“Show your face, Airev,” another shouted.

Airev. It was a Mhenbic word, though Bri didn’t know what it meant. She barely spoke the witches’ native tongue, and that word eluded her.

“Footprints this way,” another voice shouted far in the distance. “Let’s go.”

The fae took off through the markets. Bri waited until her straining ears couldn’t hear them anymore and she finally let out a sigh.

“What a bunch of idiots,” the thief muttered, brushing their cloak against Bri to step out into the open air again. Airev sat, leaning against the upturned table.

“They seemed like they could hold their own in a fight,” Bri said, leaning around the giant beam holding up the market roof. “But clearly not the smartest bunch.”

“Maybe they think footprints only last for an hour,” the thief mused. Bri chuckled, stooping to sit on the dusty, cold earth. “Give them five minutes to get a bit further, and then you can head on your way.”

“Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Not particularly.”

Bri huffed. “Why do they call you Airev?”

Airev turned their axe over in their hand. It was a simple weapon—the short handle barely long enough to grip with a curving long blade that hooked at the end. It wasn’t as bejeweled as Bri’s daggers, but it looked like it could inflict some serious damage.

“Some people profit from the fear of others,” Airev said, tossing the coin purse in their hands. “I steal it and give back to those brave enough to stand up to those beasts.”

Bri cocked her head, assessing them. “A worthy pastime, I suppose.”

“And what are you doing out here?”

“I’ve come to Swifthill to investigate the murder of the Queen.”

“I know why you’re in Swifthill, Briata Catullus. Why are you in back taverns of Southside?”

Bri scowled, realizing she’d let her glamour slip. The alcohol mixed with the adrenaline of the chase made her forget she was meant to appear as a human.

A thin braid spilled from the thief’s hood, its ends adorned with golden rings. The thief swept the braid back into the recesses of their hood, but it was too late.

“I should have known from your sour tone,” Bri huffed, “and that scent. The same one clinging to the halls.”

The thief went still. “What?”

“You smell like jasmine and rose oil and wear gold in your hair. You speak like royalty,” Bri said, reaching a hand out and tugging back the thief’s hood. “But that’s because you are, aren’t you, Princess?”

Chapter Six

Bri couldn’t think of a single goddess more beautiful than Abalina Thorne. Kohl lined the Princess’s storming dark eyes, her intense gaze framed by metallic paint over her eyelids and high cheekbones. A golden stud pierced her nose and golden hoops circled her ears to the very tips. From their brief encounters in other kingdoms, Bri knew Abalina had the confidence of a Queen even as a child, but now, she looked it. Golden coils adorned her thin braids and her neck dripped in precious gems and bronzed jewelry.