Starlit Bargains (Tales from Thornhaven #1)

1. Marketplace Mishap

Chapter 1

Marketplace Mishap

K ai Everwood was one hundred percent certain that Silas had sent him on this errand just to get him out of the way. Not that he minded. Thornhaven had grown stifling over the past few weeks, with Thorne's endless lectures about responsibility and Silas's sudden obsession with organizing the entire workshop catalog. A shopping trip—even one that involved a half-day's journey to a village that technically wasn't supposed to exist—beat sorting through dusty spell books any day of the week.

The hidden village of Mistwood sprawled before him, a hodgepodge of crooked buildings and winding streets that seemed to have been designed by a drunk architect with a fondness for puzzles. Wooden structures leaned against each other like old friends sharing secrets, their weathered facades painted in fading colors that had once been vibrant. Strings of small, glowing orbs crisscrossed overhead, creating a canopy of soft light despite the afternoon sun.

Kai shifted the empty pack on his shoulder and grinned. The air smelled of spices, unfamiliar herbs, and something vaguely metallic that tickled the back of his throat. Magic, but different from the clean, disciplined energy that permeated Thornhaven. This was wild, untamed—a little dangerous, even. Perfect.

“Right,” he muttered to himself, unfolding the crumpled list from his pocket. “Dried moonflower petals, silver sage, witch hazel bark, and... what the hell is dragonsbane ash? Is Silas trying to poison someone?”

A group of children darted past him, giggling as they chased what looked like a small, translucent fox made of swirling mist. One of them bumped into Kai, nearly knocking him over.

“Sorry, mister!” the child called back without slowing down.

“Watch where you're running, or you might find yourself turned into a toad!” Kai shouted after them, his voice light with amusement. The children shrieked with delight at the empty threat and disappeared around a corner, the misty fox trailing ghostly blue wisps behind it.

Kai shook his head, still smiling. He'd bet his favorite dagger that not a single one of those kids was entirely human. Not that it mattered much in a place like this, where the boundary between the mundane and magical world was tissue-thin.

The marketplace occupied the center of the village, a sprawling, chaotic mass of stalls and tents arranged in concentric circles around a massive, gnarled oak tree whose branches stretched out like protective arms. Its leaves shimmered with an iridescent glow, reflecting light that didn't seem to come from the sun. Beneath it, vendors hawked their wares with enthusiasm that ranged from bored indifference to aggressive salesmanship.

Kai meandered through the crowd, stopping occasionally to examine curious trinkets or peculiar ingredients. He passed a stall selling what were allegedly “genuine phoenix feathers” (definitely dyed chicken feathers), another offering “mermaid tears” in tiny crystal vials (salt water with glitter, if he had to guess), and a third where a solemn-faced woman claimed to read fortunes using nothing but the pattern of freckles on your skin.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. This was exactly why he'd insisted on coming instead of Silas. His best friend was brilliant but frustratingly earnest—he'd have spent hours debating the ethical implications of fake phoenix feathers with the vendor instead of simply moving on.

After nearly an hour of searching, Kai finally spotted what he was looking for: a weathered tent at the edge of the marketplace, its canvas a faded purple adorned with silver symbols that seemed to shift when you weren't looking directly at them. The wooden sign hanging from the entrance post read “Madam Wisteria's Botanical Remedies” in elegant, flowing script.

Inside, the tent was larger than it appeared from the outside—a simple spatial expansion charm, nothing special but effectively done. Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars and pouches of varying sizes. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, filling the space with a heady mixture of scents. Behind a cluttered counter stood a small, hunched woman with iron-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, her sharp eyes following Kai's every move with undisguised suspicion.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone suggesting she'd prefer not to.

Kai flashed his most charming smile, the one that had talked him out of trouble more times than he could count. “I hope so. I need a few things for my... teacher.” The word felt strange on his tongue—Silas was his friend first, mentor second, and only technically his teacher when they both remembered it.

He handed over the list, watching as the woman—presumably Madam Wisteria herself—scrutinized it through a pair of small, round spectacles that perched precariously on her nose.

“Thornhaven,” she said, not a question but a statement, her eyes flicking up to study Kai with renewed interest. “That pretentious little prince sent you?”

“You make it sound so formal,” Kai replied with a laugh. “But yes, Is that a problem?”

She sniffed disapprovingly. “Not a problem. Just unusual. Your kind typically think you're too good for our little village.”

“My kind?” Kai raised an eyebrow, amusement tugging at his lips. “You mean devastatingly handsome wanderers with excellent taste in outerwear?” He gestured to his travel-worn cloak, which had definitely seen better days.

The ghost of a smile flickered across her face before she suppressed it. “Comedians, apparently.” She turned and began pulling items from various shelves, muttering under her breath as she went. “The silver sage is fresh in, harvested under the blue moon. That'll be extra.”

“Of course it will,” Kai muttered.

She shot him a sharp look. “You want quality or not, boy?”

“Quality would be nice. So would not having to sell my kidney to afford it.”

She slammed a jar of silvery leaves onto the counter. “Thirty silver pieces.”

Kai choked. “Excuse me? It's dried leaves, not liquid gold.”

“Blue moon harvest,” she repeated, as if that explained everything. “Once every three years. Take it or leave it.”

“Highway robbery is what it is,” Kai argued, leaning forward across the counter. “Fifteen, and I'll throw in a genuine smile of appreciation.”

“Twenty-five, and you can keep your appreciation.”

“Twenty, and I'll tell all my friends about your fair and reasonable prices.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don't have friends.”

Kai pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Madam, you wound me deeply. I'll have you know I have at least two friends, possibly three if you count the sprite who keeps stealing my breakfast pastries.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her face. “Twenty-two, and not a copper less.”

“Fine.” Kai sighed dramatically. “Twenty-two it is. Silas is going to have a fit.”

As Madam Wisteria gathered the rest of his items, Kai wandered around the small shop, examining the various containers that lined the shelves. Most were labeled, though some had nothing but strange symbols etched into their surfaces. His fingers hovered over a small, ornate box that seemed to hum with a subtle vibration.

“Don't touch that,” Madam Wisteria snapped without looking up.

Kai jerked his hand back. “I wasn't going to.”

“You absolutely were.” She shook her head. “Witches, always poking at things better left alone.”

“Not technically a witch,” Kai corrected automatically. It was a distinction he'd found himself making often. Witches were disciplined, studied, confident in their abilities. He was... well, whatever the opposite of that was. Someone who happened to be able to do magic sometimes, when it felt like cooperating.

“Could've fooled me,” she muttered, then called out the total. “That'll be seventy-eight silver for the lot.”

Kai winced, already imagining Silas's reaction. “Seriously? That's?—”

“Fair market value,” she interrupted firmly. “Take it or leave it.”

With a resigned sigh, Kai counted out the coins, silently cursing Silas for sending him on this particular errand. As Madam Wisteria packed his purchases into small paper parcels, he noticed a bundle of dried lavender on the counter, its purple stalks bound with a piece of twine.

“How much for the lavender?” he asked, suddenly remembering that Thorne had mentioned needing some for a sleeping draught.

“Three silver,” she replied, already reaching for it.

“Three silver for dead flowers? That's absurd.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Organic, ethically harvested, blessed under the full moon.”

“It's lavender,” Kai insisted. “It grows literally everywhere.”

“Fine. Two silver, and only because I want you out of my shop before you break something expensive.”

Kai grinned. “Deal.”

As she added the lavender to his package, Kai found himself fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve, a familiar restless energy building beneath his skin. It always happened when he was annoyed or frustrated—that tingling sensation that started in his fingertips and spread up his arms. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Not now , he thought firmly. Just a simple purchase. Nothing to get worked up about .

But it was too late. The magic had already started to rise, responding to his emotions rather than his intent. He felt the heat in his palms, the slight crackle of energy that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

And then, without warning, the bundle of lavender burst into flames.

“Shit!” Kai exclaimed, jumping back as blue-violet flames engulfed the dried flowers, sending sparks dancing across the counter.

Madam Wisteria let out a shriek, reaching for a clay pot and dumping its contents—some kind of fine sand—over the burning herbs. The flames died instantly, leaving behind the acrid smell of burnt lavender and something sweeter, like caramelized sugar.

For a moment, there was absolute silence in the small shop.

“I—I'm sorry,” Kai stammered, genuine remorse coloring his voice. “I didn't mean to?—”

“Out!” Madam Wisteria's face had gone pale, her eyes wide with shock and anger. “Get out of my shop this instant, you reckless, untrained?—”

“It was an accident,” Kai protested, reaching for his purchased items. “Look, I'll pay for the damage?—”

“OUT!” she bellowed, her voice carrying an edge of power that made the jars on the shelves rattle. “And don't you dare come back, Thornhaven dog!”

Kai grabbed his packages and backed toward the exit, bumping into a shelf and nearly sending a row of bottled tinctures crashing to the floor. By the time he stumbled out into the marketplace, his heart was racing, and his face burned with embarrassment.

“Smooth, Everwood,” he muttered to himself, hastily shoving the parcels into his pack. “Real smooth.”

It was only then that he noticed the silence that had fallen over the nearby stalls. Vendors and customers alike were staring at him, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility. Someone whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “witch,” and it wasn't said kindly.

Kai pulled his hood up, ducking his head as he tried to walk casually away from Madam Wisteria's tent. The last thing he needed was to create a scene. Silas would never let him hear the end of it if he got himself banned from yet another village.

“Nothing to see here,” he called out with forced cheerfulness. “Just a small... fire-related mishap. All under control now.”

No one looked convinced. In fact, a burly man with arms like tree trunks had started moving toward him, his expression decidedly unfriendly.

Time to go , Kai decided, turning to head back the way he'd come.

That's when a hand clamped around his wrist, strong and unyielding.

“This way,” said a low voice, and before Kai could respond, he was being pulled sideways, down a narrow alley between two buildings that he hadn't even noticed before.

His first instinct was to resist, to reach for one of the hidden knives in his boots, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the firm but not painful grip on his wrist, or the way the stranger moved with purpose rather than menace. Or maybe it was simple curiosity—a trait that Silas often claimed would be the death of him someday.

The alley was dim and cool, shadowed by the overhanging upper stories of the buildings on either side. Laundry lines criss-crossed overhead, and the smell of cooking food wafted from somewhere nearby. After several twists and turns through what felt like a maze, they emerged into a small, secluded courtyard, enclosed on all sides by the backs of shops and homes.

Only then did his rescuer—or captor, Kai hadn't quite decided which—release his wrist and turn to face him.

And oh.

Oh .

Kai prided himself on his ability to maintain his composure in any situation, but he found himself momentarily speechless. The man standing before him was... well, “pretty” didn't quite cover it. He was striking in a way that made Kai's chest tighten inexplicably.

Tall and lean, with shoulder-length hair so pale it appeared almost silver in the dappled sunlight, the stranger regarded Kai with eyes so deeply blue they seemed to glow from within. His features were sharp, almost severe—high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a jawline that could probably cut glass. He wore simple, dark clothing that draped over his form in a way that suggested both comfort and concealment.

But it was the aura around him that truly caught Kai's attention. Not an actual, visible aura (though Kai had seen those too, on certain beings), but a sense of contained power, like the stillness before a storm. It made the small hairs on the back of Kai's neck stand up—not unpleasantly, but with a tingling awareness that whispered: This one is different .

The stranger's expression was stern, almost disapproving. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked, his voice low and melodic despite the harsh words.

Kai found his voice, along with his usual defensive humor. “Generally not on my to-do list, no. Though I appreciate the rescue from what I'm sure would have been a thoroughly unpleasant experience.” He offered his hand. “Kai Everwood. Thanks for the timely intervention, mysterious stranger.”

The man ignored his outstretched hand, instead crossing his arms over his chest. “You shouldn't be using magic here, especially not so carelessly. This village doesn't welcome outsiders who flaunt their power.”

“I wasn't flaunting anything,” Kai protested, letting his hand drop to his side. “It was an accident. Sometimes my magic just... happens.”

A flicker of something—surprise? interest?—crossed the stranger's face before his expression returned to careful neutrality. “Untrained, then. Even worse.”

“I prefer 'self-taught with an emphasis on practical applications,'” Kai replied with a grin that wasn't returned. “And you are...?”

For a moment, it seemed like the man might not answer. Then, reluctantly: “Eliar.”

“Just Eliar? No last name, no mysterious title, no 'Defender of Convenient Alleyways'?”

“Just Eliar.” His tone made it clear that further questions on the subject wouldn't be welcome.

“Well, 'Just Eliar,'” Kai said, shifting his pack more securely onto his shoulder, “while I appreciate the rescue, I should probably be going. Places to be, people waiting for overpriced herbs, you know how it is.”

He moved to step around Eliar, but the man shifted, blocking his path.

“You should leave the village,” Eliar said, his tone somewhere between advice and command. “Now. Today.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “That's a bit dramatic, don't you think? I set some flowers on fire, not the entire market. I'm sure by tomorrow, they'll have found something new to gossip about.”

“It's not about the fire.” Eliar's eyes flickered toward the mouth of the alley, then back to Kai. “There are... tensions here. Things that have been dormant for a long time are beginning to stir. Your presence, your magic—it's like throwing oil on embers that were nearly cold.”

Despite himself, Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. The words were delivered matter-of-factly, but there was an undercurrent of genuine concern that was difficult to dismiss.

Still, dismissal was what Kai did best when confronted with unsettling truths.

“Look, I appreciate the cryptic warning, I really do. Very mysterious, appropriately ominous, excellent delivery.” He took a step closer to Eliar, noticing with satisfaction how the taller man's eyes widened slightly at the decreased distance between them. “But I've got a job to do here, and I'm not leaving until it's done. So unless you want to be more specific about these 'things stirring,' I'll be on my way.”

Eliar's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching at the corner. “You're making a mistake.”

“Wouldn't be the first time,” Kai replied cheerfully. “Probably won't be the last. It's kind of my specialty.”

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. Kai couldn't help but notice how the sunlight filtering through the overhead laundry cast dappled patterns across Eliar's face, highlighting the almost inhuman perfection of his features. There was something ancient in those blue eyes, something that didn't match the youthful appearance of the rest of him.

Finally, Eliar sighed, a sound of pure frustration. “Fine. On your head be it.” He stepped aside, gesturing toward the alley. “The main road is that way. Try not to set anything else on fire before you leave.”

“No promises,” Kai replied with a wink, just to see if he could provoke another reaction.

Kai wandered back into the marketplace, his encounter with Eliar still echoing in his mind. The sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees felt different somehow—sharper, more focused, as if the world had shifted slightly on its axis.

He moved through the remaining stalls methodically, ticking off items from Silas's list while his thoughts kept circling back to those impossibly blue eyes. The man had to be at least partially non-human. No one born to ordinary parents had eyes that seemed to glow from within, or moved with that uncanny grace, or disappeared into shadows like he was made of them.

“Moonroot powder, check. Crystallized dewdrops, check,” Kai muttered, tucking each purchase away. “Mysterious brooding stranger with cryptic warnings, unexpected but also check.”

As he paid for a bundle of dried blackberry stems from a vendor who kept shooting nervous glances his way, Kai felt a distinct weight land on his shoulder.

“Someone's in trouble,” sang a tiny voice directly into his ear.

Kai didn't flinch, though the sudden appearance would have startled most people. “Hello, Briar. Wondered when you'd show up.”

The sprite—no larger than Kai's hand—made herself comfortable on his shoulder, her dragonfly wings iridescent in the dappled light. Her skin was a mottled green that would have let her blend perfectly with forest foliage if she hadn't chosen to wear a dress made from what appeared to be stolen scraps of bright red silk.

“I was napping in your pack,” she said, stretching lazily. “Until someone decided to create a spectacle. The lavender lady is still cursing your name, by the way. Very creative language.”

“It wasn't intentional,” Kai grumbled, moving away from the stall. He lowered his voice. “You know how it gets sometimes.”

Briar snorted, a sound oddly deep for her tiny frame. “Oh, I know. I just enjoy watching you squirm.” She peered at his face, her violet eyes narrowing. “You've got that look.”

“What look?”

“That 'I've found something interesting and I'm about to do something stupid' look. I know it well. It's my favorite of your looks.”

Kai rolled his eyes. “I don't have a look.”

“You absolutely do.” Briar flitted from his shoulder to hover in front of his face, wings a blur of motion. “So who is he?”

“Who's who?”

“The very pretty, very serious man who pulled you into the alley. Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you.”

Sometimes having a constant companion who could turn invisible at will was decidedly inconvenient. “Just someone who was helping me avoid an angry mob.”

“Mmhmm.” She landed back on his shoulder, her tiny fingers playing with a strand of his hair. “And I'm just a harmless butterfly. Come on, details! Was he human? He didn't smell human.”

“His name is Eliar, and I have no idea what he is.” Kai attempted to sound disinterested, but he could feel Briar's knowing gaze. “He seemed to think I shouldn't be here. That my magic was... stirring things up.”

“Ooh, stirring things.” Briar's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “How deliciously vague and ominous.”

“That's what I said!”

“So naturally, you're planning to stay and find out more.”

“Naturally,” Kai agreed, unable to suppress a grin.

“Silas is going to kill you.”

“Only if he finds out.”

“When,” Briar corrected. “When he finds out. Because he always does.”

Kai shrugged, nearly dislodging the sprite. “Worth it.”

He turned down a side street that opened onto a quieter section of the market, an area where the vendors sold more mundane goods—pottery, textiles, woodcarvings. As he walked, he became increasingly aware of a strange sensation, like a subtle vibration running just beneath his skin. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly—more like the feeling of standing too close to a powerful magnetic field.

Kai paused, frowning. “Do you feel that?”

Briar tilted her head. “Feel what?”

“I don't know. It's like...” He flexed his fingers, trying to grasp the sensation. “Like magic, but not quite. More like... the memory of magic.”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the strange energy. It seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, stronger in some directions than others. Without consciously deciding to, he began to follow the feeling, letting it pull him forward like an invisible thread.

“Kai?” Briar's voice held a note of concern. “What are you doing?”

“Not sure,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “Just following the... whatever this is.”

He hadn't gone more than a dozen steps when he collided with something solid.

“Watch where you're going, young man!”

Kai's eyes snapped open to find himself face to face with an elderly woman, her wrinkled face creased in annoyance. She clutched a basket of apples, several of which had tumbled to the ground in their collision.

“I'm so sorry,” Kai said quickly, bending to retrieve the fallen fruit. “I was distracted.”

“Clearly,” the woman huffed, but her expression softened as she took in his appearance. “You're not from around here.”

It wasn't a question, but Kai answered anyway. “Just visiting. Picking up supplies.”

She studied him with surprising intensity, her eyes—a pale, milky gray—seeming to look through him rather than at him.

“Hmm,” she said finally, accepting the apples he'd gathered. “Interesting time to visit. The village doesn't much care for strangers these days. Not since the dreams started.”

Kai's curiosity immediately piqued. “Dreams?”

“Dreams of falling stars and forgotten guardians,” the woman said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Dreams of what was lost coming back to us.” She reached out suddenly, gnarled fingers grasping Kai's wrist with surprising strength. “Can you feel it? The waking?”

The strange energy he'd been following seemed to pulse more strongly at her words, as if responding to them. “I... I think I can,” he admitted.

She nodded, satisfied, and released him. “Good. That's good. Means you might be useful.”

Before Kai could ask what she meant, the woman was already shuffling away, her basket clutched tightly to her chest. He stared after her, the encounter leaving him with more questions than answers.

“Well, that wasn't weird at all,” Briar remarked dryly.

“This whole place is weird,” Kai muttered. “And getting weirder by the minute.”

He resumed his shopping, but the strange energy persisted, a constant hum at the edge of his awareness. By the time he'd collected everything on Silas's list, the sun was beginning to sink toward the treetops, casting long shadows across the village.

Time to head back to Thornhaven, he thought, though the idea held less appeal than it had that morning. There was something happening here, something fascinating and potentially dangerous—exactly the kind of situation he found impossible to walk away from.

As he made his way toward the village gate, a young boy darted in front of him, nearly causing another collision.

“Sorry, mister!” the boy called, but instead of continuing on his way, he pressed something into Kai's hand. “From the baker lady,” he whispered, then disappeared into the crowd before Kai could respond.

Kai looked down at the object in his palm—a small, folded piece of parchment. He glanced around, but saw no one watching him with particular interest. Careful to shield the note from casual observers, he unfolded it.

The message was brief, written in a neat, flowing script:

If you want answers about what's waking in our village—and about the man with star-eyes—return after moonrise. The old well behind the tanner's shop.