Page 119 of To Kill a King
A bitter taste burned the back of her throat. Apparently public executions had become so commonplace they needed a permanent structure.
The shoppers seemed almost fervent with the intensity of which they went about their shopping before slinking out of the square, always trying to avoid looking at the intrusive dais. A high percentage of stalls sat vacant. Even the few remaining vendors’ calls to entice patrons rang hollow. She’d never imagined a bazaar so subdued and empty.
Guards in black and red uniforms posted at each of the four entrances scrutinized everyone who came and went.
Aliya hunched her shoulders and pulled her hood over her face, mimicking the body language of the other customers. Her stomach growled as the aroma of spiced meat tickled her nose. Hopefully the cook’s prices weren’t too unreasonable.
She circled around, staying as far away from the execution platform as possible. The cantina was about halfway across the square. Smoke billowed from underneath the awning.
Several benches with tables spread in front of the stall, as though the owner normally enjoyed a thriving business. Today, however, the chairs sat abandoned.
Aliya waited while the one customer ahead of her paid for their wrapped food and scurried off. She stepped up to the counter, purse in hand. “How much for lunch?”
The cook studied her, eyeing her outfit.
Dang it. Did everyone alter their charges based on their patrons’ appearances? She needed to purchase a tunic in the poorer district before she went to find lodging. Hopefully, at an inn Malkov wouldn’t recognize. With her luck, he’d creep into her dreams and discover exactly where she was. Her room would be filled with soldiers when she awoke.
“A silver.”
Seriously? Aliya sighed and turned away, shoulders slumped.
“Wait. Girl.”
She glanced back at him.
He shook his head and waved her back. “I’m sorry. Business has been rather slow as of late, courtesy of the war. What have you got?”
She pulled out three coppers.
The man exhaled and motioned with his head for her to come back. “I think I can whip something up.”
She set the coins on the counter with a sigh. “Thank you.”
The cook wrapped up a chunk of meat and some bread, handing her the package.
Before he could change his mind, she grabbed the food. Her mouth watered. “Thanks. Is it okay if I sit and eat here?”
The man shrugged. “Sure. The tables are clean.”
She picked the one closest to the stall. No need to draw attention by being out in the open. As she ate the meal—it tasted just as good as it smelled—she stared at the castle off in the distance. She would have to figure out a way to sneak inside and down to the dungeons without getting caught, and free any prisoners she found along the way.
Taking a deep breath, she deflated as she studied the ring on her finger.
Sure. No difficult task for just one person. Not at all. Then the next day, as icing on the cake, she’d have to find Malkov, and fulfill her Irrevocable Vow to kill him.
Life would be easier if she could go back to her father’s estate up north and pretend none of this ever happened. She sighed. If she did that, and somehow survived failing to execute the vow, her father would just hand her over to the king again. She’d be right back where she started. Assuming her father was even still alive.
The city had changed so much, it was possible things in the castle were different, too. Maybe all the servants, the nobles, would be gone? And it would just be her and Malkov.
And however many magic users he’d fed on in the last few weeks to boost his power.
She buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t do this. If she had a month to plan, and coin enough to survive on, it might be feasible.
The solstice was in two days. Killing the king on the first day of summer would make a solid statement.
And he wouldn’t expect her to go on the offensive.
“Girl,” the cantina owner said, “are you okay?”