Whether it was because of the distance from Pyrinat or that the rebels held sway in the city, he wasn’t certain, but it eased the fear he felt whenever a Valcottan’s gaze fell upon him.
The streets were packed with people, and Keris winced every time he was jostled. It took more effort than it should to remain at Zarrah’s side as she pressed deeper into the city. “You been here before?” he asked, nearly forced to shout over the din of voices and animals.
“No.” Zarrah stepped closer to him to be heard, her shoulder pressing against his arm as a round matron carrying a goat collided against her, the woman cursing them to get out of the way. Instinct demanded he wrap an arm around Zarrah and pull her aside, but Keris only shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
“I was never sent south.” Zarrah twisted sideways to make room for a man pulling a handcart full of dirty straw. “I never questioned it, because my focus was always the war with Maridrina, but now I wonder if it was purposeful on her part.”
“Seems likely.” He scanned the signs hanging from the fronts of buildings, looking for an inn, only for his eyes to land on uniformed soldiers on horseback, grim eyes scanning the crowd. “Head down.”
“I see them.” Zarrah maintained her steady pace at his side, allowing the flow of traffic to draw them forward. “I want to get a look at their uniforms.”
Breaking away from the crowd would only draw attention, so Keris kept his head down and
shoulders slumped as they moved closer to the four horsemen than common sense suggested was wise.
“Move!” one of the soldiers snarled, lashing at the crowd with the ends of his reins. The civilians flinched out of the way, muttering curses and glaring at the soldiers.
“Pig fuckers!” someone shouted. “Go back to Pyrinat! The Usurper misses your ass licking!”
“Who said that?” The soldier whirled his horse, the animal’s hindquarters slamming into Zarrah.
She stumbled sideways as the irritated animal kicked out, hooves striking another woman, who screamed. Keris caught Zarrah around the waist, his injured shoulder protesting as he kept her upright. The crowd swiftly turned to a mob, civilians fighting to get away from the horses, only to be shoved back into them.
The animals panicked, eyes rolling as they reared and twisted, hooves lashing out as they fought their riders.
Keris’s heart raced; his fingers latched on to Zarrah’s clothes as they were shoved from all sides, people falling beneath feet. He tripped over a body, then stepped on another, horror filling him as Zarrah his one sojourn across the border. One night of drinking and reading stories about stars, only towhoever it was screamed in agony.
But there was no way to help, for to try to drag them up from beneath the weight of so many would only see him pulled beneath the heavy heels of the mob.
Just keep your feet, he told himself. Hold on to her.
And then they were out of the thick of it, the street widening and terrified civilians stumbling free, weeping or swearing. Sucking in breath after breath, Keris caught hold of the edge of a building, only
for Zarrah to grab his arm, leading him down the street. “Imperial guard,” she said. “You can tell from the pattern on the brass on their sleeve.”
“Information most definitely worth risking one’s life for,” he muttered, ignoring her sharp glare.
“They are her most trusted and vaunted soldiers, not a city patrol. They’d have only been sent here for a specific and important purpose.”
with them at market stalls, showing none of the hate for his countrymen that their empress encouraged.
“Which you nearly handed to them,” he snapped. “What if your hood had been pulled back? I can Whether it was because of the distance from Pyrinat or that the rebels held sway in the city, he wasn’t only assume that every single one of those soldiers knows your face.”
“Obviously,” Zarrah answered. “But it’s not me they are here for. At best, word of my escape will only reach Arakis today, more likely tomorrow. Pyrinat is farther away, so she won’t yet know. The imperial guard is here for a different purpose.”
“Given that man called Petra the Usurper, one can only assume that the rebels have been stirring up dissent.”
Zarrah’s eyes narrowed beneath her hood. “Keep your voice down. If that’s indeed why they are here, they’ll have men out of uniform serving as eyes and ears.”
“I’m aware,” he muttered, annoyed at being chastised, given the risk she’d taken, but feeling too ill to fight about it.
They ventured on until they found an inn, Zarrah opening the door to reveal a common room packed with people. Much like in Nerastis, the ceiling was decorated with strings of lamps formed of colored glass, though these were black with soot and neglect. The bar was at the center of the room, low tables stretching out from it like spokes on a wheel, all of them laden with small plates of food and dirty glasses of the dark beer Valcottans favored. There were only two windows, one with stained glass depicting a crowned woman with dark curling hair, though it was hard to see the details through the filth. The other was boarded over. A large stone hearth dominated the wall at the rear; the amount of smoke spewing from it suggested the chimney desperately needed a cleaning, but above it hung a mirror with a gilded frame. A once-fine establishment now fallen into disrepair, the air smelling of smoke, vomit, and bodies deeply in need of a bar of soap.
The people appeared primarily Valcottan, possessed of dark hair and skin of various hues of brown, men and women both dressed in the baggy trousers and loose shirts he’d seen in Nerastis, though there were individuals from other nations as well. Maridrinians sat on the stained cushions used in lieu of chairs, and he heard the accents of Harendell and Amarid, though never together.
“Looks like I’ll fit in just fine.”
“Only if you keep silent.” Zarrah approached the bar. “We need two rooms,” she said to a woman filling a glass with foaming ale.
“Full up,” the woman announced. “Not a room to be had in all of Arakis. Got four to a bed. Try one of the camps outside of the city.”
“Why is the city so full?”
The bartender paused in her pouring, giving Zarrah an appraising once-over. “Because of the raids.
Whole villages burned to the ground, so people have come to the city for shelter.”
“Burned by whom?” Zarrah demanded, but the woman only shrugged, looking away.
She was afraid.
Keris had seen such a reaction countless times before in Maridrina. People afraid to speak out about violence because the instigator was the one who wore the crown. It was Petra’s soldiers who were doing the burning, likely on the whispers of rats selling out those who dared to stand against her.
“I see,” Zarrah answered, and though her face was unmoved, the tension in her shoulders revealed that she saw as clearly as he did. “I’ll pay double.”
for Zarrah to grab his arm, leading him down the street. “Imperial guard,” she said. “You can tell from The bartender shouted, “Anyone wanting to sell their room for double the price you paid me?”
Keris winced at having so much attention drawn to them, but no one even looked up. “Triple?” the bartender shouted, smirking at Zarrah, who had made no such offer.