Elevation of the Marked (The Marked Series Book 2) by March McCarron Read Free Book Online Page B

face covered in freckles. His mouth hung open at the sight of Yarrow. A few more faces appeared, all equally thunderstruck.  
    “Yarrow?” A pretty young woman budged her way through the crowd of children. “Is it really you?” She threw herself into Yarrow’s arms and he picked her up and spun her in a circle.  
    “Ree,” he said, a smile in his voice.
    Bray felt rather like an interloper and took a half-step in retreat. Yarrow caught her by the elbow and brought her forward. “Ree, this is Bray Marron.”
    Bray shook hands with the young woman, who looked very much like Yarrow, though softer through the face and with brown eyes rather than gray. “Very nice to meet you,” Ree said. “Come in, both of you, come in.”
    They crossed the threshold. Bray smiled as she scanned the space. Yarrow’s childhood home was so exactly as she had imagined: well-worn, with tattered furniture, wallpaper beginning to peel at the corners, every surface cluttered with the effects of so many residents; yet full of sunlight, smelling of cinnamon, charged with that certain warming ambience that lingers in the spaces where familial love lives.  
    A young man pulled Yarrow into a hug, thumping his back with brotherly affection.  
    “Allon,” Yarrow said, laughing. “It’s good to see you.”
    Bray understood why the little girl had mistaken one brother for the other—Allon, though a touch shorter than Yarrow, looked uncannily similar. He had the same color eyes, the same sharp bone structure. Only, his smile and expression held a certain roguishness that Yarrow’s never would.
    “Ma,” Ree called. “You’re gonna want to see this.”
    A tall, slim woman with dark hair heavily streaked with silver appeared, an apron round her waist and a dishtowel in wet hands. “See what, dear?”
    The towel thumped wetly to the floor.  
    “Yarrow?” the woman asked in a whisper, her hand fluttering to her chest.
    Her long-lost son stepped forward. “It’s me, Ma.”
    “My Yarrow,” she cried and threw her arms around him, pulling his head down to her shoulder. “My son,” she said between great sobs. “My son.”  
    Yarrow’s cheeks shone with tears. He patted his mother’s back. “I’ve come home, Ma.” He swallowed. “I’ve come home.”

    Ko-Jin sensed the eyes of the town upon him. It was almost certainly his imagination, but their gazes felt hostile. He and his two companions weren’t precisely inconspicuous. Their clothes—in his case distinctive Cosanta robes, in theirs courtly finery—were ripped and bloody.  
    The stitches in his side tugged with each step and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He wished he were with Yarrow and Bray, regretted having suggested this arrangement. He could sense the accusation in the stiff silence of the two figures striding before him. He had failed, and their mother had died for it.  
    Jo-Kwan stepped back to walk beside him and whispered, “Have you noticed the staring?”
    Ko-Jin nodded. “Can’t imagine small towns like these see a lot of royalty.”  
    “They appear more interested in you than us.”  
    Ko-Jin was about to protest this when he noticed an older gentleman on the sidewalk holding a newspaper. He peeked up at Ko-Jin, back down at the paper, and up again. His face paled, eyes widened, and he took a step back.
    As Ko-Jin glanced around, he saw more evidence of unease. Why would they fear a Cosanta?  
    “I believe we should get our information and be gone,” Chae-Na said, her brow puckered and arms crossed before her. “This place is unnerving me.”
    “Agreed and seconded,” Ko-Jin said. He pointed up the road. “There it is.”
    The Glans Heath Constable’s Office, an old brick-faced building, held a kind of stark menace in contrast to the white-washed shops surrounding it.  
    They mounted a worn, wooden stairway and entered with caution, but the hinges squealed loudly, announcing their arrival. Within, several men bent over a desk, deep