Starkeeper of the Fractured Crown

I spared the warlock a glance if only to get a better look at him. I had never seen him on this street before. His pointed ears peeked out from his thick, dusty black hair, his eyes were the color of red rubies, his skin just on the rich side of tawny as all warlocks were. He looked regal, perhaps directly from the capital of Sarivos, Ephraim.

“What brings you here today?”

I walked up to the counter, catching the slight frown that paired the warlock’s curious expression as I looked away. “Running low on Asilos Root again,” I explained evenly. I loved meeting new people, I didn’t love the things that came with meeting new people. Talking, mingling, discussing lives. I’d rather have my head in a book or my writing than talk with others, but, unfortunately, being alive meant having to communicate.

She clicked her tongue again, pushing herself to a trembling stand. A foot shorter than I was and covered in hellish wrinkles, it was almost impossible to see her beautiful blue eyes and light red painted lips. “You’re going through it too quick, girl. What are you doing in those haunted woods?”

I shrugged. “They aren’t haunted, just home to some dark things.”

“Dark things indeed,” she chuckled as she walked up to the endless shelves behind her, searching the variousjars and containers for the root I needed. “How much longer will I be receiving this?”

“Five weeks,” both the warlock and I answered.

She glanced back.

I kept my expression neutral. I had forgotten we weren’t alone and I could feel his eyes drilling into my skull with questions.

“Hmm,” she pondered, turning back. “Well, you best be careful then,” she warned, stepping onto a small stool. “How much do you want?”

I pulled out the golden earrings I had managed to steal and placed them on the counter. “Real gold,” I told her as she looked back. “Half a pound?”

“Hmm,” she mumbled again, eyes narrowing as she took in the earrings. “A little less. Prices have gone up.”

Damn. That wasn’t good.

“Fine,” I said on a huff, earning a stern look, to which I rolled my eyes.

“Human.”

I felt a slight tinge of fear stab through me at the tone in his voice when he released that one word. Hatred? Not quite, but something close to it.

“I am,” I replied calmly, finding his eyes. Showing weakness would only make me a target, so it didn’t matter that fear trickled down my spine in the form of sweat at this perfect stranger, showing it wasn’t an option. Luckily for me, warlocks didn’t have the same scent glands as most every other species, so he couldn’tsmellthe fear, but Madam Levine probably could.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I allowed a small shrug. “I could say thesame for you.”

His eyes were kind, that much I could tell. Behind the careful consideration, the intrigue, there was kindness in them, which allowed my shoulders to fall if only an inch. “Why?” He didn’t mean harm. He was just a curious warlock looking for answers.

“Your spell,” I answered easily. “It was wrong. Your magic doesn’t work like that. Maybe the Fae or the pixies would have had a problem with faltering magic but you?” I shook my head, turning back to Madam Levine. “No.”

He released a breath of disbelief, if I had to guess. “You can’t possibly know that.”

“Don’t underestimate this one,” Madam Levine stated, rejoining us. “She knows a lot of things. So much, it terrifies even me from time to time, but you get used to it.”

She hadn’t. Madam Levine had lectured me on many occasions when she thought I was simply being a know-it-all. Maybe I was, but I’d rather not die a terrible death because she mixed up two jars of flowers. One for healing, one for poison. It had been a stressful few minutes during that visit.

“How did you get in here?” the warlock asked, still watching me like a dog would watch a cat.

“I walked in,” I answered sarcastically.

Madam Levine laughed.

But the warlock was unimpressed. “There is a spell over this street. It’s not a place you can simply stumble upon. I had to use a spell myself to get here.”

The old shop owner picked up the earrings and inspected them with an eyeglass older than the world itself, I was sure.

“Recheck the spell,” I told him, watching her carefully.They were real gold, I already checked. “And if you’re old enough not to have learned this, you should definitely look into learning Sarivosian. The translations are horrendous. If the spell was originally written in the old language, it’s better to just learn and read it in that language than this one.”