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I threw on a tunic that hung down to my knees and stepped into the trousers. They were far too big on me, even with my wide hips and large thighs, so I threaded the tunic through the belt loops and tied the ends in a knot. They were also far too long and I had to roll the hem up seven times before my feet poked out of the fabric.

Grae, on the other hand, was nearly bursting out of his clothes. His muscled arms and shoulders stretched the fabric at the seams until gaps of his golden-brown skin peeked through the stitching. He’d also snagged a tattered cloak off the line, and, clasped around his neck, it only hung to his knee. At least the hood would be deep enough to hide his face. If Rooks were looking for him on the road, they’d be looking in the capital, too.

I shook my head. We were a sorry-looking pair, but it would have to do. We’d find Galen den’ Mora in the city and get our proper clothes and weapons back.

I glanced one more time at the farmhouse, thinking of the life Briar had always dreamed of—the cottage by the river, the vegetable patch. She and Maez could run through the forests and howl to the moon. I sighed. I just had to defeat a sorceress first. But that life she had daydreamed of pushed me forward, winding back into the forest. We needed those dreams, those bright futures, as much as we needed the sobering truth of the past behind us. Both the hope for the future and pain of the past gave us something to fight for.

Grae walked beside me, taking my hand without looking and giving it a squeeze. The red and gold city peeked above the tree line and I picked up the pace, feeling drawn toward the capital as if pulled by a rope around my waist.

The trees parted and the capital appeared. The city of my birth, a home I couldn’t remember, and yet, I knew this place somehow. Grae pulled the hood of his cloak up, hiding his face in shadow as people meandered the cobbled streets. My eyes trailed the wide river that cut through the city, dropping in little waterfalls down to the dark blue lake. Long white boats ferried out toward the palace, crimson pennants waving from their bows. The castle was stark against the dark lake, brilliant shades of red and gold shimmering like the sun in a cloudless sky.

It was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. Vellia’s drawing didn’t do it justice. My feet walked the worn, smooth cobbles, navigating toward the markets where Galen den’ Mora would be parked. Without thought, I seemed to steer us in the right direction, as if something in my blood recognized this place. A strange familiarity tugged in my chest. The windmills and flower gardens, the town squares and city stables, the glinting gold-flecked stones—I knew them somehow. The smell of freshly baked bread and twittering birds all spoke deep into my soul, like a favorite tune, but with forgotten words, a painting with the edges faded and blurred. But even if I didn’t remember her, Olmdere City remembered me.

Thirty-Seven

We didn’t find Galen den’ Mora in the city square or in the open markets that teemed with people in the corner of town. We decided to meander the stalls while we waited for that massive wagon to come rolling past. Wolves ran faster than oxen could walk and I knew they might be hours behind us still.

We wound through the markets, searching for better clothing and a vendor willing to trade for serilberries. A stall owner peeked up at me over their book, eyeing my clothes and frowning. Trinkets filled every corner of their haberdashery stall. Ribbons hung from the canvas ceiling, baskets of gold buttons lined the tables, and bolts of gauzy fabric leaned against the wall. I gave a half-smile and kept walking.

I paused at a table of herbs, wondering if, after all our travels, Hector still had that vial of nitehock in his possession.

The merchant perked up as we stopped. “What can I get for you?” He lifted a basket of dried lavender to me, raising his brows. “Something aromatic?”

“I’m looking for a particular seed,” I said, squinting at him.

Recognition dawned on his face. He lifted his chin and swallowed, peeking right and left. “You’re not from the capital, are you?”

“We’ve traveled for the celebrations,” Grae said in a smooth tone as he picked up a sprig of rosemary and twirled it in his hands. “A party is the perfect distraction for all manner of misdeeds.”

The merchant wiped a hand over his sweaty brow. “You wouldn’t be the first to try such... misdeeds.” He lifted a basket from below the table and offered it out to us. “What makes you think you will succeed?”

I examined the brown paper packets, different flowers sketched on each one. Flicking through the basket to the very back, I found the drawing of nitehockflowers, their petals bursting out like stars.

“How much?” I asked, lifting the packet as the merchant wiped his rag down his face.

“If you say you’re using it for what I think you are, then it’s free,” he muttered. “But you didn’t get it from me.”

I held his pale gaze. “Thank you.”

“I’ll pray to all the Gods you have better luck than the last.”

“It doesn’t seem as bad here as I was expecting.” Grae looked up and down the market stalls. “Why risk this? Why help us?”

“It’s what you don’t see.” The merchant scowled. “Aye, the bricks are flecked in gold, but what good is that for an empty hearth and silent table?” He sat back on his stool, throwing his rag on the table. “That witch turned my eldest two boys into Rooks. When they left, our whole family fell apart.”

“Her enchantments are strong,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.

“Enchantments?” The merchant furrowed his brow.

“Her compulsions,” I replied. “How she convinces them to join her guard.”

The merchant let out a bitter bellow. “The Rooks are not enchanted, ma’am. They volunteered.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, pain stabbing into my ribs. “What?”

“You thought Sawyn enchanted the Rooks to join her army?”He shook his head. “I suppose her poisonous promises are enchantment enough. But she has pulled people to her side without any incantations at all.”

“That can’t be.” I felt the blood drain from my face as my heart pounded in my ears.