The market erupted before Serenyx could blink.
One of the Shadow Sect soldiers shoved a merchant aside and pointed directly at her, bellowing, "There! The girl!"
Every head turned.
"Oh, for crying out loud" Serenyx muttered, grabbing Lytheris's arm. "We are definitely cursed."
Lytheris didn't waste time on sarcasm. He shoved her ahead, weaving through startled villagers. "Keep low, don't stop, and..."
"...don't do anything reckless, I know!" Serenyx snapped, already breaking that rule by glancing back.
The soldiers surged after them, black armor flashing. But they weren't the only ones moving. The cold-eyed stranger, the prince, though she didn't know it yet, cut across the square with measured strides, not chasing, not rushing, just… approaching. Like he knew she couldn't escape anyway.
Serenyx's pulse skipped. She couldn't decide what terrified her more: the soldiers shouting her name, or that one silent man whose gaze clung to her like chains.
"Lytheris, who is he?" she hissed.
"No one we want to meet," Lytheris growled. "Faster!"
But the crowd clogged around them. Vendors pulled carts aside, mothers dragged children away, voices rose in confusion. And the soldiers were gaining.
Serenyx's mind raced. Her fingers twitched against her side, instinctively reaching for a power she swore she wouldn't use. Not here. Not in front of so many eyes.
Don't, she warned herself. Don't you dare. One spark and they'll know.
But the whispers in the sky, it was as if they laughed.
Kaelthorn watched the chase unfold, every detail sliding neatly into place.
The girl wasn't running like prey. She darted, stumbled, cursed under her breath, but her eyes were alive, calculating. Not desperation. Defiance.
So it's true, he thought. The Vessel breathes.
He didn't draw his blade. He didn't need to. His men fanned out, cutting off flanking paths, herding her like wolves circling a fox. The Shadow Sect shouted louder, but Kaelthorn ignored them. He wasn't here to compete. He was here to claim.
The girl's hood slipped again, fully this time. Her face was revealed to him in the chaos: flushed cheeks, storm-dark eyes, strands of hair whipping loose. She was younger than he'd expected, and more dangerous. Because danger often came wrapped in laughter.
And she was laughing.
Even as soldiers lunged, even as her cousin dragged her forward, she tossed a grin over her shoulder, directly at him.
Kaelthorn's chest tightened with something sharp and unfamiliar. Not amusement. Not admiration. Something stranger.
"This girl," he murmured to himself, "is trouble."
His stallion, tied at the post behind him, stamped as if agreeing.
Trouble indeed.
Because Serenyx had finally lost patience.
When a soldier lunged too close, she spun, thrusting out her hand. She didn't want to,she really didn't...but the whispers had grown unbearable, pressing against her ribs, demanding release.
Flame roared from her palm.
Not ordinary flame. Gold and white, streaked with red, shaped like a wing. It blasted the soldier backward into a fruit cart, sending apples raining down in a ridiculous cascade.
The crowd gasped. A child screamed. Lytheris swore violently.
And Serenyx, of all things, snorted. "Well. So much for keeping a low profile."
Her laughter cut short when she saw him.
The tall stranger had stopped moving. For the first time, his mask cracked, not into fear, not into anger, but into something like recognition. His eyes locked on the wing-shaped fire curling around her fingers.
Serenyx's stomach dropped.
He knows.
"Serenyx!" Lytheris barked, shoving her toward an alley.
She stumbled, turning just as the prince stepped forward, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword.
Their eyes met again.
The storm had broken.
The hunt had truly begun.