Page 139 of On Wings of Blood

The stairs bottomed out and I walked along a crooked tunnel.

We were beneath the sea.

The restrictiveness of the small stifling space nagged at me, but I pressed on.

After what felt like hours, I finally reached another set of steps. Fortunately, these ones led upwards.

I mounted them gratefully, my legs burning from the effort as I ascended. The stale air of the tunnel gave way to something fresher.

At the top of the steps, I stood on a landing. A wooden ladder led to a hatch over my head, like one that might be found in a cellar.

I climbed the ladder and pressed my ear against the wood of the hatch, straining to hear. The faint murmur of voices drifted down and the sound of music, light and lively.

I pressed the hatch open and was greeted with a wave of rich scents. Ale and herbs. Garlic and rosemary.

It was a storeroom. Kegs of ale and crates of bottles of liquor were stacked in corners, while bundles of herbs hung from the rafters. Root vegetables were piled in sacks and stacked in wooden crates on high shelves.

The voices and laughter grew louder as I slipped into the room and closed the hatch softly behind me.

Slowly, I opened the door leading out of the storeroom just a crack and peeked out.

I blinked as a warm light spilled inwards.

A tavern. Much larger than I’d expected. Bustling and bright. Cozy in its disorderliness.

I caught the scent of spilled ale, roasting chicken, and freshly baked bread mixed with the faintest hint of pipe smoke. The sound of laughter and conversation floated toward me. Someone was playing a harp over in the corner. A lighthearted song that made my feet twitch.

My eyes roamed over the room. Besides a bar lined with stools, the room was filled with round tables and chairs, most of them full of patrons. The walls were lined with bookshelves, every inch crammed full of books. Some patrons stood by the shelves, holding volumes in their hands or searching the shelves.

I watched as a man wearing a pointed red hat went up to the bar and requested a room. The place doubled as an inn then, as well as a bookstore. Tripled?

I scanned the crowd of people but there was no sign of Blake, though I did see a few people who looked like they might be highbloods. He could have slipped into any of the adjoining rooms or disappeared up the flight of stairs leading to the guest rooms.

I gnawed on my lip. Maybe I should have felt frustrated. But instead I felt surprisingly free. I was here now. Why not explore?

Presumably this was Veilmar. I had never even seen the city. We had skirted around its edges on that first day Blake had found me.

There was just one problem. My hair.

I quickly shut the storage room door, then pulled my hair into a tight knot and wound a strip of black ribbon around it, making sure no strands of telltale red were left dangling over my face. When that was done, I pulled up the hood of my cloak.

I waited until no one was around, then slipped out of the storeroom, pulling the door shut behind me.

The wooden floor beneath my feet creaked softly but the sound was lost in the buzz of noise from the tavern.

I moved across the room, then paused. A group of students, all highbloods, sat around a table, laughing and jesting among themselves. It was past midnight on a school night. Perhaps they were Third or Fourth Years who had been granted special privileges from Headmaster Kim.

Or perhaps they’d just snuck out, like I had.

I grinned to myself as I headed for the door. I was eager to see the city. Eager to see the real Sangratha. A place that wasn’t full of highbloods.

I should have known nothing would be as I’d hoped.

As I stepped out of the inn, the first thing that caught my eye were the children.

They were huddled against the walls of the buildings across the street. They were dirty and their clothes were tattered and threadbare.

My stomach twisted as I saw the signs they held.

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