Aina watched the thieves vanish into the gloom of the winding alleyway and offered a helpless little shrug.
Raveth remained silent. He knew better than to speak. The Saintess was in a volatile mood, vibrating with a manic energy that made the air around her feel thin. Provoking her now would be suicide.
"Come on," Aina said, turning on her heel with a bright smile. "You recommended this city. Show me around."
Raveth nodded stiffly. He took the lead, guiding her toward a district he knew well.
Decades ago, this had been his home. These streets had belonged to his grandfather. Now, Raveth was nothing but a fugitive, a heretic hunted by the Holy Order. As they passed the city gates, his eyes had flickered over the notice board. His face was still there, sketched in charcoal, promising a bounty for his head.
