Page 2 of King of Storms and Feathers

A golden brow rose. “Here’s what I’m willing to pay. Take it or leave it.” He gave the master three gold filigree feathers the length of my palm. “Hand her over. I’m in a hurry.”

A tiny wound festering in the crease of my elbow itched. I scratched it, and the slaver slapped my hand away. “Do you want to take the clothes she was wearing when I got her?”

“No. Just show them to me,” said Arrow.

The slaver disappeared, then returned carrying a small bundle. He held up a ripped tunic of woven wool and linen pants. If they were mine, I didn’t recognize them.

Arrow stared at the tattered items, his lips compressing in a look of distaste. “These clothes aren’t from the Light Realm. Where did you find her?”

“Port of Tears docks when I passed through a week ago. A merchant found her unconscious in a gutter, then a tavern owner sent him my way.”

“It was your lucky day, then. Did you shave one side of her hair?”

“No. It was like that. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I doubt that,” my new owner muttered.

The slaver gave the blue-haired fae the keys to my wrist shackles, and Arrow stepped onto the platform, crowding me with his large body. An act of intimidation. “Give me your name.”

My name… I shook my pounding head.

What in the realms was my name?

I didn’t know.

A wave of nausea crashed over me, and I swallowed to avoid splattering his boots with bile.

“I don’t know it.” Clearing my throat, I straightened my spine. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

One side of his mouth twitched. “Very well. You’ll change your mind. I guarantee it.”

He was wrong, but I admired his confidence.

“Esen, give her water,” he told the female as he stepped off the platform onto the dusty ground and scanned the crowded outdoor market.

Scowling, the blue girl unhitched a water skin from her belt and lifted it to my lips. I drank greedily, then vomited it back up on the ground between us. She snarled as she led me down the steps.

“Where are we?” I croaked, stumbling.

“Be quiet.” Esen shoved me into motion. “Get a move on.”

The haughty Arrow swept his eyes over me, then strode ahead. Dark-hair ran to catch up with him, leaving Esen to tug me along behind them, the stink of resentment seeping from her pores.

Breathing slowly through my nose, conserving energy, I inspected their clothes. Tight leathers beneath black cloaks, Arrow’s embroidered with gold feathers. Then I checked the positions of their weapons; knives and swords everywhere, many of them easily accessible.

I didn’t know who I was, but I was certain I knew how to handle a blade.

As I stumbled on a stone, memories rushed through my mind—an overgrown forest, a sword flashing in front of me as I gripped the hilt in my fist, and a green-eyed opponent smiling back at me. Warmth, instead of fear, flooded my chest.

Home. It had to be.

We neared the Farron Gilt Market sign that hung over copper-colored gates, and a fight broke out between a gold vendor and a customer at a stall to the left. A crowd gathered to watch, creating a perfect distraction.

I pretended to trip and fall, snatched a knife from Esen’s boot, stabbed her outer thigh, then ran as fast as I could, ducking and weaving through sweat-scented bodies. I passed slave cages and tables packed with scales, vials, fabric, and mouth-watering food piled high on golden trays.

Behind me, the shouts of my new owners echoed, the girl’s sounding vicious and brown-eyes’ voice frantic. I heard no sound from Arrow, but I felt him gaining on me like a wall of wildfire, relentless, I knew he’d never stop.

As I dodged and ran, I felt no pain. Dust flicked up, coating my throat. I slid under a table, my palms burning as they scraped the ground. Then I crawled between stacked barrels, my sights fixed on a sandstone building that looked like a tavern.

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