Page 5

It is well past four in the afternoon before Cara and I decide to call it a day and lock up The Violet Lily Shop.

“Uhh, my feet are aching,” Cara groans while closing down the shop. “I request access to the washroom first tonight.”

“That’s for the best,” I say, pinching my nose. “I can smell your feet from here.”

Cara cuts a scathing look in my direction. “My feet might have a stench, but at least I don’t have the morning breath of an ogre,” she quips.

“I do not!” I retort.

“Oh, you do, but it’s okay. I still love you, even if your breath could cause ten grown men to drop dead,” she replies mockingly.

I toss her cloak at her head.

“There is no way it is truly that bad. Especially not in comparison to your feet,” I say incredulously.

“You’re right,” she says, smirking. “It’s worse.”

I feign anger, which quickly dissolves into fits of giggles. No matter how relentlessly we tease one another, I’ve never laughed more than when I am with Cara. She naturally has the ability to rile me up, while simultaneously making me laugh until my sides ache.

We step out of the door into the crisp air of Aurelius.

As she removes the key from around her neck, I cannot help but stare in awe at our little business.

The outside of our shop is just as magical as it is within.

The dark stone is beautifully adorned with numerous styles of outdoor planters that swing rhythmically with the wind.

Ivy grows around the trellis that we constructed when we bought the building a few years prior.

The ivy twists up the siding as if it’s trying to reach Eternity.

The door is simple, made from a rich, dark-colored pine.

The ornate windows truly make the little shop appear remarkable.

Aurelius on the outside is dire and gloomy.

Most of the residents are miserable folk that wouldn’t even give a sideways glance to someone passing by.

Yet, when looking in the windows of our little shop, it feels as though passersby are transported out of the bleakness into a time when everything was still vibrant and lively.

After making sure that all three locks are secured, Cara and I begin the fifteen-minute walk through the village toward the home that we share with her parents and five rowdy siblings.

We are almost to the edge of the square when a screech tears through the sky, causing the patrons to stop in their tracks.

Turning around, I witness a woman being dragged from a nearby townhouse by her mousy-brown hair.

The captain of the soldiers, in his usual dark steel uniform, heaves her forward as she pleads for mercy.

Her screams fall on deaf ears, as he drags her to the middle of the square—just a few yards away from our shop.

The captain roughly releases her hair, only to kick her.

The sickening crunch of her ribs with each of his blows forces me to wince.

Anger stirs deep in my chest. Such cruelty should never be tolerated, and yet this is an everyday occurrence in Aurelius.

Once the captain completes his assault, he straightens to address the crowd of patrons in a booming voice.

“Citizens of Aurelius. Today, I present to you a traitor in our midst. This woman is secretly harboring an individual whose ability is worthy enough to join King Tiernan’s army.”

Blood oozes from the woman’s mouth. “I… di-didn’t know… that h-he… was a… fire wielder,” the woman wheezes in between grimaces of pain.

The cruel soldier stoops low, yanking the woman up so forcefully that she yelps. He snaps her head back so we can see her face, and it is then that I recognize her. Her name is Mallie. She is a year younger than me and is an apprentice at the dressmaker’s shop.

What was she thinking?

A fire wielder is a commodity for the army when the king decides to ravage villages. It is one of the most sought after abilities by the king and his soldiers—to harbor one that does not wish to enlist is treason.

“Blasphemy!” he bellows. “You not only gave him refuge. You also allowed him to evade my men as we sought him out. You made a poor choice.” Then, his right hand glows with a small, deep-red flame. Mallie’s eyes widen in terror as the captain reaches for her forearms.

“Holy Celestae,” I whisper to Cara. “He’s going to burn her.”

Mallie screams in agony as his flames char her flesh. After several moments, he releases her—revealing Mallie’s now bloody, mangled arms.

“He’s beyond cruel,” Cara whispers back.

Rather proud of himself, the captain turns to address the crowd.

“Can any of you refute the charges of this woman?” he asks.

No one says a word.

I shuffle my feet to move forward, but Cara swiftly catches hold of my arm, subtly shaking her head.

“You mustn’t ,” she whispers. “He’ll kill you, too.”

She is right, which only makes my gut twist.

I cannot speak up for Mallie. It would only make matters worse.

Defending the accused only places the spokesperson in the same predicament as the one that’s already implicated.

The soldiers care nothing for justice, but plenty for bloodshed.

King Tiernan gave them free reign over each of the cities, towns, and villages that they invaded in Malvoria.

The only ones that outrank them are the legendary general and his cadre of warriors.

They’re not individuals any village wishes to see, as they’re far more vicious than the current brutes stationed here.

As the silence carries on, the captain grunts in approval.

“Well, if there are no witnesses to defend this woman,” he says, smiling maliciously. “I sentence her to the beasts of the wood.”