The carriage was white and gold. But that wasn’t why my breath had stuck in my throat.
There was no horse attached to the carriage. And yet…it moved of its own accord.
“What magic is this?” I breathed.
“Stolen magic.” Bitterness seeped from each of my brother’s words.
“Move!” someone roared, and Tibris led his horse to the side of the road. Another carriage barreled past us, this one with a horse. Perhaps only the most powerful people in the city were using horseless carriages.
Lorian hadn’t warned me about this. From the way he’d talked about the king, it was clear he loathed him. And yet he hadn’t told me the people in the city would walk around using so much magic, it was clear they had received much, much more back than anyone living in the northern villages.
He’d wanted me to see it for myself. He’d known it would shock and enrage me, and he didn’t want to dampen that shock and rage by telling me about it.
“Where’s Vicer?” I asked, my gaze on a woman who used her magic to levitate a satchel as she walked down the street.
“He gave me an address.” Tibris pulled a note from his pocket, and I recognized our code.
“Did you know about this?” I nodded toward the woman casually using her power.
Tibris shrugged. “Vicer told me some of it. But he said I’d need to see the worst of it for myself in order to truly believe it.”
We’d turned left when we entered the city gates, and now we were standing in the southwest corner of the city. Tibris pulled out a rough map—likely also from Vicer—and began frowning down at it.
“We need a stable for my horse,” he muttered. “There should be one a few streets north of here.”
I nodded, and we set off, both of us with the hoods of our cloaks up. I would have worried about looking suspicious, but the people here…
Merchants strolled by in clothes similar to ours—tunics and breeches and cloaks. Among them, the nobles wandered, men in tailored waistcoats and women in the kinds of dresses that would get them killed if they needed to fight.
But why would they need to fight? The people here obviously lived a charmed life, ducking into the bookstores and teahouses, the taverns and dressmakers. For one wild moment, I wanted to burn the city to the ground, if only to watch these privileged, ignorant people run for their lives.
“Prisca,” Tibris hissed, and I jolted. I’d pushed my cloak back off my face at some point, and I was glowering at the people going about their lives.
This was not how I would keep us alive.
“Sorry.”
“I feel it too. But…”
“We have to be smart. I know.”
Tibris found the stables and instructed the boy who took his horse to tell him if anyone was in need of a mare. Regret flashed across his face, and my chest tightened. At some point, Tibris had obviously become fond of his stolen horse.
I followed Tibris north. Within a few minutes, clothing stores gave way to taverns. The stone beneath our feet became cracked, and we dodged pickpockets, prostitutes, and puddles of piss.
The difference between the wealthier parts of the city and the slums was staggering.
A drunk stumbled toward me, hands sweeping under my cloak in an attempt to find my purse. The feel of strange hands on me… Bile climbed up my throat. Elbowing the drunk in the face, I slid to the side and neatly tripped him. His face hit the wall, and he crumpled with a groan.
Guilt twisted my stomach. He was just a drunk. Not the hunter from the forest. Not the bearded giant from the inn. Just a harmless drunk.
Tibris stared at me. “I see you continued your lessons.”
“The mercenaries fight dirty.” I forced myself to keep walking. “They taught me a few things.”
He just nodded, his brow creasing. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Surely it couldn’t get any worse. I waited, watching as Tibris stepped around a puddle, swallowed, took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders.
“The person who suggested Asinia be assessed…it was Frinik.”
I closed my eyes. When I thought of Frinik, I thought of sneaking into the forest, creeping out my window, whispers, hushed laughter, rough kisses. He was my first. We’d known even then that we weren’t forever, but for a few months, before his parents arranged his marriage to their friend’s daughter, we’d both had someone.
Now, if I ever saw him again, I would slit his throat.
Oh, how I’d changed since the day I’d fled my village.