Page 60 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
Which is why I am now utterly fucked, and wandering aimlessly through central Caerwynath with little more than the clothes on my back.
Thankfully, the streets here are far safer and cleaner than those of Narudi—or any of the other larger cities I’ve visited in Selcarim, for that matter.
Since arriving here, I’ve only seen one other homeless person.
A drunken male.
In fact, he might not even be homeless.
Maybe he was just drunk and decided to pass out in the park’s hedges to have a nap with the hedgehogs—yes, that’s right.
Hedgehogs.
That’s how adorable this place is.
I want to stay here. And now that I’ve run out of money, where else would I go anyway? Back to the Atratusian continent, where being murdered or violated in the street is as common as buying bread?
I think not.
At least this place is safe.
However, if I’m going to stand any chance of getting a jobandkeeping my identity a secret, I need to get new documents. I need a new name.
Where does one even begin to search for such a service?
Where do criminals congregate?
Are there even any criminals in Caerwynath?
I can’t say I’ve seen anyone who seems even remotely suspicious. Everyone looks so...well off.
The sun has sunk beyond the horizon, casting the picturesque town in a twilight haze. I’ve deliberately wandered into Caerwynath’s version of a slum.
And despite all logic, my eyes scan every perch in hopes of finding Horus, by some miracle.
Again, I am met with disappointment.
Again, I want to cry.
But I’ve done enough weeping to last a lifetime.
The flames of an artfully designed dark green lamppost flicker to life just as a folded piece of paper appears before me and flutters down to the cobblestones.
My senses heighten, skin prickling as I lower my eyes to stare down at one of my middle names scrawled across the front of it in elegant Selcarimi text.
What in the sacred fuck?
My heart hammers and my gaze darts around the vicinity.
Has my father found me already?
Has Lucen?
But no one calls me Violette. Not since my mother.
My stomach is in my throat as I bend at the waist to snatch it up.
I hurry to open it, anxiety and fear ratcheting higher and higher with each passing moment.
