Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, #5) - K.F. Breene Page 0,71

glanced around the clean streets and well-kept buildings. She’d found the nicer part of the city and discovered it was largely occupied by Graygual and rich people. Oftentimes those rich people were also Graygual. They rarely had the snowy or wheat-blond hair of Shanti’s people, but it was clear they hailed from a colder climate where their skin wasn’t used to the blazing heat of the middle-land or south. In contrast, Alena should’ve fitted in just fine. She had darker hair and nearly matched the sun-kissed skin tone. But in this part of the city, she stood out like an intruder. Locals weren’t admitted, it seemed. They were a conquered people, best left to the slums and less reputable parts of the city.

Another shout echoed down the street, but the men weren’t getting any closer. They had to be in an inn or some other gathering place.

Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Alena brought the hastily duplicated map up again in a shaking hand. She should need to go right for a ways, take a left, and then another right. That should get her into the rear gate area, where she hoped to meet up with the other women.

She let her hand fall and surveyed the street in front of her. With the sun nearly set, and time slipping away with each passing second, she was way behind. She should jog the route and get the job done.

She walked slowly to the intersection and peered around the corner. The street was deserted.

Confused, she glanced the other way and found the same thing. It was way too early for a curfew. Wasn’t it?

She bit her lip. Going down this street would paint a big target on her back. A poor local dressed in rags in the rich area? Yeah, right. String her up by her neck right now. They’d think she was here stealing.

She turned back the way she’d come. She’d have to find another route to take. The map she’d been given wasn’t up to date, that was clear, and it was causing her to lose precious time.

She jogged back the way she’d come, hanging a left down an alley. A small amount of litter, most likely blown in from the wind unnoticed, lined the small gutters built into the road for rainwater. Crates lay off to her right. One had fallen off the stack and busted. Beyond that lay a closed door without a sign.

Alena slowed to a stop, feeling her heart sink at the blackness in front of her. Another wall. It wasn’t even a building, just a big brick wall erected to sever the passageway. It had to be on purpose. The Graygual had been thoughtful with this city’s protection. It didn’t bode well for their cause.

Alena had about-faced and started walking out when a hollow thud announced a door being unlocked. She scurried to the side of the stack of crates, and the door swung open a moment later.

Fast and harsh-sounding syllables interrupted the hush of the alleyway. Heavy footsteps scraped against the ground. Between the cracks of the crates came a robust man in a white smock. A cook.

A boot scuffed before a crate squealed against the ground. A gruff voice rang out. The boots, dull and black, came around to the front of the pile.

Alena yanked out her knife. If she killed someone, they’d never know it was her. In a city this big, it could be any street urchin. She’d just have to get out of there before anyone found her.

A hand reached across her line of sight. The fingers prodded a broken piece of wood in the fallen crate. The crate lifted away behind the others.

Heart thumping madly, Alena held her breath, waiting for him to walk away. A shock of adrenaline coursed through her as the man stepped out in front of her.

Shock smacked his face. Her hand jerked of its own accord, the point of her knife rising dangerously close to his chest. She couldn’t commit, though, and she didn’t know why.

His gaze dipped to the knife. A brief flash of fear crossed his features until his eyes darted to her clothes, her shaking arm, and finally her eyes. Something sparked in his gaze, but she couldn’t say what. Finally, he raised his hands slowly. Words rode a soft and calm tone.

She shook her head, her brow furrowing. He said something else that almost sounded familiar. It was probably the speech the traders used. Everyone seemed

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