Her pulse was hammering against her ribs ... she could feel her heartbeat all the way in her ears. street corner screamed danger.
The market she’d once watched from her locked tower window was now unrecognizable ... loud, dirty, alive, and full of predators. But what froze her blood wasn’t the noise.
It was her own face staring back at her from a guard’s hand.
A sketch. Her sketch.
The details were horrifyingly accurate ... the same honey-brown hair, the sharp nose, those green eyes that looked like bottled stormlight.
“f**k,” she hissed.
She took one cautious step backward, but it was already too late. A passing vendor looked from her to the sketch, his brow furrowing. His lips parted, trembling.
“Hey...!”
Diva didn’t wait to hear the rest. She bolted.
Her bare feet slapped agai
