Page 86 of Marked
“Why me?”
“You know why. An immortal with impeccable aim who has arrows with magical fletching is responsible for these deaths. If you don’t hunt down those responsible, you will become the hunted. You’ve already been marked.”
All the air whooshed out of my lungs and the beer turned sour on my tongue. “Marked?”
Ace had received an empty glass from the grizzly bartender and turned back toward us.
“As the main suspect,” the queen said. “It’s only a matter of time, now, before my husband comes after you.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice. “I can’t protect you forever. I know who and what you are. If I can figure it out, so can others.”
The queen slipped from the booth, startling Ace. He stopped a few feet away from our booth, glass in hand, and watched the queen approach him with apprehension.
“Turns out I don’t need the glass after all.” She patted him on the shoulder before she walked past and left the tavern without looking back.
Ace scowled at the tavern’s door before joining me at the table. He slid into his seat and placed the extra empty glass on the table. “Are you going to share what that was about?”
“Nothing we didn’t already know. I’m the prime suspect for the murders and I don’t have a lot of time before the king’s men come calling.”
“We.”
“What?”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “You’re not in this alone.”
I nodded, but my mind still raged, replaying the queen’s words over and over again. She knew who and what I was?
“I need you to do something for me,” I said, trying to keep my voice even despite the flurry of emotions.
“Okay.” He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I need you to stay here while I do something alone. I’ll meet you at the gate at sunrise and we’ll head back to Perga together.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t like this idea.”
“It’s not an idea, it’s a plan I’m putting in motion.”
“What are you up to?” he asked.
I shook my head, refusing to voice any of the wild thoughts running through my mind. “This is one secret I intend to keep.”
31
The fading glow of moonlight and the first hints of the impending sunrise filtered through the cracked windows, casting eerie shadows on the worn-out floor of the old orphanage. Though silence surrounded me, horrible memories of screams echoing down this hall flooded my mind the second I stepped inside. Decay and dampness clung to the air, a musty reminder of the years that had passed since I called this place home.
Ace had reluctantly agreed to let me slip away. We’d meet around the corner from Wast’s main gate at sunrise. I had an hour for this side quest, and I couldn’t falter, no matter how exhausted I was.
Unease washed over my whole body as I made my way down the creaking halls, my cloak swishing behind me. The doors along the hallway remained shut and locked from the outside, a painful reminder of how I’d spent my time here with my brother—some things really didn’t change. Who cowered behind these doors now as I crept past?
At the end of the hall, the door to the headmaster’s office was slightly ajar, inviting me to confront the demon from my past. Of course he’d be here. The man never left and tonight, I’d finally demand the answers to my past. In truth, I should’ve returned a long time ago. With a trembling hand, I pushed open the door.
Headmaster Marcus sat behind his desk, his aging pale face illuminated by a dim lamp flickering beside him. He looked frailer than I remembered, more pathetic. His strong arms had morphed into gnarled sticks covered in leathery skin. His hair had turned white and had thinned into greasy strings. His blue eyes, once piercing, had paled and dulled with time. His weak, watery gaze met mine and widened with surprise.
I stopped short, a few feet inside the doorway. I hadn’t expected him to be up, nor sitting behind his desk. I’d hoped to catch him unaware.
“Hello, Marcus,” I said. My voice remained cool and calm, a sharp contrast to the shock and raging turmoil inside me. “You’re up early.”
“Artemis,” he said. Though old and withered, his voice still held iron strength. “I’ve always been an early riser. Have you returned to reminisce?”
Suppressing the anger bubbling within me, I clenched my fists. This man was supposed to be a loving, supportive father figure to us orphans, but instead, he had caused me and my brother endless pain and suffering during our time here. He was the reason we’d left, preferring to survive on the streets than languish under this man’s sick interpretation of discipline.