Artemis

  The cart creaked as it moved, the sound carrying all the way to where I was sitting. Wood complaining against iron, the constant sound of a single horse pulling more weight than it should.

  I watched from the rise above the road, crouched low among scrub and broken stone. From here, the land sloped gently downward, rolling into a shallow basin before rising again toward the tree line in the distance.

  The horse plodded along at a patient pace, head low, the reins slack in Dryke’s hands. Dryke didn’t guide it so much as sit there, as though trusting the horse to follow a road they both knew by heart.

  Crates stacked neatly along the bed of the cart, wrapped in burlap and twine. Sacks of food tucked beneath them, their seams darkened where oil or fat had soaked through. There was a barrel lashed to the rear. Ale, most likely.

  And there—half-hidden beneath canvas, tied off with more care than the rest—a bundled bushel wrapped thick enough to keep its contents dry.

  Quicklime.

  Dryke glanced back once, and not for the first time. His eyes kept returning to the road behind him, never quiet convinced he was alone. I was glad I had tracked on foot. A man this cautious would’ve turned back the instant he saw riders.

  I’d been on his trail for hours now.

  When Dryke had turned off the main route and down a narrow game trail, Celeste and Lioren had kept riding straight. Exactly as planned. As guarded as he was, three mounted travelers following him any farther would’ve set every alarm bell ringing in his head.

  That was where we split.

  I jumped off from the back of Celeste’s horse and told them to camp just off the road and wait for me to return. They both agreed without complaint.

  I ran after him on foot, Wind Casting guiding my way on silent wings, keeping to the shadows when the land allowed it. When it didn’t, I raced ahead, burning distance to gain height so I could watch him from above without ever letting him feel eyes on his back.

  Like now.

  The sun had dipped low enough that the light was thinning, stretching long shadows across the basin below. Dryke had taken so many side trails that the ground beneath him changed with each league.

  It shouldn’t be much farther now.

  I let myself breathe.

  There were things you couldn’t outrun, no matter how fast you moved.

  The bakery room had gone quiet after my last words. I could hear the city outside in muffled fragments, but in that moment all I felt was as if the world had narrowed to the three of us.

  “There’s more you need to know about me,” I said.

  Lioren had studied me for a long second, brows drawn, moving subtly like he was bracing for something physical instead of spoken. “I’m listenin’,” he said.

  I looked to Celeste without meaning to. She hadn’t moved, but just seeing her anchored me in the moment—an absurd comfort I didn’t bother denying.

  I looked back at Lioren. “I’m an Aberration,” I said at last, naming something I hadn’t spoken aloud in decades. At least not to anyone but Celeste.

  The word hung there, bare and unadorned.

  Lioren blinked. Then his brow creased deeper, confusion overtaking whatever suspicion he’d been carrying. His gaze flicked to Celeste, then back to me. “An Aberration? Like Celeste?”

  I nodded once. “Yes. Just like Celeste.”

  Lioren’s eyes bored into me. “So what can you do?” he asked, as though preparing himself for the answer.

  “Wind. Fire. Water.” I paused. “Ice and Healing. Variants of both.” I let the words land plainly, without flourish. They’d stopped feeling dramatic a long time ago.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Celeste shift. She’d probably felt a little shocked by how easily I had said it—by the fact that I wasn’t guarding it anymore. There wasn’t much point in pretending it was still mine to hide.

  Lioren didn’t speak right away. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, staring at the floor as if it might correct everything he’d ever known about the world.

  “Five.” He looked up slowly. “Five,” he repeated, like he was testing the word. “You can Cast five elements?”

  I said nothing.

  Lioren let out a slow breath, shaking his head once. “I’ve never even heard stories of such a thing. The closest I can recall believin’ it possible was when I was a young lad, playin’ at pretend—actin’ like we could Cast every element. And yet… here you are, damn near that.”

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  His mouth twitched, caught between disbelief and something else, the look in his eyes changing with it.

  He met my eyes once more. “That makes you… saints,” he muttered. “That makes you the kind of thing people write legends about.”

  I held his gaze. “I’m just a man,” I said.

  “That’s blight-rot.”

  Celeste’s head snapped up. “Lioren.”

  He didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on me, bright now, alive with something that bordered on excitement. “If what you’re sayin’ is true—and I don’t take you for a liar—then you’re not just a man.”

  He leaned back slightly, like the thought needed space to breathe.

  “You’re a one-man army,” he went on. “Five elements. Base affinities and Variants.” He shook his head, a sharp disbelieving laugh slipping out. “You’re the High Commanders wet dream. The Triarchy would trade a thousand Casters without blinkin’ if it meant puttin’ you on a field under their banner.”

  Celeste surged to her feet. “That’s enough—”

  “I’m not threatin’ him,” Lioren shot back, finally glancing her way. “I’m tellin’ the truth.”

  “Or you get hunted until there’s nothing left,” I said evenly. “That’s where I am now.”

  The words cut through his momentum at last.

  Lioren stared back at me, the excitement draining from his face as what I’d said began to sink in.

  “I waited to escape. I needed distance. Far enough that if they followed, they wouldn’t circle back here first.” My gaze flicked briefly to Celeste. “If they started tearing through this city searching for me, it would ruin any chance she had of finding the Black Veil.”

  Celeste didn’t interrupt. Her eyes stayed on me as I went on.

  “I waited too long. I thought I was careful. The Magister was smarter than I gave him credit for. He outmaneuvered me.” The admission tasted bitter in my mouth. “Cornered me badly enough that I had to fight with everything that I had—everything I am. I escaped. But not before he swore the whole of AurenVale would know what I am.” I turned to Celeste. “And hunt me for it.”

  Celeste drew a breath. “Art—”

  She didn’t finish.

  Lioren’s gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders dropping as if they’d suddenly gotten heavier.

  “I’ve already made my peace with it,” I said. “The hunt. My secret. Peace isn’t something I get anymore.”

  I let out a deep breath. “This isn’t the Black Veil. There won’t be quiet bounties passed in back rooms. No slavers keeping their names off parchment. When they decide to move, they’ll do it openly. Notices. Boards. My face where anyone can see it.”

  I looked between them. “I won’t be hunted in secret. I’ll be wanted. They won’t be trying to sell me—but to claim me. And if you’re with me, conscription won’t stop with just my name alone.”

  Celeste didn’t look away. Lioren finally lifted his head.

  “I don’t know how quickly word will spread. Days. Weeks. It could already be moving.” I shook my head once. “I’m not saying I’ll walk away from this—from Faylen—from what we came here to do. But once that’s done… staying near me won’t make you safer. It’ll only make you another target.”

  I met their eyes, one after the other. “So understand this before we take another step together.” My voice stayed level, even as the edge crept in. “Traveling with me means you won’t just be dodging slavers anymore.”

  “You’ll be dodging the whole of AurenVale.”

  Silence followed, and for a moment I wondered if she wouldn’t. If she’d choose the smarter path and step away before my shadow swallowed her whole. Part of me hoped she would… and another part of me feared it.

  I kept my face still and waited, telling myself that whatever she chose, it would be the right choice. Even if deep down it wasn’t the one I wanted.

  “I’ve been running from slavers for months, and you never once hesitated to put yourself in danger for me,” Celeste said at last. “Don’t tell me now that I should be afraid just because this time they wear uniforms.”

  Lioren scrubbed a hand down his raggedy beard and let out a breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I got carried away. Started flappin’ my mouth like I’ve had too much ale. Didn’t mean to reduce you to a weapon.”

  He cleared his throat and straightened.

  “That said, I’m not leavin’.” He looked between us. “I’ll travel with both of you’s—until Faylen’s found. Even if she’s not in that hideout.” He lifted his chin. “If that puts a target on my back, so be it.”

  I’d only just met Lioren, but his resolve was hard to miss. Celeste had chosen her friends well.

  I’d suspected she would stay. But I was still glad she did.

  Movement flickered ahead on the trail below, pulling me back to the present.

  A rider emerged from the trees, easing his horse across the path and raising a hand. Dryke reined in, as if he’d been expecting it.

  I sank lower against the stone and watched.

  The rider dismounted and walked to the back of the cart, pulling aside canvas, and checking the crates quickly. He then stepped back and scanned the road.

  He said something I couldn’t hear. Dryke nodded.

  The rider mounted again and turned his horse, taking the lead down the trail without another word.

  I followed.

  Keeping to the slope above the trail, I moved parallel to them, Wind guiding my steps, carrying my weight so lightly that even loose stones barely shifted beneath my boots. The forest thickened as we went, the ground sloping gently downward another shallow fold of land.

  They rode for several minutes before slowing again.

  Another wagon waited in a small clearing ahead, half-hidden beneath the trees. A second man leaned against it, arms folded, watching their approach. He didn’t move to greet them, only straightened slightly as they came to a halt.

  Dryke climbed down first.

  He began moving the crates himself, one by one, carrying them from his cart to the other wagon. The two men watched in silence, speaking only occasionally.

  The quicklime bundle went last.

  Dryke tied down the load, wiped his hands on his trousers, and exchanged few final words with them. Then he climbed back onto his own bench, turned his horse, and started back the way he’d come without looking behind him.

  The other two waited until he disappeared between the trees.

  Then the driver climbed onto the wagon, the rider turning his horse to lead once more. They moved off at a steady pace, deeper into the forest.

  I let them gain distance before moving again.

  Dryke no longer being the trail I needed, I followed the other cart instead.

  The trail narrowed as they went, the trees crowding closer, branches knitting overhead until the light dimmed to a greenish dusk even though the sun had not yet fully set. The wagon wheels rolled over roots and stone more often now, the sound dulled by the forest floor.

  I kept to higher ground when I could, letting Wind carry me from rise to rise. Time passed in the quiet rhythm of progress. Long enough that the air cooled and the shadows deepened and the forest began to feel different. Older. Less traveled.

  The ground began to slope downward again, more gradually this time, and the trees thinned just enough for me to see farther ahead. At first there was nothing, just the forest continuing as it always had.

  Then I saw it.

  A tower in the distance.