Page 51

Kameel leans over the map, tracing the lines with a finger.

“The granaries are up north. If you look to the east, that’s where the slums are.

The market is located in the center, and residential areas extend to the south.

The West, that’s where the nobles and the Martysh ranks live.

” There’s a familiarity in his tone as if he’s been a stray cat in Shemiran in his past life.

We are gathered around him in front of the same stables where we left our horses during my last visit to Shemiran with the Izadeonians. This time, however, the experience is far less enjoyable.

I am surrounded by a crowd of people who are supposed to be my allies, but they feel more like foes. And I can’t help but wonder how we are supposed to locate those small coins in Shemiran’s endless maze of streets and buildings.

Zanyar designates each pair a specific area to search, and I am assigned to search the market with Sir Sunshine and Rainbows himself.

Meanwhile, Roshana is shooting daggers at me with her eyes as if I somehow rigged the trial’s rules and wanted to spend the next few hours with the heir they never had .

“Don’t waste your time searching for the coins themselves or rummaging through buildings. Focus on finding clues or any signs that might lead us to where the coins could be hidden. We will meet back here at sundown.”

Everyone nods and heads off to their assigned areas. As we stroll through the busy main square toward the market, I point to the red eight-pointed stars embedded in some of the cobblestones. “The stars on the ground. I noticed them last time. Some streets have them, and some don’t.”

“Those are markers leading to the main Temple of the Nine. Follow them, and you’ll find your way to the temple no matter where you are in town. They are in every major city.”

I was feeling a little smug about finding a clue, just to remember that I had been living under a rock up until two moons ago, so I shut my mouth.

However, Zanyar surprises me with his next words.

“I assume you haven’t visited another city.

I recall you never joined the summer trips to Firetown with the other students. ”

I frown at him, but his gaze is too distracted by surveying his surroundings to notice. He recalls… that? Ummm… How? I was four years younger than him, and we were in totally different circles. He was surrounded by nobles and admirers, while my circle was, well, me .

“It wasn’t exactly a choice. The coin for the carriage and lodgings was far beyond my reach,” I mutter, trying to hide my surprise as I catch up to him.

“I always thought it was unfair that the students had to pay for the trip,” Zanyar says. “I asked Ahira Emmengar to cover the cost for everyone, but he said it wasn’t important enough to discuss with the council.”

Were there other students who couldn’t afford it?

I thought I was the only one struggling.

Even though sorcerers came from all walks of life, even the youths from dirt-poor families usually had a few coins to rub together for essentials like a quick trip to Firetown, especially since Firelands supported sorcerers’s families.

They didn’t want any sorcerers to leave Firelands due to concerns about their family’s well-being.

For many poor families, having a sorcerer child is a golden ticket—a way out of poverty, thanks to Firelands’s generous offerings.

“I didn’t know there were others who couldn’t afford the trip. It’s hilarious when you think about it. We were learning to bend the elements and control the world around us, but some of us didn’t have enough control to scrape together coins for a short trip.”

“Why didn’t you go after school was over? You got paid during your alchemy days.”

“I was too petty. I wanted to save every coin I could for my journey to Jahanwatch.”

“When did you decide to join Martysh?” His voice is casual, but his gaze, when he turns to me, is anything but. It’s probing.

“When I was eleven,” I say, meeting his gaze.

A brief, almost imperceptible widening of his eyes is the only sign of his surprise. “What made you decide so young?”

I hesitate, trying to grasp the absurdity of the situation.

I, Arien, the girl who once stumbled over her own feet to avoid eye contact with a potted plant, am now casually chatting with Zanyar Zareen about my past. The same guy who was a mythical creature back at Fire Temple.

The one most people wouldn’t dare approach, even if he was on fire and they had a bucket of water.

Yet here I am, strolling through the streets of Shemiran with him, discussing my empty pockets as if it’s no big feat. What has my life turned into?

But the strangeness of the moment is overshadowed by a nagging feeling that urges me to be cautious and keep my secrets close. I hardly know this man, and sharing my past, especially the darker, lonelier times that starkly contrast with his seemingly perfect life, feels like a significant risk.

Deciding to keep my response short and intentionally vague, I say, “I read a book about Martysh and decided I wanted to join.”

But he surprises me again with his next words. “I assume it was during the winter break.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Um… yes. How did you know?”

His gaze shifts away, scanning the crowded street, but his words are too knowing. “Just a guess. You looked overwhelmed with studies during the school year. You must have had a lot more free time during the winter breaks, being in the castle alone. It must have been lonely.”

My heart skips a beat. That was exactly what had happened. During winter, we had no school, and most pupils either went to visit their families or stayed in Firetown. I, however, had to stay in the Fire Temple, feeling like a forgotten sock under the bed .

“Yes,” I mumble, still slightly dazed by him knowing this detail about my past. “It was lonely.”

“Must have been.” It is almost like he understands , even though I can’t imagine someone like Zanyar Zareen ever experiencing anything close to loneliness.

“It wasn’t all bad. I had the entire library to myself, and that’s where I discovered a book about Martysh’s missions beyond the continent. The idea of not only traveling across the Asyrion continent but also sailing to other lands seemed like the opposite of my predicament.”

Zanyar nods slowly, his gaze still fixed on the street scene around us, but I sense he’s listening, really listening. “I understand that,” he says with a thoughtful tone. “The allure of the unknown. The mystery of what lies beyond the horizon. The urge to escape the familiar. The expected.”

We walk in a comfortable, companionable silence for a while.

I can’t help but wonder if he’s speaking from his own experiences.

I find myself wondering, with a sudden, sharp curiosity, if he, too, had once felt that same restless desire, that same longing for a life beyond the confines of his own world.

It’s a tantalizing thought, a glimpse into the hidden depths of this enigmatic, infuriating, compelling man.

“Even if you went to Firetown, you wouldn’t have seen those stars in the cobblestones,” he suddenly says. “There is no Temple of the Nine in Firelands.”

We wander around the market, my eyes scanning everything from the people to the buildings. The last time I’d been here with Darian, I’d been full of wonder and joy, almost bouncing off the walls. Now, I am more focused, my eyes searching for clues.

Suddenly, I remember something from my previous visit. “There’s a narrow street on the south side.” I point at it. “A vendor told me Shemiran had its charms if you know where to look.”

Zanyar nods. “We have to start somewhere.”

With that, we walk toward the south side of the market and down the narrow street, which forces us into a single file.

After several steps, it begins to widen, albeit only slightly.

We approach a row of establishments with their doors standing wide open.

Outside the first house, a group of elegantly dressed women gazes at us.

As we approach, one of the women winks at Zanyar.

Her intention is unmistakable, and I can’t help but stare at her in disbelief.

However, Zanyar walks by as if nothing has happened.

As we keep moving, we come across more odd sights and dubious figures until I notice a group of women, their breasts barely covered by lace undergarments, and finally realize where we are.

Words fail me. I’ve led us straight to the brothel district. I’m so embarrassed that I don’t dare look at Zanyar and hurry my steps, trying to get out of this district as quickly as I can.

But the street only widens into a full-blown marketplace of sin, and let me tell you, business is booming.

The brothels gradually become more opulent, and the sounds of laughter, moans, and the clinking of glasses reach from every side.

As we walk deeper into the district, the air grows more intense, the women more brazen, and their offers more explicit.

“Come on over, handsome,” one of the women calls out to Zanyar, her voice dripping with honey. “You’re a breath of fresh air compared to the fellows I’ve had today.”

Zanyar ignores her, his expression unchanging and his stride unwavering. I, on the other hand, am mortified. I can feel the heat crawling up my neck, engulfing my face in a fiery blush. We reach a narrow alleyway between two imposing buildings, and Zanyar stops, finally turning to me.

I open my mouth to explain, to apologize, but nothing comes out except a strangled squeak. Zanyar just stares, his face bearing an unnerving, unreadable expression.

“Are you sure you were looking for coins?” he asks with a smooth voice. “Or maybe it was something else entirely?”

Gods. Is he… ? He is . He’s teasing me. Zanyar Zareen, the man in the form of a glacier, is making a joke. A nervous laugh escapes my lips, shaky and high-pitched.