Marked

Chapter 2

]"Oof– I'm sorry!" The man in front of her quipped as she bumped into his front, nearly losing her balance.

"My apologies," she murmured, and wove her way deeper into the crowd. Soon, she was engulfed by the sea of bodies in the market.

She dug the little bag of coins she swiped from his inner pocket, opening the small velvet purse to quickly count her winnings.

10 silver. Not bad.

The market was stationed in between a narrow road of houses. The buildings were gray with windows carved into the stone, curtains dancing in the breeze as the wind swept through the buildings. Hearty wooden signs were nailed into some of the buildings, indicating a bakery or a barber or a blacksmith sprinkled amongst the homes on this street. Here in the valley, most of the houses were short, only a single story, while the more wealthy were able to afford a second or sometimes third story. They were all built so close together that only small tufts of grass could grow between them, with alleyways providing shortcuts from one street to the next. The rooftops were square and flat in the human districts, unlike the towers and domes of the Fae region to the north. She looked to the Fae city, nestled amongst mountainous peaks, buildings with arches and balconies and spires. At the peak of the tallest mountain stood the Kings palace. It shone white with the silver from the mines that lined the edges of the stone and the glass windows, ever a beacon of prosperity and wealth. The towers of the palace were grand and stretched towards the sky like shadows during the sunset. Gardens were dotted around its circumference, patches of lush green and pinks and whites adorning the castle in color. In the very top of the tallest building stood a great room with floor to ceiling windows, where the King was often said to be watching over the districts with his council of elder Fae.

Roe had looked at the palace so many times during her life, wondering what the districts below looked like to him. If he could see the suffering that was prevalent in their daily life or if he chose to ignore it. Or maybe it served them, having the humans so weak and hungry that they could never rise up and take some of that opulence for themselves.

She turned her attention back to her surroundings, taking in the air of excitement that buzzed through the crowd. Everyone was out today, Saturday's often being the busiest day to attend. The market was a ramshackle gathering of people; merchants were crouched in dirt, their wares spread across blankets and tapestries, feet blackened with dust from the dirt road. Knobbly fingers pointed towards some of the more premium items, while clever tongues wove stories of good luck charms and knives that would never miss their mark. Anything and everything was for sale, from fruit, to breads, to knives, bows, and swords. Some merchants had their goods spread across tables, little pieces of parchment indicating prices and declaring that there were no refunds.

It had been hot for the last few weeks, but the weather had finally settled into autumn breezes that wrapped their way around the crowd, dusting between people as they shopped. Miraxis was warm for a majority of the year, and she knew they were somewhere southern, although maps of the greater continent had mostly been destroyed when the king came to rule two millennia ago. The only ones who had maps in Miraxis were those approved to take trade routes to other cities in the greater continent of Leiona. They were often accompanied by soldiers and knights, to ensure that they made it through the dangerous wilds that surrounded Miraxis, home to the Daemon and other unsavory beasts of legend. The city of Miraxis mostly prospered from slaves who tilled the mines deep inside the mountains; humans who had broken the law, rebellious factions that were caught and thoroughly snuffled out, and those who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The mines were plentiful in raw silver, which was a rarity across Leiona from what she had read in history books. This was the source of Miraxis' wealth, which was only shared amongst the Fae. She had heard of the cruelty of the overseers at the mines, whipping ribbons out of the backs of those who disobeyed, or had breathed the wrong way. It was an ever-present threat to the people of Miraxis, warning them to stay within their lines and remember who was in charge.

The threat of becoming enslaved was what had sharpened her skills over the years, honing her abilities to keep herself under the radar. Her skill would be evident to anyone who was smart enough to keep an eye on her as she kept dancing through the crowd, occasionally bumping into people or slipping her hands into an unsuspecting pocket. It was like second nature; if it was reachable, it was for the taking. The market preened with life, people shouting out their wares, bargaining, and speaking amongst themselves in throngs that the crowd parted around like waves. She swiped an apple from a merchant's table while he was preoccupied with another customer and was gone before he finished.

She dug her teeth into it, savoring the sour taste and brightness of the fruit. When she finished, she dropped it on the ground in front of a horse tied up next to a trough. The horse gobbled it up greedily, and she stopped for a moment to stroke his nose. He, like other creatures and humans in the district, was starving, trough nearly empty. For a moment, she pitied him, giving him one final pat before moving back through the crowd once more.

Roe saw her next target a couple yards ahead of her, and angled her body through a gap to catch up to him. It was strange; his cloak was dark blue, which was a dye that was hard to come by in this area. The material was a fine fabric with whorls of cerulean that were so subtle that she only noticed when she was close enough to touch him. Strange indeed.

She eyed the pocket of his cloak as he moved effortlessly through the thick wall of bodies, making it hard for her to keep up. Finally, he stopped in front of a group that had paused to look at something on a table. She saw her chance.

Roe slipped her hand into his pocket, and her fingers brushed around a rough piece of stone. She swiped it from him and faded into the throng behind her before heading in the opposite direction. When she was far enough away, she pulled the piece of stone out of her pocket.

It looked to be a piece of a larger circle, the size of a silver coin with a half of a crescent carved out of the face. The crescent was raised, and she ran her finger over it as she noticed the faint blue specks that ran throughout. They almost sparkled in the sun. The stone was rough on the edge it had been cleaved in half at and almost seemed to sing in the palm of her hand. She had expected coins, or something of more value given the luxurious texture of his cloak, but something about it gave her the impression that it wasn't what it seemed. Dropping it back into her pocket, she made her exit from the market, turning down a side street that was notably less packed.

She was thirsty. Although the breezes were cool, she had still spent a few hours out in the sun, and could use a drink. Ducking into an alleyway, she scaled the side of the building and hoisted herself up onto the roof. It was safer to travel on rooftops than through the alleys and streets below, and it gave her a vantage point over any unsavory individuals that may see her as an easy target. Plus, all of the buildings were so close together that it didn't take that much effort to travel this way. She broke into a light jog, then a sprint, hopping over edges and up walls, feeling the breeze carry strands of her hair out of her braid. She loved to run, the feeling of freedom and knowledge that her legs could carry her anywhere if she only tried. Her blood pumping reminded her that she was alive, and she treasured that feeling because there had been so many times where she had wished she was not.

She knew she had reached the middle district when the houses were no longer two and three stories, and there were less alleyways to jump over. She was almost to her favorite watering hole, one that she felt rivaled the taverns in the upper district, but without so many stuffy and insufferable bastards. Sometimes they even had red wine, which was her personal favorite, although it was rare. Dropping down the side of the building she was on top of, she landed directly in front of the double doors of the tavern, dust puffing into the air around her feet. She hoped they would have wine as she pushed open the doors, bathing the dimly lit room in sunlight.

The doors clattered behind her, but no one looked up from their conversations. There was a hum of voices throughout the room, with some groups louder than others. Laughter boomed from the right side as someone said something particularly funny. The tavern was windowless by design, with brassy sconces holding candles to illuminate the room. The wax dripped from the candles to the floor, running over the sconces and into a puddle. Paintings were hung on the walls crookedly, bumped into over and over again by people too drunk to keep their balance. Art was rare in the middle district, but the owner's daughter was a painter and had nowhere to display her works aside from her father's bar. Suzina had told Roe once she did it for fun, and that she wouldn't be able to sell anything anyways. It made her happy that they were somewhere they could be seen.