The village unfolds in a swirl of sounds and scents, the kind of place I've only read about in books. Paths worn down by thousands of footsteps wind through clusters of cottages, their chimneys puffing smoke into the slate-colored sky. The air carries the warmth of fresh bread, roasted meats, and something floral I have yet to discover.

  Market stalls line the streets, with merchants displaying their goods to passersby. Fruits glisten under the dim afternoon light, plump and ripe, while sheets of dyed fabric ripple like banners in the growing breeze.

  I flit from one cart to the next, fingers grazing the edge of a green scarf before moving to a wooden tray of sugared pastries.

  "This is incredible," I murmur, more to myself than to the King's Blade. He follows close behind, silent and observant, his presence lingering like my shadow. I glance over my shoulder. "Have you ever been here before?"

  His eyes continue scanning. "No."

  I wait for more, but nothing comes. "Have you been to any villages outside of Varethia?"

  "A few."

  I huff. "You're remarkably talkative today."

  Rael exhales sharply—a hint of mirth, maybe—but his attention never strays far from our surroundings. As I weave through the market with uncontained excitement, he's scanning the crowd, ever the bodyguard.

  A cart with bundles of dried herbs and freshly picked leaves catches my eye. An elderly woman stands behind it, arranging the plants with deft hands.

  I choose a cluster of thin, twisted roots from the selection. "Veylan root?" I ask, recognizing the medicinal herb from my handmaiden's lessons.

  The woman nods. "Good for pain."

  I pass her a copper, tucking the roots into my coin pouch before something else catches my eye—a bunch of pale blue flowers with silky petals. I lift one from the display, twirling it between my fingers. "And this?"

  "Moonshade," the woman says. "Lovely, aren't they? Used in teas, helps with sleep."

  A partial truth.

  Moonshade is paralytic in high enough doses—disguised as a harmless flower to those who don't know better. I keep my face neutral as I pass her another coin, slipping the flower carefully into the pouch.

  Rael hasn't moved. But his eyes have fallen on me. "Like you need that."

  'You sleep like the dead, princess.'

  Warmth blooms in my cheeks. "In time I may."

  Perhaps when I'm locked in a castle again.

  He doesn't press, but something in the way his eyes linger tells me he knows there's more to it.

  I start toward a cart with an array of vegetables when scuffling feet and hushed giggles from behind catch my attention.

  A young boy with freckled cheeks sneaks up behind Rael, his small hands twitching at his sides. His dark eyes glint mischievously as he edges closer, encouraged by two other children who stifle laughter behind their cupped hands.

  I pause mid-step, feigning interest in the produce while I watch the scene unfold. The boy stretches his fingers toward the hilt of Rael's dagger, a blur of motion stopping him cold.

  In one swift move, Rael twists, snatching the boy's wrist before he can even blink. The boy yelps, wide-eyed as the laughter of his friends dies out.

  I worry my lip, holding my breath.

  Rael stares him down, crimson eyes burning with quiet intensity as the boy trembles. He doesn't pull away, frozen under the guard's gaze like a mouse caught in a wolf's sight.

  "Brave," Rael mutters.

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  The boy gulps. "I-I was just--"

  Before he can stammer out the rest of his excuse, Rael releases his wrist and reaches into his pocket. Bronze flashes in his palm before he flicks it toward the boy with effortless precision. The child catches it clumsily, blinking down at the unexpected prize.

  "If you're going to steal," Rael chides, "do it properly."

  A toothy grin breaks across the boy's face before he scampers off, his friends whispering in awe.

  A laugh bubbles from my lips and Rael's head snaps toward me, eyes sharp as a blade. That signature glare sears into me, but it only makes me laugh harder.

  "You--"

  "A fearsome demon with a soft spot for children--who would've thought?" I whisper as I step past him, grinning.

  I don't need to look back to know he's scowling.

  I walk closer to a cart displaying an array of shining jewelry when something catches my eye.

  Across the street, near the edge of a narrow alleyway, a family huddles together. A woman clutches a fraying shawl around her shoulders, her face gaunt and hollow. A young boy clings to her side, his arms wrapped around his knees, as his younger sister sits beside him, her face smudged with dirt.

  The lively chatter of the village dulls in my ears.

  I blink, hands curling at my sides. How had I not noticed them before?

  "What led to this?" I murmur, unable to keep the sharp edge from my voice.

  He follows my gaze, his expression blank. "It's not my kingdom."

  "That's not an answer."

  "It's not my problem," he corrects. "Not my people. If you want answers, ask your King and Queen."

  My stomach twists.

  My parents.

  The ones who built this kingdom, who rule from their polished halls while their people—our people—wither in the streets. I think of the feasts laid out before us at the palace, the platters of food, the wines imported from faraway lands. How many times have I sat at those tables, surrounded by excess, blind to the suffering just beyond the walls?

  I feel sick.

  The beauty of the village warps before my eyes. The vibrant banners, the fragrant loaves of bread, the cheerful merchants—they all seem shadowed now, their charm fading beneath the weight of what I've overlooked for so long.

  I take a step forward. Then another.

  "Princess," Rael hisses lowly, but I don't stop.

  I stalk toward the nearest stall, the merchant, wearing an apron dusted in flour, blinking in surprise as I shove a gold coin into his palm. "A basket," I request, my voice shaking. "Bread. Fruit. Whatever this will get me."

  The man stills, glancing at Rael, whose presence hovers behind me. But when I don't back down, he quickly loads a basket with fresh loaves, apples, and dried meats.

  Rael exhales sharply through his nose. "This is a mistake."

  I ignore him.

  I lift the basket, careful not to spill anything, and march across the street. The mother startles as I kneel before her, her wary eyes darting from my face to the food in my hands.

  "Here," I say softly. "Please, take it."

  Her lips part, her fingers trembling as she reaches out. The children eye the food hungrily.

  "Thank you," the woman breathes, voice hoarse with disbelief.

  "Who are you?" the boy asks.

  A lump forms in my throat.

  "Someone who wishes she could do more," I murmur.

  Rael shifts behind me. "We need to go."

  I nod, just as a low rumble rolls across the sky. And as if the heavens share in my unrest, the first droplets of rain strike the ground, cold and unforgiving.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The patter of rain turns to a steady drum, then a relentless downpour. Water streaks from the rooftops, pooling in the uneven streets, turning dust to mud beneath our feet. Merchants scramble to pack their carts, throwing tarps over their goods as hurried shouts mix with the rush of rain. The once-lively village is dissolving into chaos, and the road ahead is quickly becoming impassable.

  Rael's hand finds my elbow, guiding me forward with firm purpose. "We need shelter, there's no use trying to get to the carriage in this."

  I don't argue, wanting to find relief from the cold clinging to my limbs.

  The warm glow of an inn calls to us from across the street. Rael doesn't hesitate, pushing open the door and ushering me inside. The moment we step in, the smell of burning wood and spiced cider envelops me, but it does little to chase away the chill in my bones. I squeeze water from my sleeves as Rael strides to the counter.

  "We need a room," he states.

  The innkeeper—a stout man with thinning hair—barely looks up. "Three silvers."

  Rael reaches for his coin pouch as the man's gaze lifts. His eyes lock onto Rael's, and something shifts. His fingers tighten around the counter as his lip curls.

  "Actually, we're out of rooms for the evening."

  I blink. "But you just said—"

  "No rooms," the man repeats, sharper this time. "Not for his kind."

  A muscle ticks in Rael's jaw. His shoulders go rigid, as he leans closer, knuckles glowing white as he grips the counter. "That so?" His voice is low, edged with quiet fury. "Because a moment ago, you seemed happy to take my money—"

  "It doesn't matter," I interject, grabbing his wrist before he can say another word. "We'll go somewhere else."

  Rael whips his head toward me, incredulous. I ignore him, staring down the innkeeper. "How do we get to Ravenspire Manor from here?"

  The innkeeper eyes me curiously. But then he grunts, jerking his head toward the door. "Head north. Past the market square. Take a left. You'll see the gate."

  I nod, then turn to Rael, gripping his wrist and pulling him toward the door. The air between us is charged as we step back into the storm, the door slamming shut behind us. "I wasn't done talking."

  "There was nothing left to say." I face him, water dribbling down my forehead as we stand beneath the alcove.

  Running a hand through his wet hair, Rael frowns. "And you think Ravenspire will let us in?"

  "They have to." I lean out just enough to view the streets ahead, the road disappearing into a haze of silver rain. My voice is quiet, almost drowned by the storm. "I'm their niece."