Prince Nera Mossveil's Arc

Chapter 10 of 23

Nera pocketed the sealed letter and buttoned the fawn against his chest under his coat. The buyer would be found by his guards inside the hour. When that happened, the market gates would drop and every road out would close. Atletha stood at his elbow, waiting for the word. He gave it. "South wall. Now." They moved through the wine shop's back lane at a walk, not a run. A run drew eyes. Atletha kept her wings folded flat against her back to hide his colors. The fawn shifted once and went still against his ribs. At the corner, Nera stopped. Two watchmen stood at the mouth of the lane, half-turned, talking. He counted their belts. Long knives. No horns yet. He pulled Atletha into a doorway and thought. The south wall gate would be the first sealed once the buyer was found. The drain under the east wall carried market runoff to the creek. He had marked it in his head three days ago and moved on. Now he needed it. They cut east through a butcher's yard and a narrow between two storehouses. The drain sat behind a slat fence, wide enough for a short fairy on his belly. Atletha went first with the letter. Nera followed with the fawn. The stone scraped his shoulders. Water ran cold at his wrists. Behind them, back at the market center, a horn finally sounded. Then a second. Then the low grind of the gate chains. He came out onto the bank of an iced creek that ran pale between broken stone. The frost pair stood at the far edge already, waiting. The male head looked at the horn sound and then at Nera. "Faster," he said. "They will sweep the banks," she said. Beside them sat a hound of ice and feathered wing, ears forward, watching the market wall. In her free hand the female twin turned one of their paired snowflake knives, thumb on the flat of the blade. "You waited," Nera said. "We owed you a crossing," the male said. "You climbed the pipe when we said thirty seconds," the female said. The hound stepped down onto the ice and the ice held. The twins followed. Nera and Atletha crossed after them, boots sliding on the pale surface, the fawn quiet under his coat. Halfway over, three small ice hares broke from a snowdrift on the far bank and bolted north. The twins did not look at them. Nera did. They were living. The winter here made living things. On the far side, the market horns were still calling behind the wall. The gates had shut on an empty prince. Nera had the letter, the seal, and the fawn, and a frozen creek between him and any rider who wanted to follow. The bounty was called. The road north was open. The rest of the herd was still waiting to be found.