My hood has slipped off. A prickle of panic tickles my spine. I bend, pretending to fuss with the pouch at my waist, where I’ve hidden the silver coins I’ve earned today. The knife is tucked into my belt beside it, still in its sheath. I let my fingers play over it for a moment. With my head still bowed, I slide the hood back up, praying the soldier will stop paying attention to me.
The Alpha grunts something I don’t catch. I dip my head in answer and hope that’s the right response. It must be, because after a few endless seconds, he moves on.
I grab my baskets. Time to skedaddle.
It’s sweltering hot, especially in this cloak. Sweat trickles down my back, making my dress itch. Too bad I can’t jump in the river—I’m burning up in this midday heat. I should head straight home, but my stomach won’t let me pass by my favorite booth that sells sweet cakes. I stop to buy some for lunch. Leelah, the one who bakes them, is distracted, constantly peering around and beyond me as she puts together my order.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Tensions are high,” she says in a whisper, tucking a strand of bright orange hair behind her pointed bronze ear. “They always get like this when it’s time to pay the king’s tithe. Not to mention, there’s some kind of sickness going around. My father says he hasn’t seen symptoms like it since—” She falls silent, lowering her head and busying herself with wrapping my cakes. A shadow falls over the stall.
It’s the Alpha from before. Did he follow me? Shitshitshit—
“Here you go,” Leelah chirps, handing me my package. She turns her smile to the soldier. “What can I get for you?”
He mumbles something that sounds more like a growl than words, but she obviously understands him just fine, since she nods and starts putting items together.
When I first arrived, I was able to understand Ma even though there was no way she was speaking English. After looking me over carefully, she deduced I had been given some kind of translation chip. I can feel the bump behind my ear, but I don’t like to touch it so I avoid it as much as I can. It took me a while but now I’m used to it translating speech in my head, although I don’t think I’ll ever stop struggling when I hear the Alphas talk.
The soldier and I are both watching Leelah fill his order. I should leave but I haven’t paid yet, and I want to know what else Leelah has heard about this mystery illness. Knowledge is power, after all, and if Ma does have it…
The hair on my arms lifts. The Alpha is staring at me. His eyes are slightly unfocused, and his nostrils flare as he inhales slowly. Is he… smelling me?
I take a step sideways, away from him, and surreptitiously duck my head to sniff my cloak. Did I sweat off my deodorant? Ma makes this herbal balm that works wonders, but maybe it’s worn off.
“Here you go.” Leelah comes to the rescue, holding the bag out for the soldier.
He blinks, then turns his head back to face her. “Thanks,” he mutters, taking his order from her.
“No charge,” Leelah says, her voice tight. “Thank you for your service to the king.”
The Alpha grunts his assent, and leaves.
My shoulders droop and I let my breath ease out of me. Being the object of that stare was intense. If Ma ever finds out I drew the attention of a big bad Alpha—twice—she’ll never let me come to the market again.
“Are you all right?” There’s a little crease of concern on Leelah’s brow.
“Of course. But Matron started feeling sick last night. Should I be worried?”
“Was she flushed?”
I hesitate, trying to remember how she looked the last time I saw her. “Maybe a little?”
“Oh, no.” The furrow in Leelah’s brow deepens before she mutters under her breath, “The Red Death.”
My heart drops straight through my stomach into my boots. “That doesn’t sound good,” I manage.
“It hasn’t been confirmed yet but there are whispers that this is another curse just like the Red Death. Of course, it might not be—”
“A curse? What sort of curse?”
“It starts with a rash. The skin turns a deep crimson. Then a wheezing cough. A fever. Then…” She bites her lip. “It gets worse. The whole body gradually hardens—like it’s turning to stone.”
Oh fuck, this is not good at all. As much as I want to run away, I need to hear all of this. I have to be able to help Ma if this is what she has.
“Victims of it feel like they’re burning, like they can’t breathe, and sleep is impossible due to the pain. Death is slow… but inevitable.”
“How slow?” I croak. I feel dizzy.
She shrugs. “Depends on how healthy the person was to start with. Days… weeks… when it last swept the kingdom, sometimes people were able to hang on for a month or more. But not many.”
“Did anyone survive?”
“Not until they found the cure.”
A surge of hope bubbles in my chest. Leelah should totally have led with this tidbit. “What is the cure?”
“I don’t know. The king discovered it, before he vanished. The curse vanished with him.”
“Vanished? But I thought… Everyone’s been complaining about the tithe. If there’s no king, whom do they pay it to?”
“The soldiers collect the tithe and send it to the capital—Medea City—where the king’s advisors rule in his stead. No one has seen the king since his parents died. Rumor has it he lives…” She turns and angles her face to the high cliff towering over the village. A broken wall of gray-green stone lines the rocky crag, surrounding a ruined turret. Once, I was tempted to hike the hill, but every path I found leading up to the top was blocked by a thicket of thorny vines.
“Up there? But those are ruins.” I peer up at it, blocking the suns with my hand so I can see better.
“Are they?” She raises an eyebrow. “Things aren’t always what they seem. Rumor has it the king is there, lying in stasis, protected by his magic.”
“Magic?” I can’t disguise my incredulity. Granted, there are some pretty weird things around here, but… magic? Seriously?
Leelah’s looking at me like I’m nuts for sounding skeptical. “Yes, magic.”
“I tried to hike up there once,” I offer. I wanted to get a glimpse of the sea on the far side of the castle. “There are a lot of brambles with wicked thorns.” But no magic, because magic doesn’t exist.
Leelah frowns like she heard my unspoken doubt. “They say when the king and queen died, the prince came into great power. But he was so saddened by their deaths, he wept for a year. And everywhere his tears fell, the thorny vines grew.”
“Wow,” I say. “Props to him for getting in touch with his feelings like that. And the thing with his tears creating thorny vines sounds epic. When I cry, I just get a stuffy nose.” I’m being snarktastic, but Leelah doesn’t seem to notice. “So… if the king is there but asleep,” I emphasize the word, “who’s ruling Medela?”
“The tithe is collected and goes into the king's coffers for his advisors to distribute. He keeps the peace and the sanctity of our borders with his magic, and his soldiers.”