Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

He hated to leave her, but most people held the belief that black wolves were evil—much the same as they felt about him. He scowled. They didn’t know evil like he did.

He nudged Niton forward again and followed Rayad into Kinnim. They passed the first humble dwellings and shops to find the dirt streets deserted, but commotion drifted from the center of town.

Rayad slowed to let Jace come alongside him. “I bet there’s a market today. We’ll head to Laytan’s first since it’s on the way and see if he has everything on Aldor’s list.”

They followed the dusty and rutted main street to the mercantile, one of the largest businesses in Kinnim. Jace glanced up at the sign over the front overhang. Someone had freshly painted it with crisp white and red letters since his last visit. At the hitching post out front, they tied the horses and stepped up onto the boardwalk. Through the already open door, a mixed
aroma of spices, leather, and other dry goods greeted them. A stout man with dark hair and a thick beard emerged from the back storeroom as they stepped farther inside. He wiped his large hands on his canvas work apron and eyed his customers.

“Rayad.” His gruff voice carried a tone of surprise, and his eyes landed briefly on Jace with a guarded expression. “Can I help you?”

“Just need to find a few things for Kalli and Aldor,” Rayad told him.

He turned to browse the shelves, and Jace steeled himself to approach the counter. Laytan watched him as one might follow the movements of a rabid dog. Jace reconsidered for a moment, but wouldn’t give in to the intimidation.
He had as much right to be here and do business as anyone. Reaching into the leather pouch on his belt, he withdrew the pickerin tusks and laid them on the counter.

“I want to sell these.”

The other man glanced down, though not enough to inspect the tusks fully. Hard expression never changing, he mumbled, “I’ll give you ten for them.”

Jace shifted his jaw and spoke coolly. “That’s what you gave me last time. These are bigger and worth more.”

The shopkeeper grumbled. Jace wouldn’t put it past him to refuse, but he finally said, “I’ll give you twenty.”

Jace accepted with a nod, ready to take the money and leave. Better to wait for Rayad with the horses than stand around here with Laytan glowering at him as if he
should be locked up somewhere. The man fished the money from his cash box and dropped the coins into Jace’s hand. As he deposited them into his pouch, a second person entered from the storeroom.

“Jace!” a musically feminine voice exclaimed.

Both he and Laytan looked up as the shopkeeper’s daughter, Rebekah, joined them at the counter. She smiled brightly at Jace, her honey-blonde hair braided away from her face. Her vivid blue eyes caught on the tusks and widened.

“Oh my. When did you get those?”

Jace shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His throat suddenly lacked moisture. “Yesterday.”

As comforting as he found Kalli’s presence, younger women made him uneasy. Especially Rebekah. She possessed all the best and kindest qualities in Kinnim. Her presence always turned his thoughts to a near useless jumble, and he hated the loss of composure.

Eyes still wide and gazing up at him, she said, “He must have been huge.”

Jace shrugged and stared down at the tusks instead of her face. “He was good-sized.”

He glanced up, and Rebekah’s eyes twinkled with a grin. A moment of silence hung between them.

Laytan cleared his throat and practically growled, “Rebekah, have you finished the inventory?”

“Yes, Father,” she answered with a smile still tingeing her voice.

“Well, why don’t you check the new stock?”

“Then may I go to the market?”

Laytan hesitated. “Fine.”

Rebekah’s grin blossomed again, and she kissed her father on the cheek. Just before turning to leave, she smiled once more at Jace. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

She disappeared into the back and left a death-knell silence behind. Jace cast a reluctant glance at Laytan. The man’s eyes narrowed to a thin warning line, and Jace didn’t doubt the
threat behind them. Luckily, Rayad chose that moment to approach the counter with an armful of supplies, breaking the tension. Laytan gave Jace one more razor glare before turning to his business. As much as the desire to leave pulled at him, Jace stood his ground.

When they finished the transaction, Rayad bid Laytan a good day, and Jace followed him outside. Laytan’s scowl burned into his back on the way out the door. This was exactly why he always stayed at the farm. No matter what Rayad told him, getting out never did any good for anyone, least of all him.

While Rayad stuffed the supplies into his saddlebags, Jace ran his hand down Niton’s neck, soothed by the motion. The horse turned his head, no longer the ill-tempered beast Jace had first met, and breathed into his shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” Rayad said, drawing Jace’s attention. “You know how protective he is of Rebekah and leery of anything even remotely out of the ordinary.”

Out of the ordinary. That summed Jace up perfectly. He supposed he would be leery too in Laytan’s position—just a normal man with purely human blood and a pretty daughter.

“I’ll take Aros and Niton to the blacksmith,” Rayad went on. “Do you want to meet me at the market?”

Jace shrugged. “I can.” The forest beckoned with its promise of seclusion and peace, but maybe he could find a small gift to bring home to Kalli. She rarely came into town. He handed Niton’s reins over to Rayad.

“Keep your ears open for any pertinent news,” Rayad instructed him.

Jace nodded. If he could do anything, it was listen and observe, and people always had plenty to say. Those aware of his mixed blood seemed to think he wouldn’t understand their whispers, or didn’t realize he could hear better than full-blood humans.

They parted ways, and Jace followed the main street to the center of Kinnim. In the large, open square, dozens of carts and stalls displayed a variety of wares. Their colorful banners and awnings fluttered in the breeze, which carried the familiar scent of linen and fruit as well as less recognizable foods and spices. Most of the townspeople gathered here to browse or visit with friends. Laughter carried from all corners of the square, but Jace’s unease remained. Laughter didn’t necessarily mean kind people.

At the edge, he stopped to watch for several minutes and contemplated whether or not it was even worth it. His lungs had trouble expanding all the way. Though this market paled in comparison to some he’d witnessed, the sights and sounds served up many unpleasant memories. Such social gatherings had always boded ill for him.

He shuddered, mouth dry again, as the recollections of those days flooded his mind. Before turning him into a gladiator, Jasper had taken great pleasure in chaining him up and charging people to take a swing at him.
“The only time you’ll ever have a fair chance at taking on a ryrik,”
he would say. No one cared that Jace was only half ryrik and barely more than a boy. They’d paid well.

Jace curled his fists and shook away the painful memories and Jasper’s haunting sneer. He could only hope the man had gone out of business. He never had been wise with his money, risking large amounts on certain gladiators he thought could win him a fortune, like Jace.

With a deep breath, he pushed himself to join the crowd. He made his way to each stall and ignored the obnoxious vendors bent on hawking their wares to anyone they could. Most fell silent once they noticed something odd about him. He might have appeared human, but he hadn’t met anyone yet who didn’t grow suspicious when they took a closer look. Usually, it took little more than a glimpse of his eyes.

A half an hour after he arrived, light footsteps approached. He ignored them, expecting another shopper to bypass him, but a voice startled him.

“Finding anything?”

He spun around to meet Rebekah’s smiling face. His heart gave a nervous thud.

“No. Not really.” His gaze swept the area for anyone else who may have joined her, like her father, but the market appeared clear of danger. For now. “I thought you were busy at the shop.”

Rebekah chuckled lightly. Besides Kalli, Jace had never met someone so cheerful all the time.

“There wasn’t much more to do.” She inclined her head. “Come on.”

She walked off to the next stall filled with painted and glazed pottery. He followed hesitantly, his eyes darting around the square again. A couple of people had stopped to stare at them. He turned his face away from their scrutiny, but couldn’t shake the feel of it wrapping around him.

When he caught up to Rebekah, he lowered his voice. “I don’t think your father would approve.” Or anyone in this town.

Rebekah shrugged and smiled up at him. “He still likes to believe I’m just a little girl. But he does trust my judgment, and I know I’m safe.”

Jace stared at her. How did she know that? Foolish considering she knew nothing about his past.

She too took notice of the onlookers peering at them, but boldly turned back to him as if they were the only two present. He had to admire her confidence and disregard for their disapproval.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

Jace cleared his throat, debating. He really should leave. The last thing he wanted was to muddy her reputation, and if word got back to Laytan, things could get ugly. Someone could be on
their way to the mercantile right now, but how did he walk away without being rude?

“I thought I’d look for something for Kalli.”

“How are Kalli and Aldor? They always seem like such a sweet couple.”

Jace hesitated. How could she be so calm? Every sense warned him to watch his back. “Yes, they are
…and they’re doing well.”

They came to a cart spread out with all manner of beaded jewelry.

“What does Kalli like?”

Jace shrugged as he watched her pick up a necklace to admire. “She and Aldor live simply, but I thought I’d surprise her with something out of the ordinary.”

Rebekah gave another joyful and musical chuckle, which was surprisingly soothing to his nerves. “Well, the market is the perfect place to find such things.”

For the next few minutes, he followed her from stall to stall. It was incredible how she so easily conversed with everyone—even with the more insistent merchants. She always spoke kindly and with a smile, but deftly avoided
being sweet-talked into any purchases. It revealed an inner strength and cleverness amidst the sweet innocence. Though his gut still threatened to tie itself in knots, Jace found that she
almost
made this market experience enjoyable. Her abundant joy was contagious, and she managed to pull more than one smile from his set expression—quite a feat for anyone besides Kalli.

Just when he lowered his guard enough to relax, a grating voice sent tension knotting across his shoulders.

“Look what the excitement dragged into town.”

Jace ground his teeth together and turned. He should never have stopped watching his back. Wrong move on his part.

Flanked by two of his smug-faced friends, a red-haired young man smirked at him, his eyes harboring all sorts of ill will. Jace barely bit back a sharp retort, but the other man’s smirk only grew at his silence. He peered around Jace.

“Rebekah, what are you doing with this
…” He glanced back to Jace and turned up his wide nose. “…half-blood?”

Jace balled his fists. Warmth seeped down his arms and into his muscles, pulsing with the preparation for a fight, but he struggled to still it.

Rebekah came to his side, her face set in a frown that looked entirely out of place. “Stop it, Morden.”

He gave her a condescending little grin. “Why don’t you run along? We’ve got business here.” The grin stretched wider. “I’ll gladly come find you later.”

Rebekah put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jace beat her to it.

“A gentleman would treat a lady with more consideration.”

Morden snorted. “And what would you know about that?”

A blaze erupted inside that Jace struggled to contain. He breathed in hard, cursing the impulses he had to battle so often. He couldn’t let it take control of him.
Not again.

“Come on, Jace, we still have to find something for Kalli.” Rebekah’s soft voice quieted his growing agitation, and she tugged lightly on his stiff arm.

His blood still burned hot in his veins, calling him to action, and was almost too strong to resist. He thought of Rayad, who told him time and again to go to Elôm when he struggled like this. He forced himself to turn away from Morden and whispered silently, “Elôm, I need help.”

But Morden, who must have caught the movement of his lips just before he turned completely, let out an incredulous laugh. “Are you praying?”

Jace froze. His heart thundered.

“Who could you be praying to? Don’t you know? Animals like you have no soul.”

An evil pang of doubt knifed through Jace’s heart, colder and more painful than the steel of any dagger, robbing the breath from his lungs. His eyes settled on Rebekah’s face, but it was her pitying expression that caused the weak grip on his emotions to fail. Heat flared in his muscles. He spun around and smashed his fist into the side of Morden’s jaw, sending the man reeling. Regret followed, but it was too late. Morden’s friends caught him by the arms and steadied him as he shook his head to clear his vision.