Page 91 of The Blood Traitor

“It’ll be faster to split up, but safer to stay together,” Jaren answered, frowning at the mass of people. “We don’t want to draw attention to what we’re doing, not in a place like this, but Kiva’s right — we’re probably going to have to ask for directions.”

“Ooooh, l-l-look!” Tipp said, pointing to a stall up ahead and beaming. “An a-apothecary. We should a-ask her. Everyone knows apothecaries h-help people.”

Kiva couldn’t help thinking of Mot from Zalindov, who, while thoughtful and kind to her, had deliberately misdiagnosed his patients so he could test experimental remedies on them, causing multiple deaths.The Midnight Markets were the kind of place he would have thrived at, so Kiva followed Tipp with caution as he skipped toward the woman behind a table covered in vials. Numerous plants and flowers and vines hung along the sides and across the top of her stall, most of which were unknown to Kiva, aside from a few highly poisonous buds that had her eyes rounding. The booth itself had copious stoppered flasks and bottles scattered over every available surface, none of which were labeled, and there was also a preparation area, where the woman was meticulously chopping ingredients and transferring them to a large stirring pot.

All of this Kiva took in quickly, but it wasn’t the woman or her task that held her focus — it was the shelf behind her, stocked high with clear containers full of a familiar golden powder.

Angeldust.

So muchangeldust. More than Kiva had ever seen in one place.

Her insides twisted, and she tore her eyes away.

“Excuse m-me,” Tipp said before Kiva, Caldon, or Jaren could stop him. “We’re l-l-looking for Zofia S-Sage.”

The woman didn’t look up, her hand steady on her dagger as she continued to chop, chop, chop.

Jaren stepped forward and spoke in the guttural Hadrisan language.

“I heard the kid,” the woman replied in the common tongue, with barely a trace of an accent. “What’s in it for me?”

“You would have our gratitude,” Caldon said, offering her a winning smile.

“Gratitude don’t pay the king’s taxes,” she shot back.

Jaren pulled out a small pouch of gold. “No, but this will. For your information — and your silence.”

The woman finally glanced up, holding out her palm. When Jaren handed over the pouch, she weighed it thoughtfully, then opened her mouth to give a stream of directions, none of which Kiva understood, but Jaren and Caldon listened intently before murmuring their thanks.

The apothecary merely went back to her work, ignoring them once more.

They turned to leave, but as they did, Tipp asked, “What’s th-that?” while pointing to a large jar full of what looked suspiciously like blood, inside of which floated a pale —

“Nothing,” Kiva said quickly, grabbing his arm and dragging him away, her stomach roiling. Even Caldon made a quiet retching sound, while Jaren rubbed his eyes as they hurried from the apothecary’s stall, as if hoping to erase the image from his mind.

The four of them continued down the thoroughfare, passing everything from exotic creatures in cages to strange weapons that had the princes lingering with appreciation. There were also entire stalls piled high with more angeldust, poppymilk, and other unidentifiable drugs, causing Kiva’s anxiety to spike every time she saw a hint of the glittery powder. She still hadn’t told anyone — especially Jaren — what she’d gone through at Zalindov, the horrors of her addiction and withdrawal. Just seeing the angeldust glinting innocently under the luminium beacons made her heart race and her palms sweat, with her battling to keep her mind in the now and not fall back into the nightmare she’d barely survived.

“Are you all right?”

The quiet words came not from Caldon or Tipp, but from Jaren.

Kiva stiffened and kept her eyes straight ahead, focusing on a shirtless man dancing with a collar and chain around his neck as she answered, “Of course.”

There was a weighty pause, before Jaren said, “It helps if you don’t look too closely. This is their world, it’s their normal. They don’t see it as we do. And we’ll be out of here as soon as we can.”

He thought she was struggling with the Markets — when really, she was struggling with her memories.

“I’m fine.” Her tone was as detached as his had been forweeks. “Caldon said this is where the worst of humanity resides, but I spent ten years with the worst of humanity. This isn’t just their normal — it’s mine, too. I’m used to it.”

That was a blatant lie, especially when she recalled what she’d seen in that bloodied jar. But the last thing she needed was Jaren feeling obligated to worry about her due to some misplaced sense of duty. Or worse, guilt.

Another weighty silence came from him, before he tried, “Ki —”

“There you are!” Naari’s voice cut him off, with her approaching from a side alleyway they’d just turned down. “We found Zofia. She’s only a short walk from here.”

Kiva sent a silentthank youto the guard for interrupting whatever Jaren had been about to say, then followed quickly after Naari as she led them through the narrow alley and into another large thoroughfare almost identical to the one they’d just left. This side, however, smelled fresher and sloped upward, with a slight breeze and the distant sounds of music indicating that it led straight into the outdoors section of the Midnight Markets, where the revelry took place.

“Where’s Cresta?” Caldon asked as they passed yet more suspicious stalls.

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