Celeste

  We’d been standing in line long enough for the sun to crawl across most of the sky. We led the horses on foot now, like everyone else, unwilling to burden a restless animal while the line crept toward the gate.

  Rodin loomed ahead of us, its walls rising higher than anything I’d ever seen. Pale stone rose in thick, immaculate layers. Towers climbed into the sky at uneven intervals, banners snapping lazily above them. Even from this distance, the city breathed—voices, iron, animals, the low, constant hum of too many people packed too close together.

  Three lines fed into the main gate, with the first moving the fastest.

  Nobles and merchants passed through with barely a pause. Their horses shod clean, cloaks trimmed, guards stepping aside once seals were shown or coin changed hands. Some didn’t even dismount. Papers flashed and the gate opened for them, the city yielding without question.

  The second line moved nearly as quickly—and one that made my stomach tighten.

  The line for Casters.

  A guard’s voice rang out every few minutes. “Casters to the left! Any Casters, move to the left line!”

  The call carried over the crowd, repeated, again and again as the line crawled forward. Some people hesitated, glancing around before stepping out. Others moved immediately, hands already half-raised, eager to be done with the wait.

  We didn’t move.

  Even when the shout came again, I kept my eyes forward and my hands tucked into my sleeves.

  Casters who answered the call and went into that line were asked to show their hands, and their element. A brief flicker of Fire. A ripple of Water. Stone moving beneath their feet.

  Beside the gate, a man sat at a narrow table, head bent over a ledger. He scribbled without looking up, ink scratching quick, as names and affinities were spoken aloud. When he finished, Casters were waved through without another word.

  A pair of Healers passed through at different points, each offering nothing more than a faint glow in their palms before being waved on. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to prove truth of their gift.

  The Caster line stood empty only a moment before a woman walked straight to the front.

  Her stride was confident. The guards barely glanced at one another before one of them gestured her forward.

  “Show it,” he said.

  She raised her hands and then the air changed.

  Darkness spilled from her palms, curling outward like smoke poured into still air. It rolled in slow folds, black enough to swallow the light around it.

  The guards reacted at once.

  “Back,” one barked, shoving the crowd away. “Give her room.”

  The woman drew the smoke back in, coiling it tighter around her hands before pulling it into herself. It thinned, faded, and vanished as if it had never been there at all.

  A hush fell over the gate.

  Whispers broke out around us.

  “What was that?”

  “Never seen anything like it.”

  The guards didn’t ask questions. One sharp nod, a quick mark on the ledger, and she was waved through.

  Lioren leaned in closer. “Well,” he murmured, “seems you’re not the only one walkin’ around with somethin’ outside the usual.”

  I kept my eyes on the gate long after she disappeared beyond it.

  “Have you ever seen anything like that?” I asked.

  He shook his head once. “No. And I’ve seen my fair bit.”

  The guard shouted again.

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  “Casters to the left!”

  I shifted my grip on the reins and focused on the warmth of my gelding beside me. I wasn’t about to raise Light here—not when being seen meant being written down.

  Our line advanced only a single step.

  The third line, and the one we stood in, barely moved at all.

  Everyone else waited here. Laborers. Families. Farmers with carts piled high. Travelers with no papers and nothing to offer but answers. Guards questioned them carefully, sometimes for longer. A few were turned away outright, sent back down the road with hard expressions.

  Rodin was fickle about who it let inside its walls, and I had no way of knowing if we would be turned away too.

  When I first set eyes on the city’s enormous walls, my heart ached that Art wasn’t standing beside me to see them.

  I forced myself to breathe and shook the thought away.

  Now that I was here, I was closer than I’d ever been to rescuing Faylen. I didn’t know where the compound was, only that it was somewhere around this city.

  I also didn’t know if Art had already made it here on his own. I’d have to learn whether he had passed through here ahead of me… or if I’d already missed him entirely.

  My search would begin the moment we passed through the gates, at least, if we made it that far.

  Lioren and I had been riding together for nearly a week now. Long enough for the road to settle into a rhythm and for his humming to fade into something I barely noticed now. We hadn’t rushed. But there were no more detours made either.

  Lioren shifted beside me, adjusting the strap of his pack. He didn’t look at the Caster’s line. Just waited with me, patient as a rock.

  I tugged my hood lower out of habit.

  “Don’t,” Lioren said, not even glancing my way.

  I froze.

  He finally looked at me then, his expression calm. “Not here. You hide now and you invite questions. You should take off the hood. Let ‘em see you.”

  I swallowed and eased the fabric away from my face.

  “If anyone’s lookin’ they won’t try anythin’ in the open. Not with the guards here. Better they come to you where you can see them.”

  The line crept again.

  The man ahead of us stepped forward alone. No cart. No pack worth noting. Just a plain cloak and a satchel at his side.

  The guard glanced up. “Business in Rodin?”

  “Resident,” the man said.

  The guard nodded and waved him through without another word. No questions. No slate lifted. No inspection.

  I frowned. How could he be so sure?

  The next family was already moving forward before the space had fully cleared.

  The family stood at the front of the gate now. A man with graying hair and dust ground into the knees of his trousers. A woman clutched a wrapped bundle that resolved into a little girl when she shifted her grip.

  One of the guards stepped forward.

  He didn’t ask their business.

  His voice was flat. The tone of someone who had said the same words too many times to care. “Any Casters among you?”

  The man shook his head immediately. “No, sir.”

  The guard didn’t react. Didn’t look impressed or skeptical. Just nodded once and continued.

  “If you are found Casting within Rodin’s walls without declaring yourselves here and now, it is a punishable offense,” he said. “Fines start at silver. Imprisonment is at the discretion of the city. Repeat offenses carry harsher penalties.”

  The woman tightened her hold on the child.

  The guard shifted his weight. “Any weapons to claim?”

  “None.”

  “No blades. No bows. No tools beyond what you carry for work?”

  The man hesitated, then shook his head. “No, sir.”

  The guard made a mark on his slate. His gaze flicked briefly to the cart behind them, empty save for a few sacks and rolled blankets.

  “No livestock,” he noted aloud, more for the record than for them.

  Then he looked up at the man properly for the first time.

  “Your business in Rodin?”

  The answer came without pause.

  The man’s face twisted. “My mother’s ill. Dying. She lives in the lower quarter. We were sent for.”

  Something wrenched in my chest.

  The words were too familiar. Too close to the lie Art and I practiced on the road.

  Now, standing this close to the gate, I’m glad Lioren had made me change it.

  The guard studied the man’s face for a moment longer, then nodded once. Another mark on the slate.

  Another guard stepped forward before the family could move.

  He was older than the first, his beard shot through with gray. He didn’t speak at first. Just lifted his hands and motioned them closer.

  “Hold,” he said.

  He inspected them one by one. Tilted the man’s chin up and peered into his eyes, then pressed two fingers briefly to his wrist as if counting something. He made the woman open her mouth, checking her tongue, her gums. When she coughed nervously, his gaze sharpened, but he only grunted and moved on.

  He did the same to the man and even the baby.

  Satisfied, the guard straightened.

  He circled the cart next, tugging at the sacks, prodding rolled blankets with the butt of his spear. He gave a short nod to the first guard.

  “That’ll do.”

  As they disappeared beneath the arch, I felt the knot in my chest loosen.

  Not because they’d made it inside, but because I now knew exactly what would be done to us.

  The guard’s attentions came on us next.

  “Casters?”

  Lioren answered before I could. “No.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Two blades,” he said easily. “Declared.”

  A glance between us and then a quick nod. No issue made of it.

  The older guard stepped in close, repeating the inspection with brisk efficiency. First to Lioren, then to me. Two fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face into the light. His gaze lingered a fraction longer than I liked before moving on.

  They checked our packs, which we left sparse by design. No hidden objects that might give us any trouble.

  The first guard lifted his slate again. “Your business in Rodin?”

  “Heard the city’s real good at separatin’ travelers from their coin,” Lioren said. “Figured we’d test the rumor.”

  The guard huffed once, sounding amused. “Staying the night?”

  “Aye,” Lioren said. “A few nights if the ale’s convincing.”

  “That’ll do,” the guard said, already shifting his attention past us.

  Stone swallowed us as we stepped beneath the arch, the city’s shadow falling over us in one cool sweep. Voices rose on the other side.

  I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding myself together until we were through.

  And just like that, the hunt began.