Before long, James was out of the range of the crowd, deep into the stone alleys splintering off the center of town. No one had followed him in his hasty retreat from the accusations and spoiled fruit. Carefully, he wiped the foul-smelling remnants of an apple from his shoulder, staring up at the darkening sky. James leaned against the stone wall, unsure which building this was, the cool of it soaking into his sweat-drenched back.

  Boots thudded against stone down the alley, and James squared his shoulders, ready to fight or to flee; he wouldn't fight any of the towns folk, but if the attacker had come back, he was ready. But it was neither. Max ducked into the same alley, a wide grin across his face as he slowed and took up the wall next to James.

  "Well, at least we know why everyone is against you." Max pulled the small firestarter from his pocket, flicking it open and shut. The small flames' light cast deep shadows on his friend's face. "So, are we gonna talk about it?"

  "About what?" James spat, kicking at the ground.

  "This sudden need to be a hero." Max stared at the firestarter. The silence grew between them as the city settled down for the evening. The screams and babble of children playing faded as their mother called them in for dinner. Shop owners called out that they were closing up, the drone of carts and work animals softening to a soft murmur, and neither spoke. James kicked at the ground, digging a small grove with the toe of his boot before letting out a long sigh.

  "I thought things would be different after last year. People were so happy when the storm ended. Before the Bishop showed up, it was like it was before." He watched his friend from the corner of his eye, looking for any sign of understanding. "You know, like when we were a family, I don't. I had hoped we'd go back to that."

  "I guess. But dat ain't how the world works. Ser Edwin taught us that." Max put his hands into his coat pockets. Resting the back of his head against the wall. "Bishop or no, we fought a god, kinda. Then came back to a town drowning in muck and mud. We did what we could, but people here don't trust magic, you know dat."

  "This is why I want to be a hero, to show them magic isn't bad. It's a tool like my sword or your spear." James pushed off the wall, putting himself in front of Max.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  "You're acting like a kid. Heroes aren't real, James. You know that." Max drew himself up to his full height, copper hair catching the first rays of the moon. The words slammed into James like a hammer. He bit back a retort; it wouldn't do either of them good right now. "Look, I want to go after my sister because it's the right thing to do, but I don't want to be a hero."

  "I just want people to not hate me." James all but whispered, meeting Max's eyes. James was nearly a head shorter than Max these days but broader in the shoulders and arms. He squared up to his friend, trying his best to stand tall the way Ser Edwin did, making it seem like everything was small in comparison. "I want to do what is right, like Ser Edwin taught us."

  "Good, then let's do that." Max shoved James in the chest, causing him to stumble back. Both men laughed a genuine thing as the bluster and seriousness of the moment broke around them. "Now, let's get home. We got packing to do."

  "What about the supplies."

  "Already taken care of." Max kicked at a heavy linen pack James hadn't seen, "Mister Dai, let me buy the stuff after you ran away from da crowd. He seemed pretty shaken up about da whole thing."

  James shook his head, his smile wavering. "I hope he won't get in trouble for helping us."

  "Doubt he will, no one saw. Plus, if he does, that old man is craftier than an owl-hawk. I'm sure he'd get out of it." Max grinned, pinching his nose, "You know, ya kinda stink."

  "Shut it!" James shoved Max, nearly knocking the pack from his shoulder.

  The moon felt good against James' back. Even when it was a waning moon like tonight, his power swelled inside him like a reservoir refilling in a storm. He sucked in a deep breath, the air cool in his lungs, the sweet smell of the river calming as they crossed the bridge out of town. James had just started to look forward to his bath when the crunch of a boot drew his attention to the side of the road. In a fluid motion, he drew his sword and pulled on his power; at the same time, Max's amethyst eye flared, and flames jumped to life in his hand.

  "Whoa there, Red, when did you learn that trick?" Nera stepped from the shadows, dark cloak swirling around her, white eyes squinting against the sudden light. She pushed the tip of James' sword with her finger, a smile tugging at her lips. "Miss me, Silver?"

  "Nera." James sheathed his sword and ran to hug the blond woman. She put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Her expression darkened for a heartbeat before a wide smile broke across her face, and she wiggled her nose.

  With the sound of her sucking on her teeth, she looked up and down the road. "Not here. It can wait. You smell like pig muck. Red, mind putting out the light? We don't want Big and Smashy to find us and start the fight up again."

  "Shoot sorry." Max squeezed his hand shut, and the fire disappeared as he ran over and gave her a hug. This time, she returned it, but her eyes never left James.

  "Thanks for pulling me out back there." James' stomach tightened. She led me right to you. The line replayed over and over in his head. "What is it, Silver?"

  "Nothing. Let's get back to the forge. I could really use that bath," James said, trying to cover his unease with quick talk, but Nera raised a single eyebrow.

  "If you say so, lead the way." She pointed up the road, and James set off at a brisk pace, not wanting to let his mind dwell too long on the thought that maybe Nera wasn't his friend after all.