Imposter

Chapter 28

Katrina's skin crawled, a buzzing noise lingering in her ear. The longer the day went on, the louder the noise got.

Whoever was causing such a reaction couldn't have good intentions. No one with so much power could be anyone good.

"Oh! Pardon me, darling. I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention."

An electric shock went through Katrina's body, rendering her momentarily speechless.

A tall, regal lady with fiery red hair had knocked into her, causing her to drop her drink on the bar floor.

When she dragged her eyes up to meet the lady's turquoise ones, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end.

Here's the source of all my recent problems. Only she'd never seen her before in her entire life.

"Do you feel it?" the lady whispered conspiratorially. "The way our souls call out to each other?"

Katrina drew back. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't worry, darling." She winked at her. "I'll keep your dirty little secret if you keep mine."

"I'll buy you a new drink," one of the guys at the bar top offered when she walked back over.

Trying to still her shaking hands, she flashed him a smile. "Thanks, but I got it," she said.

"Did you know her?" he asked, jerking his thumb in the general direction of the strange woman. "I've never seen her around before."

"I've never seen her in my life," she muttered.

The woman did look familiar, though. There was something in the way she held herself, in the sharpness of her cheekbones. Her voice was familiar, too, with a light accent.

Katrina grabbed her new drink off the counter, walking away to sit down at Jericho's table.

Sticking a straw in her glass and swirling the ice cubes around, she took in his hunched shoulders and rumpled clothes.

He looked like a hot mess.

"What's wrong?" she asked, catching the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"That was her," he whispered, his fingers digging in the table. "She was the one who killed them."

Katrina spun around in her chair. "Where'd she go?"

"She was right there, by the doors—"

But the swinging doors were completely still, undisturbed, and the lady was nowhere in sight.

"We can't tell anyone she has magic," Katrina warned him, leaning across the table to rest her hand on his. "We have to hope she gets tired of Kor and leaves. If anyone confronts her—"

"She knew Mason," Jericho said, straightening. "He can't be far behind. Karel's probably home now—"

"Jer! Sit down." Katrina's heart fluttered in her chest. "We're not causing this lady to be the Larissa of our century."

Larissa, the sorceress who had turned on Terial and burned half of it to the ground. Maybe she had died in her own fire, or maybe she had fled.

Fled to live another day and burn another town.

"What if she is Larissa?" Jericho asked, his voice low and sharp.

She was so powerful, the magic radiating off her body in waves. It left Katrina disconnected and disoriented.

Only an ancient sorceress could possibly send off that kind of energy, and Larissa had left her mark on Terial centuries ago.

Who knew how old she had been back then?

"Then that's all the more reason not to anger her," Katrina said quietly. "We won't stand a fighting chance."

"In a perfect world, she and Karel would both die in a face-off," Jericho muttered, slumping in his chair. "I want to take Vivi and leave Kor."

"What?"

"Would you go with us?" he asked, chewing on his bottom lip. "Please?"

Katrina shook her head slowly. "We won't have anywhere to go. We wouldn't last long until we're selling ourselves."

While her family wasn't quite as poor as Jericho's, they had never been rich.

"We'll find jobs," he said, a muscle flexing in his jaw. "We can do it."

Katrina sighed. "Find jobs doing what?"

Her mother had tried to teach her the trade of sewing, but Katrina found she tired of it quickly, and it wasn't something she wanted to do for coin.

In the past, she occasionally made extra coin teaching the children of Kor how to read or write. But they learned quickly and it was never hard work, so it was difficult to make an income from such trifle things.

In bigger towns and cities, they often had academies that taught other things—like woodworking or painting, sewing or baking. Others taught you to be a successful farmer, how to train horses. There was a wide variety of things to be learned to rake in an income, whether it be big or small.

The academies were typically for the ones who were already rich—or at least, already had enough saved up for it.

People drifted from one trade to another, switching out their livelihood once they had lived long enough to get rid of their current passion.

"Baal has the largest trading centers in all of Intelia," Jericho said. "I could learn something. Dad used to teach me his little tricks. I haven't carved anything in years, but I remember."

Katrina tilted her head.

"And it has the most farmlands," he added in. "If woodwork doesn't work out, I could get a job on a farm."

"Really?"

He flashed her a weak smile. "I always wanted my own farm," he told her. "I kind of miss it."

Before the death of Viviane's son, before his father left them, Jericho's family used to raise sheep. A few chickens were thrown in the mix, along with a milk cow and a goat.

"Baal is also accepting of magic," Katrina said softly. "Your hatred won't be welcome there."

His expression clouded. "So I'll keep quiet."

"Could you do that?" she asked. "When you're face-to-face with a magicker? Magic is treated differently there, Jericho. You'll be the bad guy."

He downed the last of his beer, setting his mug down with a grimace. "I have to get Vivi out of here," he told her. "If that woman is Larissa, I'm not letting Viviane get hurt in the crossfire of whatever she's planning."