Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

5: Outlaw

She was invisible. And although she was a creature born for velvet and gold, for the weight of a crown, she rather liked the feeling.

They wove through the crowd, their threadbare cloaks and hoods concealing them. They were ordinary citizens, villagers in the busy town, looking to trade or sell.

After a year away, being in one of Pelenu's towns took Delilah's breath from her. It was all achingly familiar: buildings of pale yellowish brick, hard-packed earth roads, flat roofs – the occasional important building carved from startlingly white stone, embellished with decorations and topped with domes made from red slate. Everyone was tan or olive-skinned, a lovely contrast to the pale Valians Delilah had been with, and she spotted baggy trousers and loose coats: traditional villager clothing. Even the air was a little warmer.

Delilah tipped back her head and breathed in the scent of spice and sugar, only half-following Dante who slipped through the crowd with purpose. She nearly stopped to head straight to a shadow puppet theatre currently entertaining a gang of barefoot children – the spiky designs beckoned her and brought back vivid childhood memories – but Dante turned and gave her a cold glare as if he knew exactly what she was doing.

With his stare, the icy air and pine scent of Vale seemed to roll over her again, and Delilah remembered they had business.

It would all be hers one day. All of it. And she would be able to enjoy it as much as she wanted. These pushing, shoving, shouting townspeople... they would be bowing to her soon.

Soon.

Delilah ducked under a few arms and even beneath the bellies of donkeys to reach Dante.

"You look like a child in a sweetshop."

She glared at him. "Hurry up so we can get back on the road."

"We are on a road."

"You know what I mean."

They'd followed the tunnel for an entire day, until their feet were cracked and bleeding and Delilah wondered if she'd gone blind. But then, as if the ancient creator of the tunnel had judged exactly when they would run out of supplies and lose their bearings, they came to a rough wooden ladder and a grate in the roof. They'd climbed out and into this town – Oddzo, Delilah remembered, one of the northern settlements – to replenish their stores.

Dante didn't move for a moment, his eyes lingering on her. Delilah raised an eyebrow at him, but all he did was yank her hood down so hard she wondered whether something in her neck had snapped. Her spine bent with the force of his hands.

"Cover your eyes. Too noticeable. And your hair."

Delilah growled under her breath as she double-checked her plaited hair was tucked well out of sight, but she did keep her head lowered while Dante found a market stall selling dried food for travel. He began to barter, and Delilah grew fidgety after a while and started to wander around. She spotted a noticeboard on the wall of the town hall, and couldn't resist sneaking away to peek at the papers pinned there.

The town was having a communal feast that weekend, in honour of Kāne, the god of the sky who was mostly worshipped in the south. A warm glow ignited in Delilah's chest, and she spotted a paranoid poster of supposed Peri sightings. She snorted. Those had been made by someone superstitious, then. The Peri were mythical creatures – winged fairies sometimes considered good, sometimes bad. They were in the grey. Like me, Delilah thought.

Someone jostled her, and she elbowed them back savagely without turning around. A coloured paper caught her eye.

Her jaw dropped. This one had been painted, with rough black brushstrokes as the outline and a splash of orange for the hair and eyes.