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“Could you take us to them?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly at the weight of what was to come if he said yes. I had not seen Hollis or Tarian since the day we had shared the battlefield, and the last image of Hollis I had was her being hauled out of a muddy puddle after she had fallen from Aepein’s back during battle. Whilst my heart sang at the news she was still alive, my stomach turned uncomfortably at the thought of seeing her again.
It was a very sickening, uncomfortable feeling.
Maeteo nodded, and I let out a heavy sigh as I turned back to Cyrus.
“Get a guard to unlockhis doors.”
18
Kira
Sweat slid down the back of my neck as I stood waiting for Maeteo to open the sewer grate.
He had been so nonchalant as we walked through the city. His hand shoved deep into his pockets and his head tilted back slightly as he took in the sight of the busy streets. We had decided against bringing guards, knowing it would only bring us too much attention, but as Cyrus and I followed behind Maeteo in the afternoon sun, I wished we had at least thought about bringing a carriage, even just for some protection from the heat.
Cyrus did not seem to be fairing much better than myself. I could see the sweat dripping down the front of his face, clinging to the end of his nose and falling onto the deep, black velvet of his cloak. He had insisted that we wear cloaks rather than let Leo place a spell of glamour on us so we looked different, and the regret onhis face would have made me laugh if I was not certain I was about to collapse from heat stroke.
Whilst the emerald green of my own cloak was beautiful, it was stewing me alive.
I slowed slightly to watch a little girl in front of a baker’s stall, her little fingers tugging on her mother’s skirt as she pointed to a tray of freshly filled jam tarts. The mother shook her head, and the little girl’s mouth fell into a pout, but she let go of her mother’s skirt and followed her away from the stall. I put a hand on Cyrus’s arm, pulling him to a pause beside me.
Staring down at me with a look of curiosity, I gestured for him to wait, and weaved through the busy street to the baker’s stall. Taking a golden coin from the pouch attached to the inside of my cloak, I bought three of the tarts, thanking the baker without lifting my head high enough for him to see who I was.
Turning on the spot, I barely managed to spot the girl and her mother as they moved through the busy streets. I cursed under my breath, holding the bag with the tarts in one hand and hoisting up the skirt of my dress with the other, taking off at a not very elegant jog to catch up with them.
The sound of the girls whining reached me before I was close enough to touch them, and even though the sweat was now dripping into my eyes, I sped up slightly.
“Excuse me, sorry,” I called, my breath coming in fast pants. The mother looked over her shoulder, a look of annoyance on her face.
“What is it?” She snapped, looking down her nose at me as she clutched the little girl closer to her. I huffed out a breath, letting go of my skirts and holding onto the worsening stitch in my side.
“I couldn’t help but notice this young lady eyeing up the tarts back there,” I smiled down at the girl, her black hair pulled tightly into a bun atop her head, leaving her perfectly round face open. Her cheeks flushed, and the mother tutted, but I crouched down in front of her. “Tarts are my favourite, too.”
The girl’s face lit up as I held out the bag I had been carrying, the smell of strawberry and warm pastry floating into the air around us. The mother put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, pulling her back and glaring at me.
“We do not need charity,” She spat, and I stood up straight again, pulling my hood back just enough to let her see my face. Her eyes widened, and a bright red flushed her chest and up her neck.
“Not charity,” I smiled softly, holding the bag out again towards the little girl, “A gift. From your Queen.”
“Your Majesty! I’m so sorry — I didn’t know —“ The mother stumbled over her words, dropping low into a bow and knocking over a stand of oranges. People aroundus turned to see what the commotion was making me pull my hood back over my face quickly.
“Please, don’t.” I said, placing my hand on her arm and guiding her back upright, “Just enjoy your treats.”
The mother nodded, her face still flushed red, and I leaned down to the little girl again, her mouth already covered in strawberry jam from the nearly finished tart she clutched in her hand. I chucked her under her chin and grinned at her.
Turning on the spot, I walked back towards where Cyrus and Maeteo were waiting for me. Cyrus was leaning against a streetlight, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He was shaking his head slightly, but he grinned when I returned to them, slipping his hand into my own. Maeteo rolled his eyes, bouncing from foot to foot where he stood.
“These people are lucky to have you as their Queen.” Cyrus said into my ear quietly, and I blushed under the cover of my hood.
“I know,” I quipped back, making him laugh as we took off after Maeteo again, moving faster now.
Maeteo led us down a side alley, the noise of the city center starting to fade slightly as he made the twists and turns through the not yet open taverns and shipping containers. The polished stone of the city streets were gone, replaced with stone covered in things I did not want to know about, and the smells of freshly baked goodswere replaced with urine and warm beer. I crinkled my nose, fighting the urge to gag.
Finally, Maeteo stopped.
The metal manhole cover looked so unassuming I wondered how many people walked past it every day without knowing what was under their feet. Maeteo crouched down, and with a grunt of exertion, managed to push the heavy metal over to the side, opening the hole in the road for us.
Standing with a grin on his face, Maeteo gestured for me to go first.
