Devvyn wasn't sure where he was going. He just needed to walk. To move. Maybe if he walked long enough, he'd stop thinking about how easily Isadora had brushed him off and maybe the guilt twisting in his gut would ease. He tried not to think about how disappointed Maelis and his friends would be when he told them what happened.
At some point, the noise of the street began to soften. The shouts of vendors, horse hooves clobbing the ground, and the cloying smell of Mana gas faded away. When he finally stopped moving and looked up, he was standing at the front steps of the Great Museum of Sinai. He'd only ever been inside once—Maelis had brought him when he was ten. He remembered pressing his nose to the glass cases, eyes wide as saucers at the sight of ancient tools from the time of the Primordials, blueprints, weapons, and a replica of the first Echo ever discovered.
The Museum was free to enter, and Devvyn wasn't sure where else to g,o so he started climbing up the front steps. But the moment he went to the entrance, a voice stopped him.
"Museum's closed for the day."
He turned to see a guard in a dark navy coat, leaning lazily against the wall. The guy didn't even seem to want to be there.
"Why?"
"Maintenance. Come back tomorrow." The guard shrugged. "Opens at ten."
He nodded but didn't move. Just stood there on the museum steps, jaw clenched, shoulders tight. He didn't want to go home. Not yet. He kicked at the edge of the stone step, the toe of his boot catching on a crack. A gust of wind tugged at his sleeves, and for a second, he just stood there like a statue, watching people pass. He felt strange, uneasy, and he couldn't exactly pinpoint why.
Then he remembered Maelis had given him money. He started walking again.
The confectionery was deep inside the city, past the towering spires of the Ascendants' Church. The bells tolled, signalling that it was time for their evening procession. Robed acolytes poured out of the church's courtyard, bringing with them the scent of incense. Devvyn wrinkled his nose at them and walked faster. He wasn't quite sure what to think of the Ascendants. They practically worshipped Echos with all their ritualised bonding ceremonies and processions and religious preaching. Sure, Echos were great but there was something fanatic about the Ascendants.
He went past the main market, where merchants were still packing up, their shouts quieter now, tired. The sun was already halfway down the sky, bleeding streaks of gold and shadow.
His legs hurts by the time he finally got to the confectionary. It was a small cozy building tucked between a bookstore and a boat shop.
Rose's Confectionery.
The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open. The smell of sugar and baked pastries embraced him like a warm hug. Devvyn inhaled deeply and smiled. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get rid of his sweet tooth. There were only two customers at the counter. Nice.
Inside Rose's Confectionery was…loud. Not in sound. It was almost pin-drop quiet inside—but in color. The walls were a bright, cheery pink. The ceiling, too. Even the floor had hints of pink tile peeking between rugs shaped like candy. The furniture—just four tiny seats and a pear-shaped table was a different shade of yellow—canary, mustard, and lemon. It hurt Devvyn's eyes just to look at it.
The other two customers left, and then it was just him. Behind the counter, Mrs. Rose, the owner, a plump blonde woman who called everyone sugar, was bent over a tray of what looked like caramel squares, her thick curls tied up in a turquoise wrap that clashed wildly with the rest of the shop.
She didn't look up. "One minute, sugar. I'll be right with you." Her voice was warm, sweet, just like her pastries.
Devvyn nodded, even though she hadn't looked at him, and stuffed his hands into his pockets to bring out the money. He watched Mrs. Rose slide the caramel squares into a neat box and tie it shut with a ribbon then slap a sticker on it. She wiped her hands on her apron, then finally looked up at Devvyn with a wide smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"Alright now," she said, resting her elbows on the counter. "What can I get you, sugar?"
"Um," Devvyn said as he leaned in closer to the showglass, "I want one cream doughnut, one cheesecake puff and five sticky toffees. Do you have something that wouldn't hurt an older woman's teeth?"
"Sure honey. I've got mini date apple pies, honey puffs and pure mint gumdrops."
Devvyn thought about what Maelis would prefer. She did like to suck on ice while working. "Let me get the gumdrops." he counted how much he had with him then checked the price list on the wall. "I'll get five of those too. Thank you."
"Paper bag or a box?" She asked, "box costs an extra bronze mark."
"Box please."
"Ok," Mrs. Rose said, already reaching for a pastel pink plastic box from the shelf behind her. She plucked each item with care, arranging them in sections of the box as if she were placing flowers in a bouquet. "One cream doughnut, one cheesecake puff," she murmured, placing them side by side. "Five sticky toffees, and five mint gumdrops for your sweet older lady."
She snapped the lid shut with a satisfying click, slapped on a lilac sticker that read ROSE'S CONFECTIONERY – Made with Love, and slid the box across the counter toward him. "That'll be two silvers and eight bronze."
Devvyn handed the money he'd already calculated to her.
Mrs. Rose took the coins from his hand and dropped them into the little brass till behind the counter.
Then she looked up at him—really looked this time—her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as her head tilted. "Wait a minute…" she said slowly. Aren't you the one who saved Calder Pyrethorn?"
"Yes. is something wrong?" Devvyn said cautiously,
Mrs. Rose blinked in surprise, then laughed—a soft, warm chuckle that filled the shop. "Oh my, sugar! My stars, you are! I was there and it was such a sight." She reached for the pink box again, popped it open, and with a wink, added another cream doughnut. "On the house," she said with a proud smile. "Sinai needs more people like you. It's nice to know someone's still willing to do the right thing. Most folks just look the other way."
Grinning, Devvyn took his order. "Thank you ma'am."
"Come back anytime, sugar."
Devvyn stepped out of the confectionery, the pink door shutting behind him with a cheerful jingle. The box of sweets was warm in his hands. He felt lighter. Mrs.Rose was always a breath of fresh air. He turned down the street, heading back to the train station.
He hadn't gone more than a block when he heard hurried footsteps behind him.
"Hey!" a voice called.
Before he could turn, a hand slung over his shoulder, and another boy appeared in front of him, walking backwards with a grin stretched across his face.
"Well hello hero of the hour." The one with his hands on his shoulders said. "Must be nice, huh, rubbing shoulders with Calder Pyrethorn and pretty pretty Isadora."
Devvyn shrank away from him. "What do you want?"
"Relax." The other said and came to walk beside Devvyn. "I'm Owwyn, and that's Vance the third."
"Fourth." Vance the Fourth corrected. "And we need a favour from you. Just a little one."
A nervous smile appeared on Devvyn's face as he glanced at Vance's neck, then Owwyn. There, peeking just above the collar on both of them, were inked symbols. Faded, but unmistakable. A pair of crossed hooks for Vance the Fourth. A burning eye for Owwyn.
Gang marks.
Devvyn stiffened.
He shifted the box of sweets to one hand and subtly ducked out from under Vance's arm. It was all casual, like he just wanted more space, but inside, his gut twisted. He didn't need this kind of attention. Gangs in Sinai weren't a joke, even the high lords preferred not to antagonise them. And he knew those marks; they belonged to Vance the First, Sinai's biggest smuggler and drug lord. Mizuho's teeth.
"What's wrong?" Vance the Fourth asked, brows rising.
"Nothing," Devvyn said, forcing a tight smile. "Just tired." He didn't want to make a scene, but he also didn't want to be seen walking through the city with them. People noticed things like that. People assumed.
"You heading to the station?" Owwyn asked. "We'll walk with."
"I'm good," Devvyn replied quickly. "I've got a stop to make first."
Owwyn sighed and poked a finger in Devvyn's forehead, stopping him in his tracks. "Since you're going to be so difficult, I'll get straight to it. Boss wants something from you. We could do it the hard way and take you to him or you could just help us here. Your call."
"What…what does he…you want?" Devvyn's mind raced. He was only stalling with the question. His eyes darted around the street, trying to find an exit. It was a straight road down to the station, and if he ran that way, they would definitely catch up.
"You've been inside the Pyrethorn estate. Tell us everything you remember. Maybe a little sketch of the estate, you know. That's all, and you're free to go." Vance the Fourth said. He whipped out a pencil and paper from nowhere and squeezed it into Devvyn's free hand.
"Don't remember much of it," Devvyn mumbled. He imagined the Pyrethorn estate getting robbed right after he left. Calder Pyrethorn was no fool. He'd figure it out. And something told him he was better off facing the gang than the man's sword.
He had two options. He could try for the train station but the building to his left had a ladder and a flat roof. He was good at climbing and scaling roofs, if he got up there, then he'd loose them and find somewhere safe to hide. He groaned internally. Just when he thought the day could not get worse.
"Tell us what you remember then." Vance the Fourth pressed.
"It's nothing useful really." Devvyn collected the pencil from him.
Just then, a sharp crack split through the air, followed by angry curses. Two horse-drawn carriages veered into each other at the traffic light stop. One of the drivers cursed loudly, yanking the reins, while the other carriage screeched to a halt—the perfect distraction.
Devvyn didn't wait.
While Vance the Fourth and Owwyn turned toward the noise, Devvyn slipped from under Vance's weight and sprinted for the building. He leapt up, caught the bottom rung of the hanging ladder, and scrambled up before either boy could shout.
"Hey—!"
He didn't hear the rest. He hauled himself onto the flat roof, then turned and kicked the ladder hard. It clattered to the ground just as Owwyn lunged for it, nearly catching the bottom rung. He missed.
Devvyn didn't stop to gloat. He sprinted across the rooftop, weaving past rusted chimneys and broken vents, heart hammering in his chest. The box of sweets thudded under his arm with every step, slowing down his momentum, but he couldn't bring himself to toss it. He skidded to a stop behind a rusted vent, panting hard. The evening wind up here was cooler, sharp against the sweat on his neck. He crouched and peeked over the edge of the building.
He could see almost the entire city from here. Winding alleys, tightly packed rooftops, and narrow streets. Down below, the commotion from the carriages was still drawing attention, pulling more people in. No sign of Vance the Fourth or Owwyn yet.
He needed to move fast.
He spotted an alleyway. It cut between two buildings and fed straight into the train station. If he could get there, he'd be home free. But to reach it, he'd have to leap across to the next roof, then drop down from there. It wasn't a far jump—maybe six feet—but if he missed it…
Devvyn swallowed and edged closer to the lip of the roof. He eyed the distance, knees bent. His heart slammed against his ribs, but his legs already knew what to do. This wasn't the first time he'd run a rooftop.
He tightened his grip on the box.
"Alright," he said to himself. "Let's go."
He took a few steps back, then sprinted forward and jumped.
