The Price {Completed}

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I collected one copper coin from the woman in charge, and then made my way out of the alleyway. I had to stop by the marketplace in order to buy some bread to sate the empty gnawing in my stomach, and I hurried in that direction. It was late, but market never really slept. Jobs and the army didn't keep regular time, and everyone was hungry enough to hang by the food vendors whenever they had a spare bit of time.

Orange puddles fell from the few lamps allowed to burn during the night in the market. Fuel was precious, and only the most necessary of lamps were ever burning the dark away. I dodged these circles of light, aiming for the back wall where the blackmarket men sold their moldy crusts.

With my chin down and my hands in my pockets, I was confident that no one would even notice me as I cut through the crowds-- yet a hand landed on my shoulder. I startled and tried to duck away, but the hand held tightly. Whoever it was began to steer me toward a dark alley and I wished I had saved my money to buy a knife off a peddler. I struggled to stand still, knowing that no one would be able to see us in the alley. Not that anyone would do much even if I were being killed in front of their eyes, but perhaps my assailant would grow discouraged if I fought.

When I dug my heels in and wouldn't budge anymore toward the alley, I felt the person behind me lean in. Warm breath stirred the tendrils of hair that stuck out from under my scarf, and I heard a soft voice in my ear.

"Nadia, it's me."

My heart slammed against my ribs. "Ferdinand?" I choked out, wanting to spin around right then and see if this truly was him. His hand kept me still, though, and pushed me toward the alley again. I walked this time, wanting to get where I could see his face.

As the shadows hid us from the view on the road, his hand left my shoulder and I spun to see him staring at me. Before even really taking him in, I threw my arms around his neck and began to sob into his neck. He was really here, really standing by my side and not laying dead in some field of corpses like all the others. My knees gave way and he had to hold me up until I could find my strength again.

I pulled back and kissed him hard and long, wrapping my hands in his jacket. When we finally had to break apart to breathe, I wiped my tears from his cheek and cradled his head between my hands. My tears took with them some of the grime that was caked so heavily into his skin.

Now that I properly looked at him, I found it hard to recognize him. His cheeks sunk in and dark bruises of sleepless nights covered his eyes. His lips were scabbed and chapped, and multiple nicks and scratches covered his entire face. He bore a beard, and his hair was long and greasy. He looked years older, and so gaunt that I wondered if he'd eaten anything recently. His clothes were tattered and coated in mud, the hem of his jacket soaking wet from the snow. It was not the uniform of a foot soldier in the Vigilant Men's army.

"How did you-" I asked, smiling and laughing and crying all at once. "I-" The words wouldn't come so I kissed him again until my lips hurt.

He pulled me away so he could see me. "I can't stay long," he said, his eyes darting to the road way where people were passing by only feet away. "It's too dangerous here."

"Dangerous?" I asked, my hands gripping his collar as I stared at that face I'd missed so much. "What's going on?"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, his hands shaking just slightly. As his jacket lifted with the motion, I noticed a gun tucked away in his belt under her jacket. It, also, wasn't the kind given to soldiers.

"I've spent weeks looking for you everywhere," he said. "The Wellington was gone, and no one I could find even knew who you were. I thought you were... dead for a few days. But then I saw Rachel on the field and she said that you were still here."