Serenya's POV
A shock of ice water runs through me.
I freeze with one foot still raised, ready to step onto the plaza sidewalk. That voice is sharp, gravelly, and instantly recognizable.
“Serenya.”
I turn quickly, scanning the crowded marketplace entrance. She is standing barely two feet behind me, blending perfectly with a display of wooden masks. It is the old woman, the vendor from the alley.
She looks thinner, somehow, her movements slower than the last time I saw her. Her eyes, though, are still unnervingly bright and focused entirely on me. She doesn't wait for a response. She grips my elbow, her fingers surprisingly strong, and pulls me back into the shadows of a deserted corner between two shuttered kiosks.
“You rush,” she hisses, leaning close. “You are impatient, and you a
