For the hundredth time since leaving Fortaim, Matt looked over his shoulder.

  For the four days since they had escaped the little town, Matt had felt as if someone, or something, were following him. He had never spied it himself, but somehow, he knew it was there. He hadn’t told Rachel about it - mostly because he knew she would ridicule him for it - but if even she hadn’t noticed it, he was probably just being paranoid.

  They had returned to the river, keeping it close but not too close. Rachel had told him that they should see Trensicourt today - though that had been nine hours ago, and the sun had almost set without illuminating a shred of a city. Matt, as much as he knew it would be safer to stay well away from people who could recognize him as a Beyonder, already missed the chaos and convenience of city life.

  “There,” Rachel said, pointing diagonally away from the river to a gap between two low hills. Matt tensed and whipped his head around to see what Rachel was describing and spied what he could only discern as an impossibly bright speck of light in the distance. He squinted against the dying sunlight and saw that the light was but a reflection on the metal roof of a strong, stout tower, jutting serenely from a bed of crenellated stone walls.

  Rachel let out a quick breath and skipped forward, forcing Matt to break into a jog and catch up. Matt checked over his shoulder again, and at his shocking discovery that there was nothing there, he sprinted to catch up with Rachel and grabbed her arm, slowing her back down to a walk.

  “What’s up?” Rachel asked. “Can’t handle some good news?”

  Matt shook his head, wondering how he could put his invisible worry into words. “No, not that. It’s…” He hooked a hand behind his head and glanced at the ground. “I’ve had this feeling ever since we left Fortaim. Something’s following us.”

  Rachel stopped dead in her tracks. “What is it?”

  Matt halted beside Rachel, whose face had gone white. “I- I don’t know. I’ve never seen-”

  “No, no,” Rachel muttered, shaking her head. “It can’t be a lurker. I’d have felt it.”

  Something cold spidered through Matt’s chest. “What’s a-”

  “Nothing we need to worry about,” Rachel spat, her words coming out recklessly. “We should get inside those walls.”

  Matt needed no encouragement. With the sun behind them, they left all pretense of comfort behind and ran.

  ? ? ?

  Even though he had been raised in a sizable town, Matt was not at all prepared for the pure chaos that was the gates of Trensicourt after dark. After they had circled the city walls for a good thirty minutes, dodging farmers’ fields and little outskirt communities alike, they had spotted a raucous gathering of farmers and travelers outside a great arched gate. bickering and clamoring for a quick crossing.

  “Try to blend in,” Rachel said, assuming a careless gait as they approached the mob. “We should talk like we know each other.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows. “We could just… get to know each other.”

  Rachel cocked her head. “Only if we can pass as travelers who just met on the road.”

  “We were only seen once, and it was only four days ago,” Matt argued. “Shouldn’t be too hard. We did just sort of meet on the road.”

  “Fair enough,” Rachel conceded. “What was it like, growing up with Jason?”

  A sharp breath pushed itself out from Matt’s chest. Evidently, Rachel was not at all afraid to dive deep. “I… I don’t know. I think I only realized how much of a presence he was after he disappeared the first time.”

  Rachel nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  “Hm?”

  “He disappeared for me, too.” Rachel indicated the crowd ahead. “I shouldn’t speak of it in public.”

  “Okay.” Matt smoothed his hair back, grimacing at the grime and grease that had been caked on over the days of traveling. “What about you? Like, when you came here.”

  Rachel smiled. “Honestly, I didn’t like him very much at first. He was stubborn. A little sexist. But…”

  She trailed off, and Matt did not feel ready to break the silence, so they integrated into the crowd silently. The people around them paid them no mind - most of them simply kept their eyes forward and shuffled ahead with the slow-moving masses. Matt caught the eye of a small girl, holding onto a pair of gigantic gourds in the back of a trailer, but they both quickly looked away.

  “Same as you, really,” Rachel finally continued. “But… I guess for the whole time I was with him, until he went back home, I just felt like a passenger. Not unlike how you probably feel now.”

  She was right. Her words had struck a chord within Matt, as if he had smashed a gong and held it to his chest. He bit his lip and fell back a step, though he was quickly shuffled forwards again by a disgruntled trader behind him.

  “Keep it moving, vagrant,” the man grumbled. “Some of us are here for more than people-watching.”

  Great. Leave it to a big city to decline to offer even the briefest moments of despair. Matt caught up with Rachel and offered her a light push on the arm, hoping she would understand that he didn’t yet feel capable of responding.

  “I get it, I think,” Rachel said, leaning in closer to him and lowering her voice slightly. “Even once we find Jason, you’re still worried about playing the same role you do with me.”

  Matt sighed in defeat. “Can you blame me?”

  Rachel shook her head. “Not at all.”

  Silence once again overtook the conversation for a moment, though they were now close enough to the city gates that Matt worried their silence would draw attention. “So… what do we tell the gatewardens?”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows. “You know the word. Not bad.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “We tell them the truth, of course.” Rachel gave him a sincere glance, then turned to face the back of the farmer ahead of her. “We are siblings, traveling from Whitehead in hopes of earning a living for our ailing mother.”

  “Right, of course,” Matt said, putting on an air of nonchalance. “And remind me what our mother is battling?”

  “Sickness,” Rachel shrugged ambiguously. “She’s not as young as she used to be. You’d know if you hadn’t been out in Weych trying and failing to do the same damn thing we’re doing here.”

  “That wasn’t very nice,” Matt protested. As much as she was just keeping up a front - one that Matt couldn’t help but fear he was tearing down - her words still somehow hurt.

  Rachel sighed, knocking into him briefly. “Sorry. I know it was for the best. I just… it’s hard, going through all that alone.”

  She seemed so genuinely crushed that Matt had to consciously hold himself back from reaching out to her. “You’re not alone. Not anymore. We’re in this together now.”

  Rachel scoffed, and it was then that Matt saw the tears working their way slowly down her face. She wiped them away furiously, then looked at him with a sadness that could tarnish gold. “You’re so corny when it’s convenient, little brother.”

  Matt almost flinched at the reminder of their pretended kinship. “Sorry for trying to help.”

  “And there’s the other thing you’re good at,” Rachel noticed. “We’ve been apart for too long. We need to learn how we work.”

  “Deal,” Matt said, if only to shut the conversation down before she could continue to flip it on his head. “We’re almost there.”

  Rachel smiled. “Finally. Thought we’d be here all night.”

  The mob shuffled forward until there were three, then two, then one group ahead of them. The gatewardens wore functional iron armor and wielded wicked poleaxes that glimmered fleetingly in the guttering torchlight. Though they stood tall, and carried themselves strongly, they spoke kindly to the small family in front of them - the same family with the little girl and the gourds.

  “Who’s this little whelp?” one guard said endearingly, leaning over the trailer and resting a hand on its gunwale. “Never seen you before, pip.”

  “I’m Jem,” the kid said proudly. “Just turned five, so Papa said I could come see the market tomorrow.”

  The gatewarden pushed himself away from the cart and waved the family onward. “You know where to go. Good luck this week.”

  The father thanked him and pushed onward, leaving Matt and Rachel to face the four guardsmen. Unlike with the previous entrant, all four converged on the pair, hefting their poleaxes and taking formation in front of Matt and Rachel.

  Matt, though he knew he should not show fear, was quickly losing his nerve. Even before any of the gatewardens spoke, he was already itching to glance behind him, hoping that whoever followed them in line would somehow rush them forward.

  “State your business,” one of the guards said, gazing directly at Matt.

  “We come seeking work,” Matt said simply. He did not trust himself to say more. He could remember the story Rachel had told him - probably, at least - but if he flubbed a line, or messed something up…

  “Aye, don’t they all,” the guard replied. “Where from?”

  Matt glanced at Rachel. “Whitehead, originally. I’ve been working out in Weych.”

  The guard leaned forward curiously. “Don’t smell the sea on ye.”

  “Happens when you spend a week walking inland,” Matt said flippantly.

  The guard scoffed. “Didn’t think to borrow a horse?”

  “Hence the search for work,” Matt countered.

  “Fair play,” the guard recognized. “On with ye. Ye’d better have enough to stay off the streets tonight.”

  “We will,” Matt rushed, nodding to the guard and leading Rachel through the gate and into the bustling city. Rachel skipped to catch up, her already-tiring boots clapping against the uneven cobblestones.

  “Good job back there,” Rachel praised. “I forgot to tell you you’d have to do the talking.”

  Matt held his eyes closed for a moment, masking a giddy flash of relief. “Hey- about what you said. Back in line.”

  Rachel shook her head. “We’ll talk about it when we find somewhere to sleep.”

  “You know where to go?”

  Rachel shrugged. “It’s been a while. I’d say we’re a fifteen-minute walk from anything we can afford.”

  “Lead on,” Matt assented.

  And so they walked, past bustling bars, candlelit restaurants, libraries, fountains and so much more. Delicious smells vied for Matt’s attention, each beckoning towards the best meal he’d had in weeks, but he kept his eyes either facing forward or directly on Rachel. He couldn’t afford to look like a tourist. From what Rachel had said to him before they left Fortaim, he wondered if Lyrian even had tourists.

  “Here,” Rachel said, handing Matt three bronze pellets. “One room. I’ll sleep on the floor. No sense spending any more than we have to.”

  They entered a sturdily built three-story inn, heralded by a sign out front as Humble’s Den, and passed reception without incident. Though their room was small, it was still a sizable upgrade from the glades and ravines in which they had been sleeping for the past few days. It had cost them sixteen drooma, leaving them with sixty-two. A small dresser, bed and rug completed the room, along with an oil lamp that Rachel lit with a word.

  Matt bit his lip nervously. “Again, when we were talking…”

  Rachel exhaled gently. “Yeah, sorry. Got a bit emotional.”

  “But-” Matt stuttered. “You made it all up. I’m more concerned about, um…” He scratched the back of his neck, already wishing he had never brought this back up.

  “That I made it sound too much like the truth?”

  Matt stopped, swallowed glumly and nodded. He looked away from Rachel, hoping he wasn’t going to get the conversation he knew would come.

  “I admit,” Rachel started, “I’m a good liar. I had to be. We still have to be, for now at least. But the emotion, as much as I drew on it for show, was real.”

  Matt looked at her, hoping she understood the silent question in his eyes.

  Rachel blinked, then looked away. “I’m not giving you my life story for free.”

  Frustration shook through Matt’s chest. As if she hadn’t been the catalyst for all this. As if she hadn’t dragged him into her world with nothing more than the promise of Jason.

  “I think you owe me at least something,” Matt tried, then instantly regretted opening his mouth.

  Rachel stooped into a crouch and rolled onto her back on the weathered rug. “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t shake the urge to try to prepare you for a world where you can’t look up a name on your phone.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows, more than a little surprised. “You do have a heart.”

  Rachel smiled. “And you have a sense of humor. The sky must be falling.”

  A strange warmth blossomed behind Matt’s rib cage, and he found himself unable to resist a smile. He leaned back onto the bed, which creaked slightly as he sat down. “I know I have to get used to it. Lyrian, I mean. Honestly, I have yet to process everything that’s happened since I left for Olympia.”

  Rachel rolled onto her side, facing the little bed with both hands tucked under her head. “Take tonight for it. Nothing else has to happen until we leave in the morning.”

  “Okay.” Matt pushed himself to his feet and lowered the wick in the oil lamp until the flame withered away. “Thanks, Rachel.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Rachel replied. “I’m the whole reason you’re in this mess.”

  Matt smirked. “Blame Jason. He wrote that stupid letter.”

  “Good idea. Shove a sock in his mouth for me.” Rachel scuffed against the floor, which Matt could only assume meant she was rolling over. Once he had stumbled his way back to the bed, he dropped onto it and pulled the covers over his still-clothed form, wincing at the prospect of sleeping in dirty clothes - though it was still preferable to sleeping without them with Rachel in the room.

  “Night,” Matt said, rolling to face Rachel, then changing his mind and turning to his other side.

  “Night,” Rachel replied. Matt tried not to smile, and failed.

  For the first time, he felt more than just wariness of Rachel. The mistrust, as much as she had tried, hadn’t moved at all. But there was something else now, something almost more dangerous.

  If that thing outgrew his caution, if it clouded his judgment, if it allowed him to trust… he would be asking for the worst kind of trouble.

  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about Rachel had been screaming dishonesty ever since they had returned to Lyrian. He didn’t know where, he didn’t know when, but he knew she couldn’t keep it in forever.

  He just hoped he could keep a hold of himself until it happened.