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S,
I know I’ve been terrible lately. It’s just my father told me something that changes everything. Let’s talk. Meet me at our secret spot after bedtime. I’ll explain everything, and maybe we can come up with a solution, together.
P.S. I’m sorry.
~ D
Daimis.
The familiar ache of missing my best friend returns. It’s silly to hold on so tightly to a childhood friendship, but Daimis’s and my friendship was the purest relationship I’ve ever had. My father betrayed me when he turned evil, Des and the rest of Hydenglen put up with me because I’m useful. But with Daimis I never questioned what we meant to each other. Being around him was as natural as breathing.
I carefully refold the note, put it into my pocket, and leave the cave, knowing I’ll never come back again. I don’t care what Desmira says, I’m going to the Southern Isles, and she can’t stop me. She made a mistake thinking I can’t take the scale back from her. She trained me to be the best, and I am. So tonight, I’ll steal the scale, leave before dawn, go to the market, and get my ticket out of Thaaryn. I’m done living in hiding. I’m done being hunted. And I’m done being used and told how to livemylife.
Chapter5
Black Market
Ilay awake in my bed staring at the stone ceiling, twisting the ring around my pinky finger idly, and contemplate what I’m about to do. When I’d come back from the cave, Desmira was already in her chambers for the night. A small mercy. I don’t want to face her, not when I know what I’m planning. Maybe I’m a coward because of it, but I’m a coward determined to live my life on my own terms.
I’ve bathed, eaten a full dinner, and slept a good five hours––not the best sleep, but I feel recharged enough. It’s now very early morning, still a couple of hours before sunrise. The perfect time to getmyscale back. Desmira will never think me so bold as to steal from her. Any and all crimes are forbidden in Hydenglen, the punishment is banishment. Outside the village, it’s only a matter of time before you’re caught by the Steel Guard. The main thing humans have over the other races is their superior numbers. There are patrols everywhere, and they have restraints that can hold magic users. I had to avoid three separate patrols on my way back here. But I’m not coming back anyway, so what does banishment matter?
I’m already dressed in my fighting leathers and boots. I pull the necklace and ring off and tuck them both into the hidden pocket next to the note. It’s never a good idea to go to the market with your valuables visible. The patrons there will have no problem stealing from me—or at least they’ll try to—and I don’t have time to get into any fights today.
I throw off the blankets and rise, strap on my belt with my holsters, and sheath my blades. I wrap a black cloak over my shoulders. I only have one bag, which I throw over my head to rest across my body. Inside the bag are a dress for times when I need to disguise myself as a maiden, enough food for a few days, a skin of water, my saved-up money, Rock’s bracelet, and a bar of soap.
I say the cloaking incantation so I’m invisible and leave my chambers to make my way to Desmira’s. I try not to think about the fact that this is the last time I’ll walk through these halls, I can’t leave room for regret. So, I instead think about the freedom which awaits me in the Southern Isles. I say a small incantation to unlock Des’s door. She should have put a ward on it. But then she trusts me, I think with a bit of shame. I push the thought away and enter her chambers.
Her rooms are large enough for a queen. A sitting room is to the right with shelves stocked with books, all of which I’ve acquired for her over the years, a desk, and two cushioned chairs. The bathing chambers are to the left and straight ahead is the main sleeping area. Desmira’s large canopy bed is in the center of the room, draped with sheer curtains which billow in the breeze coming from a cracked window. No matter how cold it is outside, she keeps it open. She says it reminds her of her home back in fae territory, a place called Crystal Falls. A fire crackling in the hearth battles the cold. The smell of sage and lavender fills the room. She burns some every night, she says to keep the spirits from entering her dreams.
I make my way farther into the room, taking extra care so my footfalls are silent. Desmira is sound asleep. Her face looks swollen and the soft skin around her eyes is red like she’s been crying. But I’ve never seen Des cry. In fact, I didn’t even think the fae could cry. As I gaze down at her, a part of me softens. No matter how angry I am, I know deep down I will miss her greatly. But it doesn’t change what I must do. I turn away from her.
I know exactly where the scale will be. I’ve been in here enough times to know where Desmira stores the important items. I pass the armoire and her chests and go straight to a tapestry of a griffin in a forest of trees and waterfalls hanging on the wall—another treasure I’d acquired for her two years ago. What will Des ever do without her gopher girl?
I pull back the tapestry and find a single stone in the wall with a smooth surface. I place my hand over the spot and push ever so slightly, it gives way, making a scraping sound. I stop and turn to Desmira. She’s still sleeping. I continue pushing, little by little, being patient in the arduous task. One of the most important lessons in my line of work is patience over regret. Finally, a pocket of space is revealed and in it is the beautiful, iridescent green-blue scale. I pull the treasure out and slip it in my pocket.
“No!” Desmira says.
I whip toward the bed, my heart racing. I’ve been caught. She’ll take the scale back and I’ll be banished. Without the money I’d get from it, I won’t have enough to buy a ticket to the Southern Isles. I’ll be back on the streets. The thought sends a shard of despair straight through my heart.
“No,” Desmira says again, quieter. She moves her head from side to side, but her eyes are closed, her expression strained.She’s dreaming.“She’s not ready,” she murmurs. “Not yet.”
I take a few steps forward but stop. A part of me wants to go to her, comfort her, tell her it’s just a bad dream, but I can’t. I close my eyes for a second, whisper goodbye, then slip out of Desmira’s room and the house forever. I can’t stay here, not anymore. I want to live in a place where I’m valued for who I am, not for what I can do for them. A place where I don’t have to worry about the Steel Guard hunting me. Where there are others like me. And yet I can’t help the sadness that creeps in like an unwanted guest at knowing I’ll never come back.
I consider saying goodbye to Elsie and Tuuk but decide against it. As much as we’ve bonded over the years, I just don’t fully trust their loyalties. Trust is a currency I don’t deal in. They might run and tell Des what I’m up to and I’ll never make it to the black market, let alone the Southern Isles. So, I say goodbye to them in my head and leave the way I came, stopping only to tell the tree spirits of my adventure with the Dragon like I’d promised, leaving out the last part of course.
I try my best to ignore the sadness that has crept in like the early morning fog. As much as I’ve wanted to leave Hydenglen, I know the absence of its people in my life will be felt for a long time.
* * *
The black market is in the lower sector of Stonemount Keep, far outside the inner castle walls, but still within the outer wall. I can’t even see the castle from my vantage point. The buildings are too tall and crowded to allow it. The only time the Steel Guard bothers coming to this sector is if they get a tip about a magic user. Other than that, they leave these poor people to their own devices, which means crime is high here. I keep my hood on.
A slight misting rain wets every surface, and the chill suggests it’s going to get worse before it gets better. A little weather has never stopped anyone from coming to the markets before and today is no exception, at least it helps a little with the smell, though not too much. Body odor, farm animals, fish, and spices mingle in the air. The entrance to the black market is through the lower sector’s legal market, which is just opening for the day and already there are hundreds of people walking about with hooded cloaks over their heads and baskets or sacks in their hands.
Stalls of meats, fish, cheeses, fruit, chickens, goats, vegetables, flowers, fabric, trinkets, and more line the streets, which are surrounded by tall apartment-filled buildings. Merchants call out their wares, chickens in cages cluck, babies cry in their mother’s arms, beggars hold out their hands hoping for coins, and people busy on by, filling their baskets with what they need for the week.
The citizens of Stonemount walk with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes. No one talks merrily to one another or offers kind greetings. Verbal interaction is reserved for bartering with vendors or harsh exchanges. It didn’t use to be like this, but when fear and mistrust are the driving factors in a community, it changes people. Most in the lower sector left their farms years ago out of fear of magic users and the shadow demons. They came for the safety of Stonemount Keep, but without their farms, they were forced into poverty.
I look up to where there is usually an old and faded picture of ten-year-old me with the wordrewardunder it. But for the first time in twelve years, it’s no longer there. It’s the third one I’ve noticed this morning that has been taken down. I brushed off the first one as a result of the weather. When I saw the second one missing, I thought it could still be a coincidence. But now that I’m seeing a third one down, I’m sure it was removed intentionally. Maybe after all these years, they’ve given up on finding me. Or maybe they’re trying a new strategy. Perhaps they figure I’ll surface if I think they’ve given up their search. I keep walking, it doesn’t really matter because I’ll be gone for good after today.
