Page 3 of Veiled Fate
“Now, where?” I asked as I did my best to mentally count down the five minutes we’d ordered the captain to wait.
“This way,” he said, standing up and walking calmly toward the base of the pier and wharf along the shoreline. “We’ll try to lose them in the market.”
I rose and followed him, trying to be as casual about it as possible.I have nothing to hide. I have nothing to hide. I’m just a regular person. The nearest guards were on the far side of the market. They were making their way toward us but pausing at each pier to search the boats tied up there.
“Look,” I said without pointing, jerking my head to the right. “The walls.”
Kiel grunted as he saw what I did. “He’s closed the city down. Nobody in or out until he’s found us.”
“What about my parents?” I asked softly, under my breath. “They’re in no condition to escape.”
“He won’t find them,” Kiel promised. “The safe house Andi took them to is well hidden and stocked. They won’t have to leave for some time, and we still have enough contacts in Arcadia that they can be resupplied without issue. Trust me.”
“I do,” I told him, squeezing his forearm as much for my well-being as anything to do with him.
We reached the wharf in lock-step. I ignored a passing fisherman’s stare at my wet clothing as we stepped down from the wooden planks onto the cobblestone. Although we were no longer dripping water, it was clear to anyone with a working set of eyes that we had just been swimming in our clothing.
“What are we going to do about our clothing?” I asked, keeping an eye out for any new guards.
“We’ll try to—”
Kiel was cut off by a shout in the direction of our original escape. Our heads whipped around to see the guards jumping off our ship under barked commands from what was clearly an officer.
“I think our five minutes just ran out,” Kiel said instead, grabbing my hand as we ran for the crowded marketplace, intent on getting lost in the crowd.
Although no permanent buildings were in the market, the maze of stalls and tents within was just as good for escaping pursuit. We ducked under the beige canvas of the nearest stall, a rug seller, becoming almost immediately invisible to anyone passing as we moved through rows of hanging rugs that blocked anyone from seeing us.
“What is that smell?” a voice asked from nearby.
Unfortunately, the stench of Lake Arcadia seemed likely to give us away.
“We need new clothes,” I whispered to Kiel as we made our way to the far side of the stall, peeking through two carpets.
On the other side was a busy throughway. Throngs of people wandered here and there, stopping to look at a fresh catch or a shiny trinket, unbothered by the riots taking place near the palace or the guards’ shouts as they muscled their way through the crowd.
“I know.” He jerked his head. “Over there.”
Across the way, a busy clothing merchant was haggling with a couple with three young children in tow. His attention was fully fixed on the kids, who were trying to convince their parents to buy them new outfits.
“Okay,” I said, taking a breath, getting ready to step out into the open.
“You!” a voice called from my left.
My head whipped around to see the rug merchant standing at the end of our row, hands on his hips.
“You stink. Get out of my shop before you ruin my rugs! Nobody wants to buy smelly rugs. Go! Get out!”
“Shit,” Kiel muttered, diving between two rugs and into the slow-moving mass of Arcadian citizens.
I followed him, trying to look as uncaring as possible, despite the sudden attention on us. Glancing back, I saw the rug seller poking his head out from the edge of his stall, glaring at us. Thankfully, he didn’t keep up his tirade, keeping us from drawing any more attention, particularly from the guardsmen I could see hurrying their way through the crowd.
They hadn’t seen us yet, but they knew who was in the market. I could see several pairs of silver-armored Wulfhere who had stayed behind to patrol the outer edges.
“We’re being hunted like animals,” I growled as we passed the clothing seller, then doubled back through the tent next to his, a pottery merchant. We slid through a gap in the canvas flaps halfway through and into the clothing merchant’s stall.
A young man looked up from where he sat, sewing a pair of pants.
“Hey! What are you doing in here?” he shouted, getting to his feet and snatching a curved sword from a nearby table.
