Her gaze lingered. “Good,” she said, though her tone made it sound like a lie she’d already forgiven. “Because I’ve seen what they do. They don’t heal—they hollow. You think you’re saving someone, but all you’re really doing is trading their pain for your own.”
“I’ll worry about the cost if I have to.” The words tasted like iron, a promise I didn’t know how to keep but couldn’t swallow.
Colette tied the bundle of herbs with twine, slid it across the counter, and held my eyes. “Everyone says that,” she murmured. “Until the cost comes collecting.”
Outside, the sea wind pressed against the windows, rattling the glass like it had heard her warning and meant to test it.
Something sharp jabbed my finger.
“Gods—” I hissed, jerking my hand back. The raven that lived in Colette’s shop had swooped down from the rafters so silently I hadn’t heard the beat of his wings. He landed on the counter beside the herbs, head cocked, feathers slick and black as oil.
“Mind your manners,” I told him.
He clicked his beak once, a sharptackthat sounded suspiciously like laughter.
“Bite again,” the bird croaked.
Colette snorted. “Don’t encourage him. He’s meaner than the gulls.”
The door clanged open, the bell above it ringing far too hard to be polite. Two men filled the frame—Halorian guards, leather plates half-hidden under their cloaks, the smell of ale reaching me before they could.
The taller guard’s gaze caught mine. “Name.”
Patrol weeks. The word tightened my chest. They came like clockwork—announced just enough to make sure no one could claim surprise. For seven days, the guards were everywhere. Indoorways. On temple steps. Asking questions they already knew the answers to.
Everyone in Synnex knew when they came. The dates were posted on temple walls, whispered through markets, cursed under breath. The guards called it routine, but it wasn’t order they were keeping; it was fear.
Synnex wasn’t small enough for every guard to know every face, but it was small enough for them to know your name. And if they didn’t, they found a reason to learn it.
“Aurelia.” I smiled, knowing better than to make an enemy out of boredom and drink. Hoping my cooperation kept the peace.
The shorter one grinned without humor. “Surname?”
I hesitated a beat too long. Out of the corner of my eye, Colette’s chin tipped, a silent warning. She knew what saying it aloud meant.
I felt her ready to lie for me. I couldn’t let her. I was proud of my name—my family—no matter the trouble it brought.
“Moirae,” I said.
Something dark flickered in the shorter guard’s gaze. He lunged for me, his grip snapping around my arm like a trap, fingers biting into muscle. And I thought—not for the first time—that truth, spoken aloud, could be the sharpest lie, because men like these only ever heard what served their purpose.
“Pitch-black hair. Ice-blue eyes.” His gaze dragged over me, lingering on the thin line that cut from my brow across my lips before disappearing into the collar of my blouse. His finger traced it—not slow, but hungry, savoring the cruelty. “And that pretty little scar…”
My stomach turned cold. My scar was legend in Synnex, but legends were easier to believe when they didn’t have a face.
“Thought so.”
I moved before thought: wrenched free, caught his wrist,shoved my palm into his throat. He made a sound that was half cough, half choke and staggered back, grasping for air.
The taller guard’s fist tangled in my curls, yanking my head toward the door. Pain flared across my scalp. I kicked hard; my boot caught his shin. He grunted. His grip loosened for a breath, enough for me to twist but not break free. A blow landed between my shoulders, and my knees hit stone, his fist still twisted in my hair.
“Drinking on duty isn’t the best look now, is it, boys?” Colette called, voice sharp as broken glass.
“None of your business, old hag,” the man with my hair spat.
“Ugly,” the raven said. A beat. “And smells like piss.”
The guard jerked his head toward the bird, just enough. I twisted in his grip and drove my elbow into his ribs, folding him. His grunt cut off as I caught his wrist, rolled, and dragged him over my shoulder. He hit the floor hard. I locked his arm and wrenched back until the joint strained. He thrashed once, then stilled. Breath shallow, he yielded.