the wooden crate up over the low railing, but consoled myself that there were other boxes; enough for a week or two of renewals, surely, and by that time the citadel would be forced to send replacements.
I watched until the guards had passed, then I took a deep breath and let go. The box plummeted from the tower, whistling through the air before smashing on the cobblestones far below.
My heart leapt at the sound of splintering wood and breaking glass. I raced downstairs, opening a side window to avoid the treacherous journey I’d risked the first time, and continued down the winding stairs of Crollust’s walls until I reached the bottom.
I heard shouts and ducked into the shadows as guards ran past me. Two of them discovered the box first, kicking over the splintered remains. Elixir shone from the broken glass, and I had to stop myself from rushing out into the open. I would have licked it up from the stones if I could, glass shards and all. But then I spotted something nearby the guards had missed; a few vials had been thrown on impact and rolled away from the broken crate. More guards were approaching, but so were villagers, drawn by the commotion, and a tall, stern looking curate, in navy robes and fierce gold eyebrows. I didn’t have much time, but I could try and blend in with the crowd.
I darted from my hiding place, spinning around bystanders and a tall statue, keeping my eyes fixed on the elixir until I was close enough to scoop it out of the gutter with one hand.
The other intact vial was less easy; resting almost directly beneath someone’s boot. In a moment, it would get stepped on by a careless guard. I stepped briskly from cover, pretending to tie my shoelace, before snatching the vial and tucking it into my boot. I smiled at my victory, until a hand grabbed my wrist and flung me up against a wall with inhuman strength.
A pair of penetrating violet eyes peered at me in the darkness, turning my blood to ice.
Augustine pulled me quickly away into a dark alley.
“Care to explain yourself?” he asked, a touch of humor in his voice.
I reached for the dagger under my cloak but he knocked it away, stabbing it into the wall just behind my ear. I tried to reach for my boot but he pinned both my hands with one of his, holding me immobile as he searched my pockets, then ran his cold hand slowly down my leg before slipping it into my boot.
“This doesn’t belong to you,” he said, withdrawing the stolen vial of elixir.
“So what,” I spat. “You’re going to arrest me?”
He studied me for a long moment, leaning in closer to sniff my neck.
“Perhaps we could make some kind of deal, if you want these badly enough.”
“I’d rather starve.”
“The thirst causes violence, mania. King Richard is wise to limit it; not only to keep his cattle content, but also powerless. If you’re suffering from the thirst enough to try something so reckless, that means you’ve had more than a small taste of it, yes? Someone has been feeding you more than you’re allowed. Chosen?”
“None of your business,” I said. My heart pounded an erratic rhythm against my ribcage, but at least he didn’t seem to know who I really was.
“Too much of it is dangerous for humans,” Augustine continued. “I wouldn’t be doing you any favors...”
“It’s not for me,” I said.
His eyes widened at this, studying me with cool detachment.
“For some reason, thief, I believe you.”
“So what now, you’re going to turn me in? I’ll be executed you know.”
“I don’t bow to your king,” he smirked. Now it was my turn to be surprised. He let go of my wrists, but I made no move to run. I knew he could catch me in an instant.
My chest heaved against the confines of my lung-squeezing dress. I rubbed my arms, feeling cold and exposed.
What did he mean, he didn’t bow to Richard? I knew there were elite that didn’t live in the citadel, and I’d even heard that some of the elite might conspire to dethrone him, but were there elite out there, who didn’t even recognize his rule? Other kingdoms? I had a feeling he meant something else. If not Richard, who did he bow to?
He grabbed my hand quickly, turning it over and studying the red markings, tracing his long fingers of the jagged patterns.