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I felt heat rising to my cheeks.
“Looks like the clothes fit,” he said, kneeling to secure a knife in his right boot. Then he slid a hunting knife into the scabbard attached to his belt and several smaller knives into the bracers on his forearms. The number of weapons he had suggested he was about to enter a war.
“Yes,” I said, noticing that the clothes seemed tailored perfectly to my body. My outfit looked like his, except my ensemble was jet black like my hair, my leather armor slimmer cut, and the belt cinched around my waist didn’t hold any weapons.Yet.
I decided that no matter what Jeddak’s motivation was for helping me, I was keeping these clothes. For some reason, they made me feel more like myself than I had in months.
“Here.” He handed me the cloak. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go find Kah and get some food. He’s already at the tavern.” Jeddak hid his Rathalan sword in the corner and picked up a long wooden staff. In the faint light, it looked like the intricate designs carved into his staff and armor matched the Kovakian tattoos on his skin. He slung the strap attached to the staff across his shoulder, securing the weapon to his back.
I followed Jeddak down the avenue that cut through a long row of vendor booths like a wide river. The rain was back to a slow drizzle. At this late hour, I figured torches would be quenched and people would be bundled up under their quilts, but the Market of End wasn’t asleep. Candlelit lanterns were strung in crisscross patterns above the avenues like low-hanging stars. The handful of vendors open this late held out their goods to passersby, inviting them to take a closer look at their wares. I kept my distance this time.
This place felt strangely familiar, like the bird symbol on the map on my hand. I studied the faces we passed, hoping to recognize someone … or to be recognized. I caught the eye of several strangers, but no one seemed to spare me a second glance. I didn’t give up, though.
Each brightly colored tent, each decorated sign, each potent smell tugged at my attention as I looked for anything that sparked a memory of my life before the mines. But the farther wewalked, the faster my hope faded. If I had been to the Market of End before, my memories of it refused to resurface.
I’d paused to watch one of the Riders of Garandea—the only all-female tribe in Eastlandra—lead her horse down one of the muddy side streets when Jeddak caught me by the wrist.
“Come on, the tavern’s this way,” he said. Faces blurred together as Jeddak pulled me steadily forward, like I’d disappear into the darkness if he let me go. Because my stomach was growling, I didn’t protest.
“Do these people not know about what’s happening in Malengard?” I asked him. It seemed strange that everyone appeared to be going about their daily lives when the enemy was busy building an army practically next door.
“There’ve been rumors, though I don’t think anyone here knows the truth. Many vendors have already left, and others seem edgy and nervous. But I’d suspect if they knew what we know, this marketplace would already be abandoned.”
“Shouldn’t we warn them?”
“Last time I was here, I sent a message to the End Guards. They’ll know what to do.”
I hoped he was right. The Rathalans weren’t going to remain quiet neighbors for long.
Minutes later, we’d found Kah and were nestled by the fire at a table in a small tavern called The Copper Crown. Skullcap smoke billowed from someone’s pipe, making the room smell rich and earthy.
The young Arden barmaid must have noticed how our shoulders hunched against the cold when we came in, because she moved fast to bring us the hot currant tea that Jeddak ordered.
I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and stared at the spiced tea.
“It’s not poisoned,” Jeddak said, noticing my hesitation. He raised his cup and took a big gulp to prove it. When he burned his tongue, Kah snorted loudly.
I suppressed a smile. “It’s not that,” I said, even though the thought had crossed my mind.
“Then what is it?”
“Nothing,” I said. I didn’t feel like explaining to Jeddak that I was trying to remember whether I liked currant tea or not. For so long, I’d believed that if I ever escaped from Malengard, that I’d begin to recall things about my previous life—even just simple things like my taste in tea. But nothing in this marketplace had triggered a single memory so far, and I was starting to feel lost and defeated.
The barmaid brought out our food. We ate in silence, too ravenous and exhausted to bother with small talk. Though Jeddak appeared focused on his food, I noticed him keeping one eye on the other people in the tavern. As if at any moment, one of them could become a threat. I wondered if that was a Kovak thing or a Jeddak thing.
When our plates were scraped clean and the tea leaves collected at the bottom of our cups, I finally started to feel warm. Even Kah looked relaxed and content resting on the floor at Jeddak’s side. Now was the time to get answers.
“Why were you in Malengard?” I asked after Jeddak paid the barmaid. I’d planned to be a bit less blunt, but I couldn’t hold the question on my tongue any longer. All I knew was that he’d bought a transformation spell, sneaked into Malengard, rescued me, and now we were here. None of that explained what he was doing there in the first place.
“Do you normally interrogate people who buy you dinner?” He cracked a smile.
I glowered at him. He seemed quite aware that his charming, boyish grin had the power to stop hearts. Well, notmyheart. Imight not remember what flavor of tea I liked, but I was quite certain that arrogant, impulsive boys were not my taste.
“Yes,” I said flatly.
His smile grew. “I’ll remember that.”
“Just tell me what’s going on,” I said, running out of patience.
