Page 2 of The Horde King of Shadow

There was a churning in my belly, reflected in the swirl of red beneath the crystal-clear glass before me. My eyes tracked the wispy sway, wondering what had created it.

“Grimalkin?” I repeated, half-distracted. “That’s a new word from you.”

“Heard it from a human at that tavern off the Twelfth Limb. He told me it meansold shrewin their ancient language.”

“Ah,” I commented, tearing my eyes away from the red mist in the vial to peer at the vendor, an elderly Dakkari male with golden eyes, tending patiently over his wares. I smiled. “And you liked the word and committed it to your beloved vocabulary of insults.”

“Eighteen words and counting. Isn’t it a delight to say?” Sora asked, laughing musically, a beautiful laugh that belied her crass tongue. Even the vendor turned abruptly to observe her. “Grimalkin.”

“It is,” I agreed, tightening my arm around the book pressed to my chest.

Sora finally stepped up the vendor cart to look at what had caught my attention. She whistled, low and soft. To the vendor, she said, “A little morbid, isn’t it? Considering how many it killed?”

He sniffed, then glared. “Don’t like it? Then go.”

“Come on,” I said, pulling on my friend’s arm before she started something. Again. When we were a distance from the vendor stall, I said, “You know it’s fake anyway. Like heactuallyhas the red fog bottled? Where has he kept it hidden away for the last two hundred years?”

“Actually, I need one,” Sora announced before flitting back. Shaking my head, I watched her beam innocently at the vendor, who looked like he wouldn’t sell to her before finally caving when he saw her glittering gold, pulled from her tunic pocket.

Turning, I absorbed the bustling marketplace, eyes darting, a small smile on my lips as I observed the chaos.

I needed a brief reprieve from the quiet of the archives, given the stiffness in my neck and the lethargy in my legs. I needed tofeelthe pulse of excitement of the market as I absorbed the plethora of colors and scents and sounds. The vibrant clothing for the special occasion, the waving flags, the mark of my family’s line decorating them, the musical beat of distant drums,the scent of smoked and spicedwrissanmeat from a nearby vendor cart.

A seller passed me holding a thick vertical pole that was three times his height. Pinned to it were dozens of colorful silks and cloaks, swaying from his wobbly grip.

“Anything catch your interest?” he asked, his gaze already sliding to seek out other customers. “The gold scarf would bring out your…”

His words trailed when he finally looked back at me, his eyes zeroing in on my scar. His brow ticked up, the pole swaying forward in his surprise.

I shook my head hurriedly, letting my hair fall over my cheekbone, and he left—thankfully without comment.

Overhead, I spied the crooked banner hung between two buildings. It heralded the two hundredth anniversary of the red fog’s defeat in the Dead Lands. On another banner, across the market, were the beautiful faces, drawn in perfect likeness with an expert hand, faces copied from the golden statue at the front of the city of therivalla lo’kilan.

The Five.

The five females who’d each played a part in eradicating the scourge of the red fog that would’ve certainly killed us all, wiping out the entirety of the races on our planet. Only because of them had we survived.

A spark of pride—and despair—burst in my chest.

“Look,” Sora ordered, shoving the largest vial the vendor had had stocked toward my face. She shook it, and I watched the red smoke inside gently sway. “Likelykrekiink dyed red and suspended in a water solution. Quite genius, actually, though he has questionable morals.”

“Youjust purchased those questionable morals,” I pointed out, my gaze lingering on the red fog—ink—continuing to swirl. My lungs felt tight.

“What is it?” she asked, concern touching her tone.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head, tearing my eyes away from the vial to hers. I offered her a small smile before it died. “Just…today of all days, I’ve been wondering what it was like. The fog. I don’t think I’ve ever truly tried to imagine it, have you?”

Trapped in it. Suffocated by it. The sinking realization that every breath wound its way down one’s throat like a parasite—feeding, draining.

I nearly shuddered.

“Maybe you should ask them,” Sora pointed out, nodding her head at the banner. My gaze snapped back to the Five, to their beautiful faces. “Maybe like Vienne, the great white-haired sorceress, you can ask her in your dreams,” she teased. “You more than anyone.”

I heard the slight mockery in her tone, and it made my shoulders tighten. “You don’t believe she had visions in her dreams?”

Sora scoffed. “The evidence is subjective at best. There is no denying she possessed a great power. But I think it was the lore surrounding her husband that sparkedthoserumors.”

I knew what was true. Sora didn’t.

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