Page 36 of Death of a Mortal

I looked back up at the fae, and before I could do anything foolish, I heard Nella speak.

“We’re so sorry, sir, our master sent us to get him some…new chains. For the new mortals on staff.”

“Who’s your master?” he asked, less angry than before but still skeptical. And still with fire in his hands.

“Say Haskin. Say Lord Haskin.”

“Lord Haskin, sir,” I said through gritted teeth.

The fire went out from the fae’s hands. Thank gods. My anger was still reeling, though.

“Grab the chains he needs and get out. I’ll be talking to Lord Haskin about your disrespect.” He was looking at me. “Looking me in the eye, wrecking half my shop…I expect there’ll be a good whipping in your future,mortal.”

The irony about respect wasn’t lost on me. Fae were typically referred to as “male” and “female.” They felt that “man” and “woman,” were too mortal and humanizing for them. Beneath them. And yetwewere the disrespectful ones…

I opened my mouth to fire back, but Nella’s hand on my back stopped me.

“Thank you, sir. Sorry, sir.” Nella was better at control than I was.

She went back to the chains, grabbed two more to keep up the lie, and we left the shop.

“Who is Lord Haskin?”I asked Noxie.

“I suspect, a lord namedHaskin.”

“Funny.”

“You gotta learn to control that anger. It almost got you both in serious trouble.”

I let out a long breath. I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. That anger I’d felt, I had felt it before, too, and it burned hot and uncontrollable. It felt like a creature in my chest spitting fire, spurring my actions. I didn’t know where it came from. But each time I felt it was like an out-of-body experience.

I didn’t respond to Noxie. We just walked on, putting distance between us and the smith asshole. He was on my kill list now—Cassius. Aemilia. Caedryn. Purple-eyed blacksmith.

* * *

For two days,we wandered the streets by day and slipped down the alley and up the ladder to sleep on the roof by night. We never stayed in or around one shop for too long, to not draw unwanted attention. We used Haskin’s name if ever we were questioned. So far, it had worked like a charm, but I feared our luck might run out eventually.

“He is a real fae, you know. It’s only a matter of time until he shows up,” Noxie had said.

We’d seen so many more fae in our days on the streets, each with different distinguishing characteristics.

One female had sleek, bright-blue hair and was stark naked, wearing nothing but a layer of clear water over her skin, distorting her features. While most fae were clothed, she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t.

It was a real shock when we watched a male take off running and turn into a large white wolf mid-stride, leaving his torn clothes behind. A Veythryn. Form-shifter. I supposed this was why being naked was normalized.

Most of the magical displays we’d seen were elemental magic, like the naked water female and the fire-fisted blacksmith. Another with spiky blonde hair was seen zapping his mortals for fun as they walkedthe streets. This reminded me of Aemilia’s lightning and triggered my anger again as I felt the scars on my face twinge.

I supposed the elementals hadn’t gotten a fancy name like the Veythryn and Umbrathren, since they were common. Every fae had an elemental ability, but not all had second forms or dark magic associated with Veythryn or Umbrathren, respectively.

Even fewer in numbers out in the city than the Veythryn were nobles, distinguished always in their green and gold with Ashenholt’s crest on their chest or arms—the Ashen Crown, I heard it called. A gray crown of thorns with a single green flame in the center, as if lit from a candlestick, with Caedryn’s motto embossed in gold below—“Fortitudo. Legatum. Ordo. Potestas.” Strength. Legacy. Order. Power. The words of a tyrant.

Our recon hadn’t come up with anything yet in the way of my mom and the rebellion. I was beginning to think we would need to talk to the mortals, which we learned wasn’t safe out in public. On our first day walking the streets, we found another mortal alone, shopping for new shoes for her fae master. We asked her if she had heard the rumors about a rebellion, thinking this was a safer approach than flat-out asking about it or my mom…

She responded by telling us not to talk to her, then put the shoes back and left the shop.

But if we were to gain the trust of some mortals, they might talk to us if we were somewhere private. However, privacy was hard to find in a busy city like Dolvenar. It felt like someone was watching us everywhere we went, but each time I turned around, I found no one there.

We were at the end of day three in the capital, and after another unsuccessful day, we returned to our alley and up the ladder. The glamour and allure of the city were wearing off, and we grew irritated with the lack of information and surviving on scraps we could swipe without being noticed—and with sleeping on a hard roof.