Chapter Text
OVER ONE MONTH LATER
CINDER
The market in the Lower End was busier than ever despite the cold dreary morning. Fishermen sat on crates mending their nets. Nearby hawkers sold wares like fishing line, hooks, hammers, horseshoes, candles, brass buttons, and a thousand other things. Beneath the bustle, tension ran thicker than the dense fog hanging in the air.
Corpsmen patrolled the streets of the Lower End. Trade was locked down. Any ship capable of traveling farther than the nearest little island had been banned from leaving port. Their presence stifled everything. It had been like this for the last month, and it was largely my fault.
If I had left things as they were - more accurately if I hadn't accidentally stolen the king's mage - the Corpsmen would still be up in the wealthy Upper Side, where they belonged. But as it happened, I couldn't keep my hands off of things that didn't belong to me. As a thief, it came with the territory. I wasn't sorry at all. Only sorry for the mess it caused the people in the Lower End. And myself, of course.
I kept my head down as I slipped unnoticed between cobbled-together market stalls and ramshackle houses worn by salty sea water and age. No one took notice of another Lower Ender in a ratty old cloak. They also didn't notice when I helped myself to a few apples here, a couple of eggs there... Only the necessities. Just what I absolutely needed to survive.
Trying to change my life overnight had been relatively unsuccessful. Sure, claiming to want to be someone I could be proud of was one thing, but I needed to eat, and with my face gracing wanted posters on half the buildings in the Lower End, I couldn't exactly stroll into a shop and get proper, upstanding work, even though the market was doing better here than it had in ages.
That was one positive about the new patrols in the Lower End. The king's men had to eat and buy the necessities, so coin was flowing like it hadn't been in decades. Vendors flooded the streets now, targeting the Corpsmen and desperately trying to get their attention. That, too, was fortunate. It made it simple enough for me to sneak past without the Corpsmen taking notice. All I had to do was pick up a basket and pretend I had something to sell, and they'd look the other way faster than a chaste man in a red lantern district.
Once I'd gotten enough food to last a few days, I made my way up toward the small neighborhood that was - as places in the Lower End went - relatively safe. The crowds thinned out as I moved farther and farther from the docks, until finally, all was quiet. Only the occasional sound of a cough, a dog barking, or a horse and wagon clattering over the ill-kept cobblestones disturbed the otherwise silent streets.
I passed an old hat shop, long since closed and now occupied by squatters, and spotted my face on yet another wanted poster. I grimaced and tugged my hood further down before picking up my pace.
I was relieved when I spotted Granny's home - the lantern hanging beside her door burning bright even through the fog - and hurried to the door. I knocked, glancing around as I did so to make sure no one was looking.
The door swung open and Granny waved me inside. "Cinder, come on in! I've got water boiling. Did you bring the eggs?"
I shrugged my pack off my shoulders and opened it, digging out the eggs and handing them to her. "Here you go."
"Do you have any money left over?" she asked.
"Sorry, not this time." I didn't have the heart to tell her the meager sum she'd been used to spending for years wasn't enough anymore. Now that the Corpsmen were here, everyone had upped their prices. I'd been stealing half of what we needed for nearly a week now, and still, Granny was getting a bit thinner. I needed to find more ways to put food on the table. Still, I offered her my best smile when she thanked me for "shopping".
Once Granny had taken all the food, I dropped my pack under the table, kicking it far enough so that it wouldn't be visible beneath the draping fabric of the oversized tablecloth.
"Let me know if you need any help, Granny," I said.
She waved me off.
I left her in the kitchen and slipped into the sitting room, where a fire burned brightly in the hearth, casting a warm orange glow over the ancient, threadbare rug. A few pallets doubling as beds sat in the corner of the room. Alaric and I had been sleeping on those because neither of us was willing to put Granny out of her bed.
Alaric sat on the edge of the rug, near the fire. He had a book in one hand, and a steaming cup of tea in the other. His ocean-blue eyes flicked quickly back and forth as he read, and his expression was as unreadable as always. His lips moved while he read silently to himself. His black hair hadn't been tamed, leading me to suspect he'd only just woken up this morning and not bothered to fix it yet, otherwise, he would've looked neater - which I had discovered was his preference. Of course, there was something about his slightly disheveled look that made my heart beat faster. Perhaps it was because that was how he'd looked the night he'd kissed me a month ago.
My eyes stayed fixed on his lips, and I couldn't help but remember the night. He'd lost so much blood, I thought he would die. It had been close, according to Granny. Alaric came down with a fever two days after we'd arrived, and he was so sick I'd believed he wouldn't make it. I'd panicked and distanced myself from him for my own sake. Days later, his fever broke, and Granny proclaimed he was out of the woods.
Now, because either he didn't remember that night or the kiss, or because of my own need to protect my heart from pain, I didn't dare bring it up to him, so we hadn't spoken about what happened that night. It left us somewhere between whatever we had been before, and whatever we were now.
Alaric glanced up when I came in and I looked away quickly as if caught doing something I shouldn't have been. I felt my cheeks burn, and could only imagine the bright blush giving away my thoughts. Perhaps I could blame that on the cold?
I walked over and sat next to him beside the fire. I stretched my hands toward the crackling flames to warm them and bought myself time to get my thoughts in order. It was so damned difficult to think straight when I was around him these days. I wondered if he struggled with that even half as much as I did, and then I mentally scolded myself for allowing the thought at all.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye. "How are you... I mean, you know? How do you feel?"
"Like I tried to get out of bed this morning and forgot I was down a foot. In my defense, I was only half-conscious. It was a very unpleasant surprise for me when I landed."
I snorted, trying to imagine Alaric doing anything as clumsy as tumbling out of bed due to forgetfulness. It was an interesting image. "I'm sorry."
"Really?"
Finally, I dared to meet his gaze as I smirked. "Yes. Sorry I missed it."
Alaric shook his head. "You enjoy my suffering?"
I sputtered. "No! No, I..."
He nudged me. "I'm teasing."
"We really need to work on your tone. Or maybe do something funny with your eyebrows when you're joking, so I don't feel like a horrible person. Anyway, what're you reading?" I asked, pretending to inspect a stack of books Granny must have brought down from her upstairs bedroom for Alaric.
He held up the book for me. The title proclaimed itself to be "A Treatise on Metalworking." It sounded about as interesting as watching dust gather, but I didn't tell him so.
"Why don't you read fiction?"
"Why would I?" he asked.
"It's interesting."
He offered an unconvinced, "Hm," and then considered me in silence for a few moments. "What would you suggest?"
"Uh... To read?"
"Yes."
I hadn't expected him to take me up on that, and it had been years since I'd done any reading. "I'll think about it, and suggest one..."
A comfortable silence fell between us, and my attention returned to the vibrant flames in the fireplace.
"You still haven't told her," Alaric said, breaking the silence.
"What?"
"That the money ran out."
"That's right, and you're not going to tell her either. She'll never charge her patients any more than she absolutely has to, and she'll feel horrible if she realizes she doesn't have enough to feed all three of us, so she'll eat less."
"I wasn't suggesting you tell her."
"Oh. Why bring it up then?"
"I thought it was kind of you to think of her."
I huffed. "Still trying to reform me?"
"As I recall, you're trying to reform yourself. Does it bother you when I notice you've done something good?"
"I'm just... I'm not used to it. I'm also not used to you spying on me when you're not even there," I said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. His connection to spirits allowed him to snoop unrepentantly, and he abused that power to the fullest extent.
Alaric shrugged.
He closed the book and set it aside, stretching out beside me. I tried not to, but couldn't quite stop myself, as I glanced down at his injured leg. I still felt guilty that he'd ultimately lost a foot because of me. He vehemently argued it was not my fault. I didn't bring it up often because I knew it was still upsetting to him, even if he wouldn't say so... But I hadn't missed the way he winced when he moved it.
"How are you feeling?" I asked again, because he hadn't really answered me before. He'd deflected.
"You don't have to ask me."
"Because you don't want me to, or because you're not used to it?" I asked.
Alaric sighed and ran a hand through his hair before turning away from me to look into the fire. "It still aches. The pain is worse at night. Sometimes I half expect it to be there... I still feel it. But there's little use in moping about something that I can't get back."
"Do you need something for the pain?"
"No, it's manageable."
He was nothing if not pragmatic. I suppose one would have to be if they were constantly bombarded by the dead, either trying to speak to them or possess them. I didn't envy Alaric that particular skill.
That reminded me...
"Oh! I found something I thought you could use." I plucked the metallic object from my pocket and held it out. It was a bit rusted, but I didn't think Alaric would mind.
His eyes brightened and he took the old ring from my hand, turning it over a few times and brushing off the worst of the rust. He beamed at me - only for a second - but the expression lit up his whole face. I'd never seen him smile like that before. It was beautiful and it made my heart ache.
I rarely saw him express his emotions. Certainly not like that. I hadn't expected the tiny little trinket to mean that much. I also didn't expect the way that smile made my breath catch and butterflies flutter in my stomach.
"It's pure iron," he confirmed. "Thank you." Again, he smiled, sliding the ring onto his right hand. He reached toward me, hesitated, then took my hand and gently squeezed it.
I'd picked the ring up out of the mud by the docks on my "shopping" trip, after remembering that Alaric said iron disrupted spirits. Alaric had lost his iron necklace at some point. He never said where, but I knew the spirits sometimes tried to press in on him, and without that protection, he had to be on constant alert, which was difficult when he had to sleep at some point.
Three times this month, I knew for a fact that he'd lost control. All at the worst times. Usually the dead of night. It was terrifying and eerie to see Alaric, but know it wasn't him. Thankfully, he'd regained control quickly each time... But I figured we would both sleep better if he didn't have to worry about being possessed in the dead of night.
"Did you see your friends?" he asked, bringing my attention back to the present.
I shook my head. "No." I hadn't expected to. With the Corpsmen down in the Lower End, Mye would've gone to ground with the rest of his crew, keeping a low profile. I'd been back to the Burrow twice, hoping maybe he'd left a sign there. I didn't want to admit how disappointed I was to find nothing, but I understood that if he left a message someone else might find it.
"Even Kit?" Alaric asked.
I squinted at him. Alaric wasn't forgetful. I knew he remembered the people he'd met, however briefly. It was just odd that he brought Kit up by name. Especially because their last few interactions had mostly been Kit snapping at him, and telling me not to be nice to Alaric because we were going to sell him back to the king for a profit.
"I haven't seen any of them. Why do you ask?"
Alaric shrugged, impossible and secretive as ever.
"Wait a minute..." I said. "You can watch me when I'm away. The spirits are everywhere, right? So you could find them - Mye, Kit, and Kimmie - couldn't you?"
He gave me a flat look, somehow even less enthusiastic than his typical blank stares. I knew before he spoke, exactly what he would say. "I would prefer not to."
I huffed. "Well, thanks a lot. I'll find them myself, eventually."
I got up and left him to his reading. If he wanted to be impossible, then he could go right ahead. I barely ever asked him for anything anyway, so I was annoyed that he didn't want to do this *one* thing I asked. Of course, I understood why. Having the option to say no was important to him. I probably shouldn't snap at him for it, but I missed my friends... I missed Mye, Kimmie, and Kit. I didn't even know if they were alive.
I shook my head. No. They were fine. I had to believe I'd see them again. They were just keeping a low profile to avoid the Corpsmen, that was all.
When I walked into the kitchen, I must've been a bit more forceful than I meant to, because Granny looked up suddenly.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes. Fine. I'm going out." I sounded as annoyed as I felt, and Granny wasn't fooled one bit. Her eyebrows jumped up toward her grey hair, but she didn't try to stop me. I grabbed my cloak from the hook behind the door, swung it over my shoulders, and stepped outside into the foggy morning for the second time today.