The heads on stakes, the smell of rotting corpses hanging from crosses in the streets, the constant squawking of birds as they fight over who gets to peck out the eyes. These are all things I didn't miss about being in Lona. When Renit and I left months ago, I never thought I'd see this place again and the faces of the residents—covered in scars or fresh wounds from battles they didn't ask for.

This time around, Renit doesn't have to tell me to keep my eyes down. Citlali is in our presence, the only two witches of ground coming together as one in the kingdom—in one city—but I don't feel completely protected. I shouldn't, considering we walked into Lona on the day of the biggest market of the year.

The Summer Sales is taking place this week. And today is the first day. It was something Citlali failed to mention until the last minute, after we managed to get through the mountain passes with only a single interaction from a terrified driver leading a wagon back in the other direction. He hadn't wanted to stay in the mountains during the night, by himself, so he bolted. I don't blame him.

The depths of Lona hold more than what the city is readily available to show. The deepest, darkest, and evilest members crawl out of their dark holes to take part in the Summer Sales, whether they have to kill someone to get there. They may, just for the pleasantry of it, and to warn others not to step close.

A heavy hood does not do a decent enough job to cover my facial features. The setting sun beats down onto my cheeks, heating them insufferably, but I keep my eyes down and focus on the faint blood splatter staining the surface we walk on. Celestine was here—she saw all of this. How had she not stated her absolute horror with such a city? I definitely would've, I did, and she listened repulsively.

Renit leads the charge for the two of us. He cuts through the busy streets with ease and, to make himself appear normal, glances at a few wares before continuing on. I can barely lift my eyes without fear of meeting a challenger's, yet he's shopping. To put on a decent show, I remind myself. Lona will not allow him to come through here without paying his dues. The city doesn't survive on visitors.

"We need to find an inn," I mutter to Citlali, leaning close so she can hear me.

She peeks out at me from the corner of her hood, her olive eyes widening in response. Even she isn't welcome here after residing within these streets for so many years. The city, now that she's left it, will never seem like home again. It can't, not after she's witnessed the destruction of what the rebellion brings.

"I know the perfect place. And the owner knows me, I used to steal for him," she whispers back. I nearly have to strain to hear her.

Anyone in the market might hear her and assume she stole from them, whether now or back then, it doesn't matter in a fight. Citlali would face the crude results of her decision and have no choice to fight the market goer that challenges her to a bloody, to the death, battle in the middle of the street. Whether they take out the rest of the city with them, it doesn't matter.

"Of course you did." My words hiss through my teeth. "Is there anything else I should know about your association with these people? When I walk next to you, I feel like there's a target on my back."

Citlali flashes me a white grin. "Technically, there is. One way or the other, most of these people know me. Not from anything good, they've learned that I didn't halt my attempts for anyone—my power answered any troubles for me. Maintain the same standard and everyone will leave you alone."

I dare to look up and find no one is looking at me. Instead, I'm shadowed enough behind Renit's large figure that no one approaching could spot me in the first place. That's either a good thing for me or a bad thing for Renit. Either way, whether me or him, I fight to get us out. No more deaths. I don't want to lose anyone else.

The market is clustered with hooded folks, dark clothes, and even darker salesmen. They watch their wares closely in fear of thieves like Citlali and don't hesitate to sharpen their weapons directly in front of those wishing to purchase something.

We pass by a wooden stand selling potions and poisonous concoctions to poison the wife of your lover, paralyze a man and turn his privates green, and most importantly—burn the tongue of a prostitute that wronged you. I nearly roll my eyes if it's not for the old, haggard woman staring at me through lowered brows as we pass.

"Tell me," I whisper, "Do you have any plans on seeing Rex Fletcher tonight?"

Citlali offers me a look of bewilderment. She nearly pops out of her cloak to ensure I'm speaking the words she's hearing. "We share no relationship other than training. Trust me, I have no interest in...testosterone fuming men."

At that, Renit turns around to arch a brow. I expect him to snap at her, only to find the corner of his mouth quirking up in a gentle smile. That expression makes me weak in the knees every time I see it.

"So what are your interests?" I ask once we're past a knife-throwing stand. One wrong move and one of us will not leave Lona without a fresh wound.

"My interests include...the softer side of things."

"Like Tesha?" I'm asking the question before I can stop myself. The words spill from my tongue and I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment.

Citlali's cheeks heat but the ghost of a smile grazes her plump cheeks. "Yes, like Tesha." That soft love is quickly gone as she points a strong finger directly in my face. "Don't you dare say a word or I will...I'll throw you off the cliff sides once we get back to Arego."

"Trust me, she's jumped off them before," Renit adds from up ahead. Before I can frown at him, he has turned ahead and is moving out of the way of another hooded figure on the lookout for prey. He gives the two of us a second glance and I find I'm not met by a man with the ability to see. The cane he holds and the pure white of his eyes is answer enough.

"I won't say a word," I promise. I've already revealed too much, the last thing I need is Tesha gutting me for telling Citlali about our conversation that night on the rooftops. Although she listened to me, she doesn't want that care expressed. "Tesha is...nice."

Citlali laughs under her breath as not to disturb the man displaying leather jerkins made of cowhide. His sales earn a double take from Renit, but we don't have enough money to purchase anything. I wonder if he has to remind himself that he's no longer underneath the castle riches. "Tesha is more than nice," the witch of ground defends. "She's loyal and trustworthy. Those happen to be two traits I'm looking for."

"If you talk to her about your interests, you might find she feels the same way."

She nearly stops in her tracks at the sound of that. Gripping onto my arm, her eyes wide, Citlali can't find the right words until finally: "Why do you say that? Did she say something to you?"

Maintain calm, I tell myself. Don't let the truth slip out, you fool.

Schooling my features into neutrality, I shake my head. I make myself appear interested in a selection of jewelry we pass; the charms being the shape of sharp crystals. The seller, a woman with a scar down half her face, stares at me the entire time but also manages to keep an eye on a hunched man standing at the front of her selection and picking through.

From where she sits, she doesn't spot the golden chain hanging from the man's coat pocket, where he's already stolen one necklace and is picking through to another. I have no doubt there's at least three of them up the sleeve of his thick coat. I'd hate to be around when that brawl, and his beheading, takes place.

"She didn't say anything," I reassure. Citlali's huff of a breath is all too dramatic. "I mean, she didn't say anything, but the longing looks she gives you are enough of an answer."

A pause of silence. "You're lying."

"I'm not lying! She—"

Renit stops in his tracks and I bump into him from behind. Like hitting a solid brick wall, I stumble back, only to have Citlali catch me before I trip over a dog running behind my legs. "We need to find that inn," the banished prince urges.

I look to where he's staring, towards a huddled group of men standing in the shadow of a building. The market is thick towards this side of Lona; the selections are fuller and the crowds are busier—making it nearly impossible for these men to be spotted amongst the chaos. But Renit, through his three hundred years of tracking, killing, and completing his father's sickly deeds, holds the necessary skills to spot anyone suspicious throughout a crowd.

Just as I catch sight of them, I spot one man whispering to the other and then jerking his chin towards a young merchant with fidgeting hands and an array of treasures lined out onto the rug he sits on. The thought that goes through my mind holds nothing promising: He's going to die today.

The warmth of Renit's palm presses against my back and urges me forward before it slides up to pull the hood of my cloak over my head. They're remaining in the shadows; we have no choice but to do the same. If we're caught looking in the direction of those men, they'll consider us targets, too.

Citlali, a witch with more experience than we do in the field of targeting, keeps her head low as she speaks. "I've seen those men before. They target the weaklings and kill them for being such. They want to strengthen Lona by killing off those that don't belong. Not only that, they'll choose anyone that looks in their direction," she explains. "I would suggest we cut through and travel down a different street. I can find the inn through shortcuts."

Our appearance of suspicion doesn't last long as Renit slings an arm over my shoulder, draping lazily, and tugs me into his side. It's not for protection or to keep me from wandering too far, it's to reduce the chances of being singled by a killer scoping out the market for prey. I'm nothing in comparison to Renit's mass, making me an easy target, so the banished prince does what he has to.

I feel eyes on us as we pass, following Citlali through the market, cutting through two stands to disappear one street over. It's not until we're in the clear, on the other street, that I dare a glance back to find not one, but two of the huddled men watching us go. My blood chills, my muscles tighten, but for the sake of us making it out of here alive, shouting echoes from the market and their attention is diverted towards it.

"This way," Citlali urges.

This street, filled with a tavern, a brothel, and an array of stores or unmarked buildings, is much quieter. The stone borders in on us and creates a shield from the bustling market. Screams of death crack through the foundation of Lona, but we're too far to face the wrath of whoever is dying. Although I want to help, I want to answer their pleading, I can't.

By helping, I make myself a target to more than the men hiding in shadow. The entirety of Lona will come after me for helping someone that shouldn't receive such luxuries.

"We must be careful," Renit informs once he dares a third glance back to ensure we're not being followed. "If word gets around that someone recognized me..."

"No one will recognize you," I say. "I think you've killed everyone that might."

He stares at me sidelong, no amusement on his face in response to my joke. It doesn't take long for him to turn his attention elsewhere for Citlali is cutting left and climbing over heaps of trash through an alleyway. An old barmaid watches us disappear through, following her flowing white hair, but continues sweeping for the sake of her life.

Until this point, I've forgotten how hungry I am. The food from the taverns, covered in grease and cooked over flame...my mouth waters and in response to the smells, my stomach rumbles. We didn't have enough food for the entire journey to Lona; we ran out last night and none of us have eaten since then. I can tell by Renit's longing stares toward smoke billowing from a chimney that he's longing for something to eat, too. Even fish, the only food we've had access to over the past few weeks, would be a delicacy at this point.

Wherever this inn is, I hope there's a kitchen and a broad selection of food to choose from. I allow that thought, the dream of steaming breads and boiled vegetables smothered in a cream sauce, to carry me all the way through Lona's quiet and desolate streets. A wooden sign creaks in the breeze flowing from the market, likely caused by a witch of wind in holding down the merchant as they tie the proper restraints to string him against a cross.

Citlali stops in front of a two-story stone building with a wooden sign of its own. Except...the sign holds a fork, and a knife crossed together, not the symbol of an inn.

"This isn't an inn," Renit says, furrowing his brows at the sign.

"No, but this is better than an inn." Citlali claps her hands together. "It's a restaurant, tavern, and although the price for a room is hefty, there's a tub and running water. We stink, we're hungry, and we need a decent place to sleep—I doubt either of you want your heads cut off tonight while you're sleeping. This is the best place for that."

Renit and I exchange a glance. We have money left over; we planned to use it to purchase a couple horses, but...the offer is tempting. And I can't remember the last time I took a proper bath with soap and a full tub. The sweet aroma of stew, porridge, and baked bread soothes my worries through the window and I nod in response to Citlali's question. "We'll stay here," I say.

"Great. I'll set you two up with a room."

She moves towards the door but Renit stops her. "Wait, you're not staying here?" He asks.

Citlali huffs a laugh as if that's the most foolish thing she's ever heard. "I live in this city, I have a place of my own. Just because I'm working for Alaric now doesn't mean I sold my entire life to do it. Besides, it's much safer than this place."

"Then why are we staying here?" Renit blurts the question before I can.

The witch of ground waves us off with an olive-toned hand. "It'll be fine. Besides my residence, this is the second safest place in the entire city. Trust me, the security is tight."

The dramatic roll of Renit's eyes proves he doesn't trust her. And I don't blame him. Lona is dangerous to reside in, and if Citlali has somewhere safer that gets us all out of here alive...

Suspecting our second-thoughts about staying here, Citlali rushes through the door and shuts it as I reach for her. A second later, the lock clicks, and that's our order to wait outside until she manages to secure a room for the two of us. Whether that's her way of telling us the sexual tension is too tight for her to be around anymore or she merely wants some alone time with someone of her liking—I'm not willing to ask that question.

Renit props his forearm against the side of the stone building, over his head. He puffs out his cheeks and says, "Well, at least there's a tub."