Empire of Sand
Chapter Eighteen

“Ash, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” said William.

I tried to pretend he wasn’t there, fearful of Banshee’s threat. If he discovered I’d spoken with anyone before the next match, I shuddered to think of the consequences for both of us.

“William, I can’t be seen with you right now,” I whispered.

“What are you talking about? Since when is it against the rules to speak with each other outside of our training matches?”

“Since Banshee threatened to have me dismembered if he caught me doing it,” I told him.

William froze. I sighed and turned to face him, feeling guilty already. The truth was, I craved William’s company, especially now, when my nerves were frayed. But I couldn’t risk myself or anyone else, especially when we’d made it this far in the Trials.

“I’m sorry. I’ll find you later, okay? I fight at noon. The Emperor will be in attendance,” I added, before ducking into a crowd of arguing men.

I made my way through the city’s inner workings, unsure of my direction or purpose. The training grounds were oppressive, a reminder of Ian’s peculiar death and Banshee’s menacing presence. The contenders themselves had changed in demeanor; their hopeful spirits were slipping away, replaced with anger and suspicion. Banshee’s threat echoed in my mind as I waved off an eager trader shoving pelts at me from the stall to my right. Beyond him was a tent selling spices and herbal tonics. The smells of sage and something floral perfumed the surrounding air, welcoming overheated buyers with the tempting allure of rest.

An older woman presiding over the wares occupied an aged wooden chair beneath the tent shade, her scraggly white hair falling in thin layers over hunched shoulders. A thick woven shawl was draped over those shoulders despite the heat, and her dress was threadbare and fell past her toes. The hem was caked with dust and frayed along the edges.

“What is that lovely smell?” I asked.

The woman looked up at me with one eye closed, revealing a single blue eye with a milky film across it. Mama called them cataracts; our old dog had gotten them years ago, and she’d gone blind.

“There are several smells, girl—to which are you referring?”

I sniffed, drawing the air in through my nostrils and closing my eyes to savor the feeling of calm that came over me.

“It’s floral and sweet. I think of flowers after a rain. It’s calming,” I told her.

She cracked a grin. Her skin was heavily wrinkled with age and tanned from so many hours in the sun. Her fingers were bent and swollen at the joints.

“You fancy the lavender,” she muttered. “It’s scarce. I traded for it near the docks. The wealthy use it in their baths. I use it in my tonics. Lavender is very versatile.”

The purple blossoms had a robust smell and soft, dainty petals.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it? They fill their bellies with meat and their baths with blossoms, and on the other side of the gates, we fight for the crumbs of their tables.”

I’d said the words aloud before realizing it, and now it was too late to take them back. The old woman watched me through her milky lens, a sly smile on her thin, dry lips.

“That is only a piece of the tragedy, my girl. Imagine the slaves who grew the lavender, and the pirates who stole it and sold it to me?”

“That’s awful,” I agreed. “Why buy it, then?” I asked her. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“The same reason you make yourself a court spectacle,” she told me. “Survival. I have a family to care for. Pride has nothing to do with it.”

Her words stung, but I could see their wisdom, nonetheless. I’d judged her unfairly for something I was just as guilty of.

“I suppose I deserved that,” I confessed.

The old woman chortled and slapped her knee.

“I like you, girl. You remind me of that young man from the other day.”

“Young man?”

She nodded and picked up a roll of spun wool and began working it with her fingers. She did so with the ease and speed of someone who spun regularly, and even her crooked and inflamed joints didn’t impede her work.

“Yes, the handsome one. He was one of yours, I think. Ian, he said his name was. He was an eager pupil. If he hadn’t been so intent on gambling with his own life, I might have taken him as my apprentice, assuming I could have afforded to pay one. He came asking about my tonics.” She sniffed.

“He did? What did he ask you?”

I ducked beneath the shade of the tent and lowered my voice.

“He was murdered,” I told her.

The woman’s eyes widened, and her lip quivered. She clamped her mouth shut resolutely and turned her gaze back to her work, evading me.

I tried again. “What do you know?”

She shook her head, keeping her eyes downcast.

“You ranchers and farmers are all alike,” she muttered. She dropped the wool on her lap and waggled a finger at me. “Naïve to the workings of the city. Well, let me tell it to you this way, girl: Not all that shimmers is gold!”

“I’m not sure I understand you.”

“And I prefer my head as it is, attached to my shoulders. So I’ll keep my words

brief, young lady. People turn up dead around here, especially when they’re sticking their noses where they ought not to. If you treasure your life, and clearly you don’t,” she muttered, “then you’d do well to keep your questions to yourself. That young man is dead, gods rest his soul. No amount of clarity can change that.”

I waited in silence, hoping the old woman would expound, but she ignored me. The sun was nearly in the center of the sky, and I was due at the pits soon. I thanked the old woman and started back for the training grounds, heavy with unease.

People turn up dead around her . . . .

Could it be that Ian wasn’t an arbitrary victim but a casualty of secrets? What questions did he have for the old woman with the tonics, and how did it tie into his murder?

I felt my skin crawl with the feeling of being watched. I knew I couldn’t share my suspicions with Tessie. I didn’t know what influence Banshee held over her, but my instincts warned me against confiding in my friend. Though Paul was pleasant company after a long day, I hardly considered him a close confidant. That left William, whom I’d dismissed only moments before. After the match was done, I would find him and tell him about the old woman, Ian, and Tessie’s warnings. That was if I didn’t die first.

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