If bread duty was cursed, Serenyx was convinced the curse had doubled by the time Lytheris dragged her into the bakery.
The air inside was thick with flour, warm with the glow of ovens. Loaves lined the shelves like obedient soldiers, and Mistress Alra, the round-faced baker who ruled the ovens like a general, was scowling at them both.
"You're late."
"Blame her," Lytheris said, still gripping Serenyx's wrist like a leash.
Serenyx attempted her best innocent smile, dusting nonexistent flour from her tunic. "I was communing with nature."
"With trouble, more like," Lytheris muttered.
Mistress Alra snorted, thrusting a basket of rolls at Serenyx. "Then commune with these. Deliver to the eastern stalls before the soldiers sniff you out. They're hunting someone, and the market's already nervous."
Serenyx froze, clutching the basket. Did Mistress Alra know? Or was it just gossip flung like flour dust? Either way, her skin prickled.
"Go on, then," the baker barked. "And for once, keep your head down!"
Lytheris gave her a look that translated to don't you dare breathe wrong. Serenyx's grin twitched wider.
Head down? Impossible.
Basket in hand, she pushed into the market once more, weaving past fishmongers and spice-sellers, her mind racing. Every corner seemed to hold black-and-silver armor. The Shadow Sect weren't supposed to be here, they never came this far north. And yet they were here, their serpent insignia gleaming under the sun, their voices sharp as blades.
She nearly collided with a boy juggling apples for coin tricks. He stumbled, sending fruit rolling. Serenyx crouched to help him, muttering, "Sorry, my fault," when she noticed a parchment half-crumpled on the ground.
The sketch again.
Her face again.
This time clearer.
Her heart skipped, the hum in her chest pulsing like a drum.
They weren't searching vaguely.
They were hunting her.
She bolted down a narrow alley before she even realized her legs were moving. Flour dust trailed from her basket like smoke.
"Serenyx!" Lytheris's voice rang from behind, furious, but she didn't slow. Not until she turned a sharp corner and collided with someone solid.
The basket tumbled. Rolls scattered across cobblestones.
Strong hands steadied her before she fell. "Watch where you..."
The words cut short. Serenyx looked up and forgot how to breathe.
The man before her was unlike anyone she had ever seen. His hair was midnight-dark, tied back with deliberate precision. His clothes were travel-worn yet carried the unmistakable cut of nobility. And his eyes; cold, piercing, the pale steel of a winter lake, studied her with unnerving calm.
For a moment, the market noise faded.
Her first thought: Handsome, but in a terrifying way.
Her second thought: Of course the universe would make me crash into a scary statue of perfection on the same day assassins want my head.
"Move," he said, voice low, clipped.
She scrambled back, cheeks burning. "Right, sorry! I didn't mean to..."
But he was already stooping to pick up one of her fallen rolls, brushing dust from it with deliberate care. Then, without a word, he set it back in her basket and walked past her.
Serenyx blinked after him, stunned. No lecture, no scolding, no strange questions. Just ice-cold silence.
"Rude much?" she muttered under her breath, though part of her couldn't stop staring as he disappeared into the crowd. Something about him lingered, unsettling and magnetic at once.
Lytheris caught up, panting. "Are you trying to get yourself caught?"
She shoved a roll into his mouth before he could say more. "Relax. I just made a new… acquaintance."
His muffled reply was pure exasperation.
By noon, the tension in the market had thickened to a choking fog. The Shadow Sect spread their net tighter, questioning stall after stall. Word rippled: they were searching for a girl "marked by the sky."
Serenyx's fingers twitched at her basket handle. Marked by the sky.
That was her.
She edged closer to Lytheris. "We need to leave."
"We can't just walk out"
"Then we run."
He stared at her, jaw tight. He hated chaos, hated risk. But even he knew staying meant discovery.
Before either of them could act, a soldier barked: "You, girl! Hood down."
Serenyx froze.
Time stretched, her pulse hammering. Slowly, she lifted her head. The soldier stepped closer, parchment in hand, eyes narrowing.
But before recognition struck, chaos erupted.
A stray ox, startled by the noise, barreled through a cart of melons. Stalls toppled. People screamed. The soldier was shoved aside in the frenzy.
Serenyx didn't waste the chance. She grabbed Lytheris's arm. "Now!"
They plunged into the crush of bodies, dodging baskets, vaulting over crates. Behind them, the shouts of the Shadow Sect rang louder, furious.
And through the madness, she caught one last glimpse, those pale steel eyes watching her from across the square. Unmoving, unblinking, as if he had already known.
The whispers in her chest coiled tighter, almost pleased.
The sky wasn't done with her.
Not yet.