the queens were suddenly all about she wanted to be well informed. That way she could stay far, far away from it.
Leaving the storefront, she made her way behind the building. There was a tall fence for privacy, though the only people who ever used the backyard were Ace, Ishaan, and sometimes the family that came to visit him at the shop. The gate was always unlocked, which was because Ace had broken the lock and Ishaan had yet to fix it.
Ace peered through the cracks in the fence before letting herself in and heading for the latticework. She held the bread in her mouth and shoved the small honey pot into her shirt before making her way up the side of the building. The tips of her fingers ached as she gripped the tiny lip of the window and forced it open, rolling herself inside. The wood flooring groaned as she thudded to a stop.
Ishaan's humming in the kitchen paused for a moment before she could hear his prayer to keep his shop safe from the angry spirit. She allowed herself to lay there for a minute, sprawling out on the ground, and taking the bread from her mouth. The last of the day's sunlight cast itself upon her, warming her face. Her lashes brushed her cheeks as she closed her eyes and took it in.
When the owner’s prayers had stopped her mind was blissfully quiet for almost a minute before the gods began talking inside her head again. This time she groaned as she sat herself up. Plucking the honey from her shirt, she began to tear pieces from the bread to dip.
Open the announcement, Ace.Greshta pressed.What are these human queens doing?
Oh, don't pester the girl. The more you ask the more she'll ignore you. Let her work it out in her own time.Sylik huffed.
You know I can't do that.
Yes, it's impossible for you to keep your mouth shut. She took the paper, clearly she intends to read it. Perhaps Latsov could lend you some patience.
Latsov was a quiet god that rarely ever spoke. The other gods talked about him often, though Ace herself had only ever heard from him once. The god of perseverance didn't have a whole lot to say and in her humble opinion that was perfectly okay.
The way their voices raised inside of her head caused the ache behind her eyes to pulse. Ace might listen to the gods tonight, not to appease them but to satisfy her own curiosity. She licked at the honey on her hand, but her fingers still stuck to the page as she pulled the crumpled paper out and tried to smooth out the wrinkles.
Before she could read even the title of the page the gods were hissing in disgust. Their voices becoming a hodgepodge of sound that always blended into one.The queens must go. Take the throne. Kill the queens. Nature is unbalanced. They must answer to the gods. Answer us. Yes. They will answer us. Restore the balance. Right their wrong.
