My feet slipped on the rain-slicked cobblestones of the alley as I ran at full tilt. The sound of boots hitting the ground wasn’t far behind me. I needed a hiding place, and I needed it now. My eyes darted back and forth over barrels and crates tucked beneath short awnings and beside doors, but all of the containers were either nailed shut already or missing their lid. Those wouldn’t conceal me, not at all. There weren’t a lot of options, so I ducked into a doorway and tried the handle. Locked.

  Grimacing, I pulled a small metal hook from the pouch at my belt. It wasn’t the same as my old picking tools, and I was out of practise, but I was also out of time. I slipped the hook into the lock, trying my best to concentrate over the steady crescendo of approaching pursuers. The lock clicked, clicked, and clicked again, but the hook didn’t find solid purchase.

  “Come on, you vicious idiot,” I hissed under my breath, but the lock stubbornly refused to listen to my threats.

  The footsteps picked up pace, and I looked out of the corner of my eye to see their owner, a young girl not much older than me, already at the end of the alley, rain-drenched red hair pressed against her face. I stumbled backwards, dropping the makeshift pick, and made a break for it.

  “Hey!” she shouted behind me. My pulse roared in my ears as I ran, until a solid force slammed into my back, hurling me to the ground. My head hit the stones, not enough to concuss me, at least as far as I knew, but I felt a trickle of blood and a sharp sting on my forehead as the other girl pushed me onto my back, pinning my shoulders against the ground.

  She sneered as she looked down at me, breathing hard after the chase. “Hey,” she said again, a little bit more calm but still with a thin coating of venom on her words. “That’s my Ma’s necklace you took. Give it back.”

  I tried to reach up to feel the gash on my head, but she shifted her grip to my elbows, fully immobilising me. The rain carried grit from the shale roofs of the buildings around with it as it soaked into the cut. The steady patter was a nail driving itself into my skull.

  “Did you call the Watch?” I murmured.

  “Give it back,” the girl said, more purposefully.

  “Did you call the Watch?” I repeated, a drop of panic breaking into my voice.

  “Grace! Grace!” a third, deeper voice called from the alley’s entrance. I was able to shift my head enough to see a larger man with red, messy hair of his own, a thick beard, and a covered basket in one hand, running towards us.

  “It’s okay, Pa,” the girl, Grace, by the sounds of it, called back. She eased her grip to sit back and address her father. “I got her.”

  “Gideon’s blood, don’t go running off like that again,” the man said. He gently pulled Grace back away from me and to his side. “It’s not safe here in the town by yourself, alright? You know that if something comes up, I can handle it.”

  “But Pa,” the girl protested, “she stole Ma’s necklace! What, did you want me to just stand there and watch?”

  “Here,” I said before the heat in the air could go any higher. I reached into that same pouch and pulled out the necklace, holding it towards them like a tribute. It was a gaudy thing, covered all in pale pink pearls that were almost certainly fake. Still, it was saying goodbye to a few days’ worth of comfort as I sat up and handed it over, more if I could have found someone gullible enough to buy that it was real.

  “Thank you, child,” the man said as he took the necklace.

  “Pfft,” Grace snorted. “Don’t thank her for stealing.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  The man halfway stood, suddenly stopping midway through the motion. “Say. Kid. How old are you, anyway?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Where was he going with that question? “Twelve years,” I answered honestly.

  “Twelve, hmm,” the man hummed. He knelt down. His green eyes were darkened in the shade of the evening, far from the nearest lamppost, but they had a softness to them that I wasn’t expecting from someone I’d taken from. “Where are your parents?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I lied. “Never met them.”

  A sadness, one that seemed like a familiar emotion to his face, crept into the man’s expression. “I see,” he said quietly and somberly. “Do you have a place to rest tonight?”

  My eyes briefly flicked to the necklace still in the man’s hand. Not anymore, I answered in my head, but I didn’t tell him that. “At an inn, maybe,” I said evasively.

  “Maybe?” the man repeated.

  “Maybe.”

  He searched my face for a few more seconds before rising, and holding his hand out towards me. “Well, I don’t normally like to gamble on ‘maybes’,” he said. “It’s quite a ways from here, but there’s a spare bed in our house. Why don’t you come there with us, at least for tonight? Don’t want to hear about any children freezing in the rain tomorrow.”

  Grace recoiled. “Pa, what?” she said incredulously. “That’s…stupid!”

  “Grace,” her father said gently. “It wouldn’t do to leave someone out for the weather if we can do something about it. You don’t have to talk to her, but you don’t have to complain either. Understand?”

  Grace sighed and crossed her arms. “Fine,” she muttered.

  I took the man’s hand and stood. Distrust was still heavy on my mind, and I knew I wouldn’t sleep well that night, if at all. But a little sleep loss was still preferable to risking the weather.

  “Good,” said the man. He gestured for me to follow, and I did, just behind Grace as she stuck her tongue out at me. We headed towards the other end of the alley.

  “Do you have a name, sir?” I asked.

  “Brian,” said the man. “Brian Lawcrest. Do you?”

  I shrugged. “Most people call me Belfry.”

  ────────────────────────────────────────

  Two Years Later

  It was midsummer, and a bright and sunny day. There on the northern slopes of the Fountainhead Mountains, we didn’t get too many days of sunshine and warmth, and I was determined to make the most of the ones that we did get. The grasses of the field were soft enough to call to mind the woollen mattresses back at the house, and the bleating of sheep was familiar enough to me by then to be almost as a lullaby. The breeze was brisk, but not so cold that it couldn’t be pierced by the warming rays of sunlight that set down on my face as I laid in the grass.

  The feeling of those rays was broken by a harsh tapping on my temple. “Are you asleep?” Grace’s voice asked from somewhere above me.

  I sat up and opened my eyes slowly to avoid being blinded. The familiar fells of the highlands that abutted the Fountainheads sprawled out around, eventually cascading down into the river valleys that cut their way through the hills to the flat Wildmoor and Lakelands to the north. The town of Vandermaine was nestled into a nook between two peaks just below us, for once bereft of the smoke that almost always drifted out of the chimneys and over the shale roofs and brown stone walls of the town. We weren’t close enough for me to clearly make out the bell tower that rose like a guardian angel over the southern district, but I did hear the bell inside chime two…four…six times. Sprinkled around the town were hamlets and cottages that interspersed the grazing fields of sheep and goats, strewn seemingly randomly as though the imperial provincial planners had determined the location of each by tossing a handful of dice onto a map. Wherever space permitted, the sheltered entrances of mine shafts stuck out of the rocky mountainsides, with well-trodden rutted tracks tracing the flow of lead and coal back towards Vandermaine.

  I closed one eye against the harsh light and scratched the back of my head to shake off any pieces of grass that might have stuck themselves to my light brown hair. Grace poked the side of my head with her staff again.

  “Anyone home in there?” she asked.

  I made a crude gesture towards her and stood. Like me, Grace was dressed in simple working clothes, with a white shirt and brown trousers. Locks of her reddish hair fell in front of her eyes, a trait she’d carefully cultivated in order to look “more mysterious”. My own hair was tied back in a ponytail. I could hardly imagine dealing with it if it were as messy as hers.

  “I was just relaxing,” I said. The quietude up here meant that I didn’t need to speak up to be heard, unlike in town. “Not hurting anyone. Juni’s on guard duty if something were to happen.” I glanced over at Juniper, our Fountainhead Mountain Dog, who was currently actually asleep in the middle of the sheep flock, looking like just a big white lump on the mountainside.

  Grace sighed. “Yeah, and she’s about as good at it as you,” she said.

  I rolled my shoulders as I stood and shot her an annoyed look. “You don’t have to take it out on my dog,” I muttered.

  “Just because she was born the day after you got here doesn’t make her your dog,” scoffed Grace.

  “Close enough,” I said, a smirk creeping across my face. “You know I’m her favourite.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Pa’s coming, so you should probably look like you’re actually working.”

  I leaned forward on my staff as Grace took a seat on a nearby exposed rock, and we both stared down the slope at where Mr. Lawcrest was coming up the hill. His hair had faded paler as he’d drifted into his late thirties, but he otherwise looked just like he had when I’d met him two years ago, warm smile and all.

  “Evening, kids,” he called as he trudged towards us.

  “Evening, Mr. Lawcrest.” I gave him a wave. “Is there something we’re needed for?”

  Mr. Lawcrest stopped and surveyed the flock around us. “Well, I reckon that it’s about time we bring them down a little closer to the house,” he said. “But today, I can handle that. I’ve actually got something special for the two of you.”

  Grace and I exchanged curious glances before approaching. Mr. Lawcrest gave us a smile and held out his hand. I could hear the clinking of coins before he opened his fist to reveal six silver pennies, the distinctive stamped likeness of the Tower of Fire they said stood in the imperial capital glinting in the sun like a hypnotic will-o-the-wisp.

  “Wow,” I breathed, completely speechless.

  “That’s quite a bit of money, Pa,” said Grace, similarly shocked.

  “It’s from the last few weeks’ savings,” said Mr. Lawcrest. “You get three each. I’ll take care of the sheep; I want both of you to go into town, and buy yourselves something. Whatever you want. Crown Day’s tomorrow, and just because we’ll need to work on the emperor’s birthday, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to enjoy yourselves.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, tentatively reaching towards the money, but not taking it yet.

  “I’m certain,” said Mr. Lawcrest. “Go ahead. You’ll probably want to get moving soon, else you’ll be home past sundown.”

  Grace snatched up the coins and leaned in for a big hug with her father. “Oh, thank you, Pa!” she practically shouted. As soon as she stopped crushing Mr. Lawcrest, she grabbed my hand and yanked me forward towards Vandermaine, fast enough that I almost hit the dirt trying to keep up with her. “Come on, Belfry!”

  Mr. Lawcrest chuckled. “You be back before dark now, you hear?”

  “I hear you, Mr. Lawcrest!” I called. “I’ll make sure we are!”

  The hill sloped down steadily until it met another plane of flatter land, this one level with Vandermaine and carrying a wide dirt road that led to the town at one end and to a series of switchbacks down the mountains and towards the moors at the other. This time of year, this far north, we still had several hours of sunlight left at least, but the sky was already beginning to tint orange and deep blue as the sun kissed the peaks at the western horizon.

  The gates of Vandermaine stayed open during daylight hours, so we were able to rush right through, under the vigilant eyes of watchmen standing on the walls, rifles and swords on full display. Even now, two years past the last crime I committed, the sight of those guns still made me shiver.

  The streets were buzzing, strange even on the day before a holiday way out here. People marched with purpose down the roads, looking harried and nervous. The air was heavy with anxiousness, but either Grace didn’t feel it or she didn’t care, because she kept running just as fast. We were headed for the Rockhurst Square on the south side of town, based on the streets Grace guided us down.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Whoa, whoa, slow down.” I finally managed to get free of Grace’s grip and stumble to a halt. Grace took a second to register that I wasn’t with her anymore before she did stop, coming back to my side with her brows furrowed in confusion.

  “Why? What’s the matter?” she asked.

  I pulled on my sleeves. It wasn’t cold, but I suddenly wished I had a coat or cloak or something. “Just…don’t go rushing around, alright? Something’s off.”

  Grace tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”

  I glanced at the harrowed face of a stranger passing by. “Call it intuition,” I said noncommittally. “At least don’t go haring off and running into someone. I’d rather not deal with that.”

  Grace kicked a stray stone on the ground. “Fine. Boring….” She beckoned me forward, and I reluctantly followed, this time not being pulled along.

  Grace gave me a sympathetic look. “Hey. So, what do you want to get?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, yet. I was hoping that we might be able to look around a bit before dusk.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” said Grace.

  “You were going to the confectionery, weren’t you?” I asked, pointing a finger in mock accusation.

  Grace scratched her head with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Maybe,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll spend all of it on something sweet. But a bit of caramel now and then is good for the soul. And morale and all that. You know?”

  “I suppose,” I agreed half-heartedly. It wasn’t that I disliked caramels; they were delicious. But I never did understand how Grace could be content in buying something so fleeting. “I think I might take a look at—”

  “Whoa, watch out!” Grace pulled me sideways into a building as a plume of fire shot into the air from the square just ahead. It was aimed too high to have hit me, but the wash of blazing hot air that swelled through the street sent my heartbeat into a sprint. I put my hand against my chest, feeling every pulse and breath.

  Both of us leaned around the wall. There was a crowd in the square just ahead, all standing around the small fountain that marked the cultural centre of Vandermaine. Five people surrounded them, wearing metal cuirasses, vambraces, and greaves, and thick sheepskin-lined coats underneath. Their helmets were blocky, with metal plates over softer cloth and flaps covering their ears. The fronts of their cuirasses were flared outward, with the blue-orange-white horizontal bars that formed the imperial flag painted onto that flared strip of metal. Each held a long, straight sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.

  Standing above them, forelegs leaning on that fountain, were dragons. One had red scales, the other green, both dark shades that lightened on the broad plates that covered their undersides. They were easily seven, maybe eight feet at the shoulders and two or more times as long. Their wings were spread wide, and their tails lashed threateningly. Metal plates were affixed to the tops of their heads and their chests, with leather straps keeping them in place and long cords strung from their helmets like reins. Large padded saddles were situated between their wings.

  The green one’s throat glowed orange from in between the scales, and flames licked from its mouth. The crowd of civilians seemed at least a little bit cowed by the display of force, but insults, shouts, and rocks were still hurled at the soldiers.

  “There will be order!” one of the soldiers shouted back. “Disperse immediately! This city is now under the protection of the Imperial Order of Cuirassiers!”

  I pulled my head back, my heart in my throat, while Grace kept watching, I suppose out of morbid curiosity. As quietly as I could, I tested the handle of the door on the building we hid behind. It was unlocked. I didn’t check to see if it was a public or private building before throwing the door open and urgently tugging at Grace’s shoulder to follow me inside. Thankfully, she listened.

  I slammed the door perhaps too harshly behind us. It turned out the place we’d wandered into was a pub. A good handful of people sat in lounge chairs around the dim fire burning in the hearth, or at tables near the long bar. It was dead silent, enough that everyone turned to look at us as we entered. The only other sounds were the quiet clink of glasses hitting tables and the distant but all-too-audible sound of the brawl outside.

  “Sorry,” said Grace, just loudly enough to be heard. “Just looking for…shelter.”

  A chorus of “mhm’s” went up around the room. Grace led the way over to a couple of nice chairs with a flowerpot in between, conveniently on the opposite end of the building from the fight. I focussed my attention on the flowers beside us. They were pretty, with long chains of deep violet blossoms that drooped towards the floor like raindrops clinging to a rope.

  “What’s going on out there?” asked Grace.

  “I don’t—” I started to answer, before I realised that Grace wasn’t looking at me. She was facing an older man, his salt-and-pepper hair combed sharply backwards, and a gold-rimmed brown eyepatch over his right eye. A small pair of spectacles sat far down on his nose as he squinted at a newspaper, and the pipe poking out from under his bushy moustache belched almost as much smoke as the fireplace.

  “Hmph,” the man huffed. “I suspect it has something to do with this.” He held the newspaper towards us. The headline at the top read, in bold text, “EMPEROR DETHRONED BY VESKITE REBELS”.

  My jaw dropped. I glanced between the stranger, Grace, and the paper. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Anyone who’d caught any piece of the news in the last year knew about the Veskites that had been waging war in the south. But last I’d heard, they hadn’t been anywhere near the capital.

  I could at least clear up one point. “I–I’m sorry, who is this?” I hissed to Grace.

  The man gave Grace a look of bemusement. “I should be offended that you haven’t told your friend about me,” he said.

  “I have,” Grace retorted. “She just doesn’t remember anything I talk to her about in the evenings.” She pointed her hand at the man. “Belfry, I’ve told you about Gordon. He’s the blacksmith I go to for our nails?”

  I blinked. It took a moment to sift through two years’ worth of reports from after Grace’s visits to town. “Oh! Okay. Yes. I know that name.”

  “As well you should!” Gordon said with a laugh. “Gordon Darter is no small business around here!”

  I pursed my lips. “Um. Okay. So, is…that true?” I gestured vaguely at the paper.

  “Almost certainly,” said Gordon. “No paper’d print anything that bad for the imperialists unless there wasn’t a good way to spin it.”

  I tapped my foot against the floor, anxiety building. “Shouldn’t we be worried?”

  Grace shrugged. She didn’t look happy, but she didn’t look terribly upset either. “Since when have the emperor’s people ever come to Vandermaine? I don’t think it makes much of a difference, one way or another, whose ass is on the throne.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, pointing frantically at the other side of the pub. “There’s a fight in the street with cuirassiers going on right this second,” I said. “What are you talking about, ‘when have they ever come to Vandermaine’? There are dragons in our town!”

  Murmurs went through the other customers. Either they didn’t know about the dragon, or just the fervor of our hushed conversation was driving them to chatter of their own.

  “Feh,” spat Gordon. “They’ll be out of town in a few days. There ain’t nothing here for the Order to be interested in. They don’t do anything small-time. If the emperor really wanted to hold Vandermaine, he’d bring the Imperial Guard up here instead. The cuirassiers are just passing through.”

  I pinched my nose. “Okay. Are you sure?”

  “Sure as can be,” said Gordon. “By my guess, the most we can expect to come of this out here is that we’ll start getting mining orders from and sending our tax coins to the Lord-Protector in Kirkwall. Closest big city with enough of an ego to try and make it on its own.” He seemed to catch a glance of my nervous fidgeting, and gave a small, reassuring smile. “Trust me. Big stuff like this doesn’t come to small towns like ours.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to take his words in rationally. “Alright.”

  Gordon nodded. He took one last glance at the paper before folding it and setting it down on the table next to him. “So. Either of you two want an ale while we’re all waiting for the commotion to calm down?”

  “Still a year off sixteen, Gordon,” said Grace. “No drinks till then. And she’s a year younger than me.”

  I waved to emphasise the point.

  “Well, if the emperor’s gone, who’s to say it’s illegal anymore?” Gordon asked with a facetious grin.

  “Still nope,” said Grace, matching him with a smirk of her own. “Not just the emperor’s orders. It’s also the burgomaster’s, and the Lord-Protector’s. And mine.”

  “Feh,” Gordon spat again.

  Before the mood could recover too much, a tremendous bang sounded from outside. A gunshot, without doubt. I nearly bolted out of my seat. Gordon’s face immediately hardened. He extinguished the pipe and stood, pointing a stern finger at us. “You kids stay here,” he said. “I’m going to go make sure things don’t get worse out there.”

  I stared at the ground, rubbing my hands together. Grace put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you doing okay?” she asked.

  “Eh,” I grunted noncommittally. “Just…ugh, feels like every time I actually think I’m going to be able to, you know, settle, something has to go and spoil it. And then its back to jumping at shadows.”

  Grace nodded. “I get it. It’s alright. We’ll just take it one day at a time, you hear?”

  “Yeah,” I said, latching onto those words. “One day at a time. One day at a time….”

  It wasn’t long before the noises calmed down, but Grace and I didn’t chance leaving just then. We waited for what felt like hours for Gordon to get back and say that it was safe. I skimmed a couple of books under the tables, but my brain couldn’t sit still long enough to start reading anything for real. Grace idly tapped out tune fragments against the wooden table with her fingers, every so often making five-sentence conversation with me before it all died back down to silence. When she thought I wasn’t looking, I caught glances of the worried expression that laid behind the fa?ade, which only grew more intense as Gordon took longer and longer to return.

  He did return, though, after what the wall clock told us was only thirty minutes or so. He bore a heavy, irritated grimace on his face, but was otherwise completely unharmed.

  “‘On official orders’, my ass,” he muttered to himself. “Alright, you two. They’re gone. Go ahead.”

  Several others were already rising and taking their leave. Grace sprang up immediately. “Great,” she said, her jovial spark returning to life. “Everything go okay?”

  “Close enough,” Gordon said as he slowly lowered himself back into his seat. “No one died. Talked to their sergeant. He said they were on official orders from the capital. ‘You’re lying through your teeth’, I thought. Least he said they’d be gone in three days or less, so I was right about that.”

  My mind had questions about what we’d do if that sergeant was lying, but I put them down for now. “Thanks,” I said instead.

  Gordon nodded, picking his paper back up. “Mhm.”

  Grace clasped my hand in hers again, ushering me towards the door. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  We went out into the square. The air outside felt dead. A handful of people passed through the square with us, hurrying and keeping their heads down past the watchful eyes of three of those cuirassiers that had stuck around after the fight, still holding their rifles, though at least their swords were sheathed. The red-scaled dragon laid on the ground beside one of them, staring at me as we walked. I met its sharp yellow eyes once. The beast didn’t speak, dragons couldn’t, but there was still a knowing glimmer in its eye that was unnerving, to say the least.

  Our stop at the confectionery was brief and terse. Neither of us felt much like making conversation with the dour man who kept the business. Grace spent a whole penny on a bag of assorted sweets. I could see the regret in her face after she handed the coin over, but the weight of the events in the square was strong enough to coerce her into it anyway. I bought nothing.

  “I’ll come back into town tomorrow,” I said. “I’m not in the right mood to find something I like right now.”

  The road home felt a thousand miles long.

  ────────────────────────────────────────

  That night, I hiked up the mountainside. The commotion of the day had already worn all of the energy out of my body, but someone needed to call Juni back towards the barn for the night. As good of a guard dog as she was, she still had her bad habits, including trying to stay out each night at her favourite spot a mile from home, whether or not the sheep were with her. Calling her back was normally my job. She didn’t like to listen to the other two.

  I slowly picked my way up the familiar route, watching for rocks that might have shuffled during the grazing of the flock that day or fallen from the rocky cliffs overlooking our pastures. The twin moons were both full that night, the bright white eye of Carin bathing the land in cold but bright light, and the greenish-yellow gaze of Styn peeking out from behind it like a blighted cyst. I shivered and tried not to glance skyward. A full green moon was a bad omen, I knew it in my bones.

  Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the agitated bark of Juni up ahead. It didn’t sound like the excited noises she made when she spotted the others or me, it sounded angry. I finally looked up from my path to try and spot her amongst the pale stones. She was standing over a small hole in the ground barking and pawing at it frantically.

  It was a little bit of a relief to know that there weren’t approaching wolves, or perhaps some other worser monster that prowled the Fountainhead Mountains, but we’d had scares of rabid marmots up here before, so it wasn’t completely safe. I picked up the pace.

  Juniper ran to my side the second she noticed me, whirling around to growl and whimper at the hole she’d been pawing at. “What is it, girl?” I asked in a hushed whisper. “Are you okay?” I knelt down to inspect her for any signs of bites, but she seemed perfectly fine. No blood or saliva clung to her fur anywhere, just dirt and dust. Still, she kept whimpering and staring at that hole.

  “What did you find?” I asked. “Is it dead?”

  Juni barked again. I sighed and stood. “We’re going to have to give you another look in the morning, once we’ve got good light,” I murmured. “Stay, girl. I’ll go see what it is.”

  Juni dutifully sat down, but she didn’t seem happy about it, continually glancing between me and whatever had disturbed her, her ears raised in alertness and whimpers constantly escaping from her.

  “Stay,” I said again, giving a downward motion, before turning my back to her and approaching the hole, slowly just in case it was something still alive.

  It was small, but deep. Smooth and steep dirt sides told me it probably wasn’t Juniper that dug it. A couple of bloodstains coloured the ground all around, and depressions in the soil underneath the thin grass carpet had the vague outline of bootprints.

  “What in the hells…” I muttered to myself. People from Vandermaine came walking through our land all the time, so the footprints were normal, but the bloodstains were thrown in wide arcs, like someone was cut with a sword or bayonet rather than being bitten by a dog or wolf or suffering some other bleeding wound. My mind flashed back to the cuirassiers in the square, but they surely couldn’t have come up here in the brief hour since they left the square, right? At least not without us noticing?

  The shadows that filled the deep pit almost made me think it was empty. I took my walking stick and poked into it to test, just in case. I felt it hit something hard like stone, but it made a clinking sound much more like tapping against glass. A few more prods satisfied me that there wasn’t anything alive down there at least, so I laid down to reach my arm into the hole. It was at least three full feet deep, and seemed to have been carved partly into the shallow bedrock. At the bottom, there was what felt like a cold stone, perfectly spherical, and about the size of a curled finger. I grabbed it and held it high towards the moonlight to get a closer look.

  It was a gemstone, that much was obvious. Smoothly round to a degree unworkable by nature alone, and shining with a pale purple cast as the white light of Carin glinted off its surface. It had a scintillating sheen, like that of a pearl. It was beautiful, but unlike any gemstone I’d ever seen before. In any other circumstance, I would have considered it a particularly artful forgery, but who buried a fake gem three feet underground? More importantly, who had come here to dig it up, and what had drawn their blood?

  I got to my knees. I looked down at the hole, then at the blood that surrounded it. Someone was clearly after this thing. It could be someone’s cherished treasure. Or, maybe some kind of magical artefact? No, that didn’t seem likely. But there was no doubt a gemstone this rare would be valuable if I could prove it was real, maybe even valuable enough to be measured in those golden castle coins I’d seen rich merchants handle. And if I didn’t get caught up in whatever trouble had befallen it before I arrived. My heart wavered between the thoughts of taking it and of leaving it where it was.

  I hovered my hand over the pit, uncertain. I felt something nudge me in the back, and I jumped, startled, only to see that Juniper had come to me and sat down, her big brown eyes seeming to be full of worry.

  “Juni, you need to stay when I say ‘stay’,” I limply chastised her. I glanced at the stone again. “But you’re right,” I murmured, and slipped the gem into my pocket. “No one will know I took it. Once we sell it, it might as well just have been any old thief.” A thread of anxiety wound its way through my head, but I brushed it aside.

  I hastily kicked some dirt back into the hole to at least partly conceal it. “Come on, girl,” I said, ushering Juni back downhill, towards our little home on the mountainside. “Let’s get back, so we can both get some sleep tonight.”