The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 29

The dust flies up around me when I land, scratching and choking. I pull my scarf up over my face and walk blindly, my thoughts wrapped up in what has just transpired.

Edmun is dead. I brush angrily at my eyes, shoving away the feeling of loss and blaming the surging sand for the moisture clouding my vision. These last few weeks have wreaked havoc on my world, the ground below my feet no longer solid. For the first time in many weeks, I crave my old, simple life tucked away in the attic, scoring small-time purses and annoying the Palace guards.

As I stumble toward the market, someone suddenly emerges from a side street and places their hand on my shoulder. I let out a gasp of surprise and turn instinctively, slamming my elbow up into my attacker's chin.

"Gods damn it," a familiar voice shouts in pain.

My eyes widen and I straighten out of my fighting stance, cautiously regarding the tall figure hunched over in front of me.

"Marc?" I ask.

"Who did you think it was?" He straightens, rubbing his chin.

"I'm so sorry! You snuck up on me." I incline my head to examine his jaw, wincing when I see that the skin has already started to redden. "I really got you good, huh?"

"I'd hate to see what you'd do to someone you really had a problem with." He offers me a small grin of forgiveness. "Since I owe you a favour, I supposed I could give you a free pass on this one."

"I appreciate it. I really am sorry—I didn't even recognize you."

It's true: Marc looks entirely different from the man I found in the gaol. His dark hair is actually a sandy blond, light and flying about his head in the dusty wind. Clean of grime and freshly shaved, his olive skin is clear, with a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

"I suppose I wasn't really looking my best when you last saw me." He chuckles. "It's a wonder what some sunshine and a hundred baths will do for a body."

"So you're doing well?" I ask, studying him closely.

"Better than well. Every day I'm free of that place, I thank my lucky stars." One hand moves to push the hair back from his face.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"What are you doing out here?" he asks.

At the question, I start, brought abruptly back to the present and the fight with Lara.

Something must have shown on my face because Marc frowns and his brows knit together in concern. "Whatever it is, it can't be good. How about I buy you some lunch and you can catch me up?"

"Oh," I say, surprised at the offer. "That's really kind of you, but I don't want to be a bother. You were probably on your way somewhere..."

"It's fine. I don't have to be anywhere important. After everything you've done for me, getting you a meal would be the least I can do." He inclines his head down the street, indicating that I follow him.

"All right," I agree. I don't really feel up to being by myself and besides, Marc could prove to be a valuable asset in Will's rebellion. "Let's go."

He leads me to a small shop and purchases us two portions of smoked meat and ale, waving off my offer of payment. We take our meals to a table in the corner and settle in, chewing and drinking in companionable silence.

"So." Marc has polished off his food and is hunched conspiratorially over the small table. "What's going on?"

I pause, unsure of how to begin. I nearly spill the details of what transpired between myself and Lara but, instead I swallow what's left of my lunch and lean in toward him. "We're starting a rebellion," I say, bluntly.