Chapter 2 – Masks and Mischief
1043 Words
Steel hissed.
William had already pulled out his sword when the first masked attacker jumped at him, a bright silver light shining from his hand like glowing fire. Emma stepped back in shock, lifting her hands without thinking. Magic tingled at her fingertips. She hadn’t used magic in a long time—but her body still remembered how.
“Stay close,” William barked, parrying a strike that sent sparks skittering off stone.
“Don’t order me around!” she snapped, unleashing a flash of flame that made two attackers stumble. The heat seared her palms, fierce and unrestrained, but gods—it felt good.
William chuckled, twisting around her to drive his boot into another assailant’s chest. “And here I thought you’d gone soft mixing herbs.”
“Shut up and fight!”
The tannery burst into wild confusion. Dark shapes moved everywhere, and the intruders' shiny swords swung through the air. Emma’s fire sparkled and snapped, a little too wild to feel safe. William fought smoothly and quickly, like someone trained to be a fighter, hitting with every move.
For one terrifying moment, Emma faltered. Magic surged hotter than intended, fire licking too close to William ’s shoulder.
“Careful, little mouse,” he teased breathlessly, even as he ducked a blow. “You’ll singe me.”
“Maybe I meant to,” she retorted, though guilt prickled sharp.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the fight broke. The masked figures withdrew—not defeated, but retreating, melting into shadows as if called by some unseen signal. Within seconds, silence claimed the tannery once more.
Emma’s chest heaved. The room stank of smoke and sweat, her palms burned, and William was watching her with that storm-gray stare she hated.
“What?” she demanded.
“You’ve been holding back,” he said softly. “All these years.”
Her throat tightened. “I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
The unspoken accusation lingered—you chose not to trust me. She looked away, furious at the ache that still flared where his words touched old scars.
William sheathed his sword with maddening calm. “We should move. If those weren’t wardens, someone worse is hunting us. And trust me, sweetheart, they’ll be back.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What? Sweetheart?” His grin curved like the blade at his hip. “You’re cute when you’re furious.”
Emma resisted the urge to throw fire at his smug face. “Where exactly do you suggest we go, oh reckless one?”
His answer was too casual. “The Masked Market.”
She blinked. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I joke?”
“Yes. Constantly.”
That earned her another grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. He was serious. Dead serious.
The Masked Market wasn’t a place people like her visited. Whispers painted it as a den of thieves, smugglers, and exiled mages—half rumor, half nightmare. If wardens patrolled Halewick’s streets, the Market was the underworld where even wardens feared to tread.
Emma’s stomach knotted. “If the king’s guard catches us there—”
“Better them than whoever wears silver fire on their hands.”
She hated that he had a point.
UThe trip to the Market was a rush of close calls and sneaky paths. William somehow knew every hidden alley and rooftop, and Emma didn’t like having to depend on him. By the time they got to the secret archway that led to the Market, she was completely on edge. Two guards stood there wearing creepy masks—one looked like a grinning wolf, the other like a creepy clown. As they walked up, the wolf-mask asked, “Password?”
William didn’t hesitate. “Blackbird sings at dusk.”
The guards stepped aside, and Emma gave him a sharp look. “You’ve been here before.”
“More than once,” he admitted, ushering her inside. “Try to look less shocked. And less pure.”
“I am pure,” she snapped.
His grin was wicked. “Debatable.”
Her face burned, and she cursed him silently for it.
---
The Market was chaos incarnate.
Imagine a bunch of colorful lanterns hanging from random stalls, lighting up tables piled with weird stuff like magic potions and charmed weapons. Sellers wearing masks were trying to sell all sorts of forbidden goods, shouting over each other to get people's attention. Music was playing somewhere in the background, mixed with people laughing and yelling while they played dice.Emma tried not to gawk. She failed.
“This place is…”
“Glorious?” William supplied.
“Illegal,” she corrected.
“Details.”
Before she could retort, a masked woman slithered up, draped in silks too fine for this place. Her mask was a golden fox, jeweled at the eyes.
“William ,” the woman purred. “You bring a new toy?”
Emma bristled. “Excuse me?”
William , damn him, smirked. “Play nice, sophia. She bites.”
Emma’s cheeks flamed. “I do not—”
“—unless asked nicely,” William cut in smoothly.
Her palm sparked with dangerous heat.
sophia laughed, tossing her jeweled mask back in delight. “Oh, I like her. Careful, William , this one might actually kill you.”
“That’s the fun,” he said without missing a beat.
Emma wanted the ground to swallow her whole. Or maybe to swallow him.
But as they moved deeper into the Market, past flickering lanterns and shadowed corners, her annoyance was edged with something sharper: unease. The Market was dangerous, yes—but it also thrummed with the same strange energy she’d felt when the silver fire first cracked across the sky.
And when she glanced at William , she saw it on his face too. He felt it.
Something—or someone—was watching.
And as much as she loathed admitting it, she was glad he was beside her when the danger revealed itself.
Because enemies or not, Emma suspected the Masked Market would test them both in ways they weren’t ready for.
Enemies, allies, or something far more treacherous.
- Writer
