Page 4 of Never Ever After

“I don’t think you consult fortune tellers often.” Whenever I encounter suspicion, it’s safer to deflect the attention from myself.

“You’re right.”

“Why are you here?”

He studies me in silence. “I keep my eyes open, vital in any search,” he says at last. “You look like you do the same—that you have something interesting to say beyond your ‘fortunes.’”

The back of my neck prickles. Did he see Mistress Henglan stealing from my customers? If so, he’d have reported us to the soldiers. “What are you searching for?” I ask.

“Information. That I’ll apparently find after wading through a bog and scaling a mountain.” He folds his arms across his chest. “What if you’re wrong?”

“That is the price of boredom.” A rash answer. Something about him makes me want to tilt toward the edge rather than skitter away.

He smiles, a real one this time. I catch myself staring, then look away—just as Mistress Henglan returns, her steps brisk with anger. She’s lost at dice, gambled away a chunk of our earnings. At the sight of my customer, her face lights up. As she approaches quietly, bending to divest his purse, he swings around like he senses her.

She recovers quickly, clasping her hands. “Would you like a cup of tea, Honored Sir?”

Before he can reply, I hear raised voices, followed by the clink of metal. The vendors around me stiffen; any sign of unrest is bad for business. Soldiers turn the corner, their iron armor glinting as brightly as their weapons. Several people are rushing away, pushing through the crowd—my heart sinking. Mandatory recruitment for the mines is rare, but it happens when there is a shortage of workers, the guards rounding up all the able-bodied youths they can find, ignoring their protests and cries. The late king was ruthless in his ambitions. Now that he is dead, our hopes for change lie with his heir.

A woman accompanies the soldiers, my first customer of the day. She stalks toward me, pointing a finger my way. “That’s the thief ! She stole my necklace.”

Dread pools in my gut. At once, Mistress Henglan slips into the crowd, her eyes squeezed in warning to hold my tongue. I hesitate—and then, she’s gone. The sentence for thievery is the same one my uncle suffered: the mines.

The arrogant young man is watching me, a curled finger against his lip. “Thief ?” he repeats softly. “I’ve underestimated you.”

I ignore him, rising as the guards circle me. “I didn’t steal from you,” I tell the woman, though it’s not quite true.

“Do you have the necklace?” a soldier demands.

I shake my head. “No, I swear it. Search me if you want.”

“Come with us,” the soldier orders harshly. “We’ll bring you to the magistrate.”

I nod, inwardly braced for flight. The magistrate is a corrupt official known for his lechery. Six silver pieces won’t be enough to grease his palm. A memory flashes of my uncle being dragged away by the soldiers, his proud head bowed. Months later, his gaunt body returned to us in a shroud.

I won’t let them take me.

I kick the wooden crate at the soldiers, flinging my stool next. As a soldier lunges at me, spear outstretched, the young man stands abruptly and backs away, tripping the soldier in his haste. Is he a coward, or just trying to help? I don’t think anymore, sprinting away. The crowd parts as I push my way through, then closes to conceal my way. Most don’t like seeing another caught; we know how hard life gets.

I rush down a narrow path, cursing when it ends at a wall, a scrawny tree towering beside it. The soldiers’ voices grow louder; there’s no time to turn back. My heart pounds as I clamber up the frail branches, which dip precariously as I reach to grab the edge of the wall. My hair swings across my face, the piece of cloth used to cover it fallen away. I tuck my feet into a narrow crack in the stone, heaving myself over, then make my way down. I’m good at climbing, I’ve played among the trees since my childhood. And I’m even better at disappearing from trouble, a skill honed with Mistress Henglan as my guardian.

Shouts ring out, footsteps heading in my direction. I rush away, but someone seizes my wrist, yanking me through a doorway. It’s dark inside, the air thick with dust. My free hand closes around my knife, slashing it at my attacker—a man, a head taller than me. As he swings aside, I nick the side of his neck just below his ear.

I dart back, but his fingers lock harder around my wrist. I raise my blade again, but he catches my other hand with startling strength.

“Cut me again and I’ll cut you back.” His voice is almost guttural as he twists my knife loose. It falls to the ground with a soft clatter.

“Let me go or I’ll do worse,” I seethe, even as fear pierces me—of him, of the soldiers hunting me.

I thrash wildly, slamming my foot against his thigh. Uncle taught me how to defend myself, among other things my aunt preferred I didn’t learn. As I wrench one hand free, I bury my fist into his gut. He grunts, folding forward, his short hair covering his face. I stare, frozen with shock. It’s the young man from earlier.

“What are you doing?” I bend to snatch up my knife, pointing it at him.

“I don’t mean you any harm.”

“So says every villain.”

He touches the cut on his neck, his fingers stained with blood. “Maybe I should have let the soldiers arrest you.”