Xandra

I pull my hood lower over my face and barely resist the urge to pick at the effects of the only potion Vedran was able to send us with—two bitter sips, choked down in the heartbeat between when Hana, a woman I remember vaguely from around the palace, knocked on the door and when she opened it, painted half my face with a grisly scar. Everyone who looked at us knew Finn wasn’t from here, knew he was likely associated with Dun’s Crossing, but they would not recognize him.

Me, however?

My stomach threatens to crawl out of my throat and heave itself onto the floor. I keep seeing...