Page 5

No more deals.

No more broken promises.

No more painful days or endless nights.

It all ends—andsoon.

Free. She would finally be free. And no one from Telldaira could stop her.

Alora shoved the dagger back into her boot and rose.I’ll do what I damn please.

Running away wasn’t nearly as easy as they say. It sounded simple enough. Breathe through the fear; walk through the fire. Get burned along the way. Then, once through the flames, turn back and watch everything fall to ashes.

Everyone said it. Then again, not everyone had to live like she did.

Not everyone had their legs quaking, blood draining from their face with every step on the soaked stones of the street. Not everyone struggled to determine the roaring of thunder from their own thoughts because their own personal Firekeeper-filled-hell lay ahead.

Claws waited to rip her apart.

Alora’s nails dug into the purse inside her cloak for fear it wasn’t real. She loosened a calm breath when the cold metal kissed her fingertips.

Twenty-five coins.

It was real.

For years, she’d fantasized about running away—escaping—a new, peaceful life. Never more than hopeless thoughts and useless wishes. Dreams to brighten her never-ending nightmare. She survived, had a decent life, and was accommodated with life’s necessities. Bruises had meant nothing for a while. Kaine promised he’d stop, and she even believed him for longer than she should have. At least she was alive. Didn’t need to suffer through hunger anymore, or the humiliation of tattered and torn clothing. She was aladyfor-stars-sake.

Many would envy her. Say that the stars had blessed her with her life. But no one saw what was behind the closed manor doors. No one heard the shouts. No one felt the tremble in her body when he came near. Saw the fear in her eyes when his palm would lift to caress her cheek in public but wound it in private, illusioning himself as the perfect lord.

That was not a blessing.

That was not living.

The stars would never gift such torment.

Warmth bit inside her shaking fist like a star ready to burst as she quickened her steps.

Good. Get angry. Let the anger drive you.

The voice was right, like usual. She was angry but also wholly terrified. A constant balance these days. But in only a few days, her suffering would be ashes in the wind.

A chilling northern breeze whipped her face, spraying beads of water that had collected on rooftops over the wool of her cloak.

She’d taken the alleys from the south. A labyrinth of routes that only those who grew up on the streets knew about. Coined as the ‘underground’, it stretched from the southern walls until it reached the smuggler caves of the northern cliffs, an easily accessible maze to bypass the guardsmen who stalked the streets. Keeping gutter rats like her out of the most extensive and illusive parts of Telldaira. She knew the way like she knew her own heartbeat. Only one more alley would leave her jumping down into a tunnel, and a short incline at the end would welcome her into a lush garden in the west. Theprivilegedsection of the city. Home to nobility—and the rich.

Alora hesitated.

Just as she was about to cross into another alley of back-to-back run-down structures, on the main street, the shrieks of an elder male echoed off the buildings. His desperation tore a deep gash in her heart.

Gripping the condemned wooden building under her palm, splinters threatened to spike her skin as she strained to hear. Though he was shouting, he was still far away. Likely down the street a ways from the echoes. But his cries were earth-shattering all the same.

So, Alora stepped forward, down the alley, letting the peaking sun through the drifting storm clouds warm her face.

The main street housed businesses for the lower class. Unlike the shops in the north and west, these storefronts were mostly the same. Earth tones, dusty brick, or rotting wood held together by poor patch jobs and prayers. Little shrubbery orpots of flowers to brighten any frowns due to empty pockets and ruthless hunger. Most couldn’t afford their businesses, let alone decorations.

That all changed the moment the inner southern gates met the rest of the city.

Telldaira had all but given up on the south, and the guarded gates let the faeries who could only afford to live there know it. No one could pass through unless given special passes. No exceptions. No pity. She held one of them but had never needed it, thanks to the underground.