19. CHAPTER 19

19

VALERIA

“It is unjust. The pretty fae boy uses magic to conjure his tears. Alas, for me, shedding tears at will is no simple feat.”

Olallo Pardo - Human Actor - 335 DV

I run faster than I ever have. I’m on Esmeralda’s heels matching her step for step. She’s extremely fast and running quite unlike someone who just got bumped in the head. She weaves in and out of the many twisting alleys we traverse, like a hare leaping in fright. I worry that we might run into a dead end. I wish Cuervo was here to guide me, but I have no idea where he has gone. Luckily, Esmeralda seems to know what she’s doing.

My heart has found its way into my throat. It has never knocked against my ribs this frantically, not even during my best sparring matches with Amira.

Scenarios run through my mind where I end up locked in a rotting cell under the watch of the Syvilia guards. Only the gods know what they would do to me, to us. I don’t have my Plumanegra key to prove who I am. If I told them, they would call me crazy, white streak of hair or not. I would rather take my chances with Bastien than a group of random guards .

Ahead, the street is blocked by a tall wooden fence.

No! A dead end like I feared.

Esmeralda keeps going, undeterred.

“This way.” She slides a board to one side and squeezes through the gap.

Relieved, I do the same. Once I’m on the other side, she puts the board back into place and keeps running. A moment later, we spill onto a busy street, lose ourselves in the crowd, then disappear amongst the trees of a nearby wooded area.

Esmeralda collapses on a fallen log and throws her head back, laughing.

I come to a halt, bent at the waist, and brace my hands against stiff knees. I struggle to catch my breath as she keeps cackling like a crazy person.

Staring in disbelief, I shake my head. “What was that about? You nearly got us arrested.”

“Not even close,” she manages between intakes of breath.

“Is that even real blood?” I grab her by the chin and turn her head to one side. There is a red streak that goes from her temple to her jaw.

She slaps my hand away. “Yea, it’s real. That bastardo almost knocked me out. It was worth it, though.” She pulls something from the folds of her skirt. “This is pretty heavy.” A coin purse bounces on the palm of her hand as she assesses its weight.

“You did steal from him,” I say incredulously. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am, which only shows how na?ve and unprepared I am for… for… for everything .

“Of course, you idiot. What did you think we were doing? Playing hide and seek?” She shakes her head, her expression full of annoyance and incredulity of her own .

“Stealing is wrong,” I say, unable to help myself. Clearly, she doesn’t care about the morality of it all. If she did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“If it’s so wrong, how come the rich do it all the time? They take more than their fair share from other folk and call it enterprising. Yet when those who have nothing try to even the score, they’re labeled as thieves and condemned to rot in jail forever.”

“It’s… It’s not like that.”

She spurts a laugh and rises to her feet. “I guess you wouldn’t think so, rich girl that you are.”

“I’m…” My instinct is to deny I’m rich because it feels like an accusation, but I trail off.

“What? You thought we wouldn’t notice? With your fine leggings and tunic, hair as shiny as a show horse.” There is so much contempt in her voice that she sounds exactly like that man. He talked to me with repulsion because he thought I was poor. Esmeralda is addressing me the same way because of the exact opposite.

Is this how everyone in Castella feels about people like me?

I grew up with the knowledge that Father was a good king, who did right by his people. I knew the fae hated him, but I imagined everyone else loved him. And now, for the first time, I contemplate the possibility that this isn’t the case.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m no one and have no right to judge you or anybody else.”

I turn away from her, conflicting emotions wreaking havoc inside my chest and head. There is so much happening so fast that I find myself doubting everything I know. I thought my little excursions into Castellina had made me savvy and expanded my horizons, but now I realize Father thoroughly succeeded in sheltering me from the real world.

“I’m sorry, too,” Esmeralda says. “I said those things in the heat of the moment. You seem nice enough, and you’re down on your luck, worse off than we are, I wager. The troop is family, and we stick together, but you’re all alone.”

Her words hit me like fists pounding against my chest, and sudden tears start running down my face in a deluge.

“Hey, hey.” She comes closer, and the next thing I know I’m in her arms, sobbing like I haven’t sobbed in a long time—perhaps even since the day Mother died. The feeling of oppressive loneliness that pushes against me in this moment is not unlike what I felt when I lost her. Perhaps, I’m just starting to truly mourn Father.

Esmeralda doesn’t say anything. She only holds me tight and rocks slightly from side to side until my tears dry out, and I push away, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I don’t normally cry like that.” I hate crying in front of people. I hate showing any sort of vulnerability.

“I don’t know what trials you’ve been through, ni?a, but they’ve left their mark for sure,” Esmeralda says, holding me at arm’s length.

I pull away and turn my back on her. Swatting at my face, I wipe away the tears. The last few days have been too much , I tell myself. Of course, you lost control. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about . And yet… I hate myself for letting my emotions get the best of me.

Luckily, Esmeralda seems to understand, and she changes the subject. “We can’t go back to the troop. We’ll stay here until nightfall, then meet them at the edge of town.”

I clear my throat. “What you did won’t get them in trouble?”

“Nah, they’ll be fine. The guards might go looking for us, but they won’t find us, will they?”

“But won’t they figure out we came to town with the troop?”

She shakes her head. “They can’t prove it. We’re wanderers. We come and go in troops or alone. They would have to arrest every single one of us. They’d love to do that, don’t get me wrong, but it wouldn’t be practical. ”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course, I am.”

Sighing, I ease myself onto a patch of grass and cross my legs. Nightfall is in six hours, so I may as well get comfortable.