Sera's POV
The glass bottle slipped from my hand and shattered across the floor.
I froze, staring at the purple liquid spreading between the broken pieces. Three months' worth of fever medicine—gone. My hands shook as I grabbed a rag, trying to save what I could, but it was useless. The medicine soaked into the old wooden boards, wasted.
"Sera?" My brother Finn appeared in the doorway, his brown eyes wide. "What happened?"
"Nothing. I'm fine." I forced a smile, even though my chest felt tight. We couldn't afford to lose medicine. We could barely afford to eat.
I threw the rag aside and went back to grinding herbs with my mortar and pestle. The familiar motion usually calmed me, but today my shoulders wouldn't relax. I kept glancing at the door of our tiny apothecary shop.
Something felt wrong.
Finn organized bottles on the shelves, humming softly. He'd grown so much this year—seventeen now, almost a man. But to me, he'd always be the little boy I'd protected since our mother died.
No. Not died. Executed.
Seven years ago, the empire's guards dragged our mother to the Grand Plaza and cut off her head in front of everyone. Her crime? Refusing to poison a nobleman for the Emperor. She chose death over murder.
I chose to run.
"Sera, you're grinding that rosemary into dust," Finn said gently.
I looked down. He was right. I'd been grinding the same herbs for five minutes, lost in bad memories.
"Sorry. I'm just..." I trailed off as heavy footsteps marched past our shop. Through the dirty window, I saw imperial guards—at least six of them—heading toward the market square.
My heart jumped into my throat.
"They've been patrolling all morning," Finn said quietly, moving closer to me. "Old Man Chen said they arrested two people from the baker's street yesterday."
"For what?"
"Nobody knows. No charges. They just took them."
I pressed my hand against the floorboard where Mother's journal was hidden. The forbidden book that could get us both killed if anyone found it. Blood magic rituals. Healing spells the empire had outlawed. Secrets that died with her—except she'd written them all down.
The door burst open.
I grabbed the pestle like a weapon, but it was only Mrs. Kade, our neighbor. She was breathing hard, her wrinkled face pale.
"Guards," she gasped. "They're going house to house in the east quarter. Checking papers. Arresting anyone who looks suspicious."
The pestle fell from my hand.
The east quarter was three streets away. We had maybe ten minutes.
"Thank you, Mrs. Kade," I managed to say.
She nodded and hurried out, warning the next shop.
Finn's face had gone white. "Sera, do you think—"
"No," I said firmly, even though my hands were shaking. "Nobody knows we're here. We've been careful. It's been seven years, Finn. Seven years and Uncle Theron hasn't found us."
But I didn't believe my own words.
Our uncle had stolen everything after Mother's execution—our house, our money, our family name. He'd declared us dead to hide his crimes. If he ever discovered we were alive...
"Maybe I should go out," Finn said suddenly. "Get supplies before the guards lock down the quarter. We're low on bread and—"
"No!" The word came out too sharp. I softened my voice. "Just... stay here. Stay with me. We'll close early today."
Finn nodded, but I saw the frustration in his eyes. He hated hiding. Hated living like criminals when we'd done nothing wrong.
I started closing the shutters, my heart pounding with each movement. Through the last window, I saw more guards in the distance. They were getting closer.
"Sera, I'll just be quick," Finn said behind me. "The baker's shop is right around the corner. Five minutes, I promise."
"Finn, no—"
But he was already grabbing his coat, that stubborn look on his face. The same look Mother used to get.
"Five minutes," he repeated. "I'll be back before you finish closing up."
He slipped out the door before I could stop him.
I stood there, frozen, every instinct screaming at me to run after him. But someone had to stay and guard the shop. Guard Mother's journal. Guard the only home we had left.
I finished closing the shutters, counting seconds in my head.
Five minutes. He promised five minutes.
I paced the small shop, grinding more herbs just to keep my hands busy. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
My chest got tighter with each breath.
Twenty minutes.
The street outside had gone quiet. Too quiet.
Thirty minutes.
I couldn't wait anymore. I grabbed my cloak and reached for the door handle.
That's when I heard it.
Screaming.
Not close—several streets away—but definitely screaming. And underneath it, a sound that made my blood freeze.
Marching boots. Lots of them.
I threw open the door and ran toward the noise, my heart hammering so hard it hurt. People were running past me, away from the market square. Their faces were twisted with fear.
"What happened?" I grabbed a woman's arm.
"Arrests," she gasped. "The guards—they're taking everyone—"
She yanked free and kept running.
I pushed forward, against the crowd, toward the square. I had to find Finn. I had to—
I saw him.
My brother was on his knees in the middle of the market square, his hands chained behind his back. Blood dripped from his nose. Six imperial guards surrounded him, their swords drawn.
An officer in red stood over Finn, reading from a scroll in a voice loud enough for the gathering crowd to hear.
"Finn Ashveil, you are charged with theft from the estate of Lord Theron Ashveil. The penalty for stealing from nobility is death. Your execution is scheduled for three days from now at the Grand Plaza."
The world tilted.
No. No, no, no—
Finn's eyes found mine in the crowd. His lips moved, forming words I couldn't hear over the roaring in my ears.
Then the officer's gaze followed Finn's, landing directly on my face.
His eyes widened with recognition.
"The sister," he said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "Lord Theron said there would be a sister."
The guards started moving toward me.
I ran.