Chapter 1 #2
I blinked away the sting in my eyes and took another sip of tea, swallowing against the lump in my throat. Outside, the world moved on. The markets would be busy, the streets alive with voices and laughter. Life continued, heedless of loss.
I exhaled, setting the cup on the table. I rose, the wood floor beneath my bare feet anchoring me in the present.
My mothers voice cried out from the courtyard. “My roses! What happened to my roses?!”
I winced. Some secrets were best kept hidden, both the nightmares haunting my sleep and the neighbour’s son who’d destroyed her prized roses.
Today would be interesting indeed.
I slipped into a loose-fitting tunic, the cool linen a stark contrast to the lingering heat that clung to my skin.
The draping fabric was soft and worn from years of use, its pale beige hue standing out against the sun-kissed warmth of my complexion.
I pulled up my trousers, cinching them at the waist with a simple, woven sash.
I worked the familiar knots until it sat comfortably against the gentle curve of my hips.
Turning toward the mirror hanging on the smooth, clay wall, I caught my reflection and nearly choked. My mother was right. My hair did in fact look like shit.
With a heavy sigh, I ran my fingers through the tangled waves of black hair. No matter how many times I combed it or wove it into a neat braid, it always had a mind of its own.
I worked tirelessly to tame the unruly strands, deftly twisting them into a simple braid. Using a leather cord, I bound it tightly, as if that would make a difference.
Reaching beneath my tunic, I brushed the cool metal of my father’s pendant, tracing the patterns before tucking it safely away. The familiar weight against my skin grounded me in a way that nothing else could.
With a deep breath, I stepped outside.
The sun blazed down through the cloudless sky, bouncing off the whitewashed walls with blinding force. I recoiled, throwing an arm across my eyes and stumbling back. “Shit, it’s bright out here.”
A sharp smack landed across the back of my head, lurching me forward.
“Language, Elira!” My mother warned.
I winced, rubbing the spot where her hand had connected. “Ow, Ummi. You can’t just go around hitting people.”
She stood with her hands planted firmly on her hips and a single brow raised. The corner of her mouth twitched. “I just did.”
She adjusted her own tunic, smoothing non-existent wrinkles from the fabric.
I straightened my shoulders. “You know, one day I’m going to start hitting back.”
Her eyes widened comically, one hand flying to her chest before her laugh broke free. Her frail frame shook with mirth, and the lines around her eyes deepened as she reached out, linking our arms together.
“And on that day, I shall bow before your mighty courage,” she teased, tugging me along. “Until then, mind your tongue in the village. The elders have ears like foxes.”
I rolled my eyes but squeezed her arm affectionately.
Together we began our walk toward the market. The scent of baking bread wafted from nearby houses, where women called out to each other across narrow alleyways—their voices carrying in the clear morning air.
The village unfolded before us, sun-washed and humming with life as we rounded the final corner.
Buildings of earthen clay stood pressed together, their walls the colour of honey and sand.
Elaborate tiles in sapphire blue and emerald green lined the edges of small fountains where children splashed, sending water droplets glittering in the air.
Their laughter mingled with the animated calls of shopkeepers setting up their wares.
The pathways were already teeming with people, bodies weaving through the stalls in a frenzied search for the best goods before they vanished. Women balanced baskets on their heads, while men dragged stubborn donkeys laden with wares.
The markets only opened once a month, when traders arrived from distant cities and villages. If you failed to get what you needed, you were stuck scraping by until the next one.
“I told you so,” mother sang, a smug smile spreading across her face as she gestured to the crowd with a flourish of her hand.
I sighed, nudging her shoulder with mine. “Yes, yes.” I swept my braid over my shoulder. “The sun rises, the wind blows, and Ummi is never wrong.”
She hummed in satisfaction, reaching up to pat my cheek. “Remember that and you’ll live a long and happy life.”
She pointed toward a stall piled high with pyramids of spices in rich reds, yellows, and browns. “Let us see what is left for foods, and once we’re done, we can look around.”
The market was a whirlwind of colour and movement.
Canopies of vibrant fabric stretched overhead, casting patterned shadow onto the narrow, winding paths.
The rich scent of herbs mingled with crisp citrus and the sizzle of meat on small, charcoal grills filled my nostrils.
Merchants fanned the smoke toward potential customers, the aroma more effective than any shouted bargain.
A group of children raced past, nearly knocking me sideways as their small bodies darted between the forest of adult legs. Their shrieks of delight loud as their mother—a woman with a face lined by sun and worry—pushed through the crowd behind them, panting as she shouted empty threats.
“No dinner if you don’t come back right now!”
The children laughed even harder, dodging her outstretched hands.
I steadied myself as they ran circles around me. Their joy was infectious, spreading through the crowded space like ripples in a pond.
Their mother, stopped beside me and offered a breathless apology. I waved her off with a chuckle.
“Ahh, a smile that lights up the sky.”
I rolled my eyes and spun on my heel, the dirt crunching beneath my sandals.
“Actually, I believe it’s the sun that lights up the sky.
” I gestured upward with an exaggerated sweep of my arm.
“You see that big, bright thing? They say if you stare at it for too long, you’ll go blind.
” I leaned forward, poking a finger into his shoulder.
“You should try it, just to see if it’s true. ”
Theo stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, the sleeves of his loose, white cotton shirt rolled up to expose forearms tanned dark by weeks on the road. His teeth flashed brightly against his skin as his grin widened.
“But if I go blind,” he said, stepping close enough that cedarwood filled the space between us, “I won’t be able to see that gorgeous smile I love so much.” He dropped his voice to a low whisper, bending so his lips nearly brushed my ear. “And you know just how much it turns me on.”
He straightened, wiggling his brows suggestively, amber eyes dancing with mischief.
My hand shot out, grabbing the first thing my fingers touched from a nearby stall. An apple.
Perfect.
I hurled the fruit with all the force I could muster.
Theo dodged effortlessly, his body twisting to the side as the fruit sailed past him and landed with a dull thud in a pile of rugs.
Oops.
The merchant's outraged cry rose above the market noise. Before I could apologise, Theo lunged forward, wrapping his strong arms around me in a crushing embrace that lifted my feet clear off the ground.
“Put me down, you overgrown camel!” I shrieked, pounding my fists against his shoulders as he spun me in a circle. “I hate you!”
“No, you love me,” he countered, his laughter rumbling through his chest and into mine. Finally, he set me down.
“You wish.” I muttered.
We fell into step together, weaving through the crowd.
The market hummed with renewed vigour as the morning progressed. Stalls overflowed with vibrant produce—pomegranates split open to reveal ruby seeds, figs dripping with honey, and olives glistening in barrels of brine.
We stopped every so often to admire the colours or to sample the sweetness of freshly cut melon offered on the tip of a merchant’s knife.
I turned to Theo. “When did you get back?”
He reached for a hanging bunch of grapes, plucking some and popping them into his mouth. The merchant opened his mouth to protest, but Theo flipped him a small coin without breaking his stride.
“Just this morning,” he said. “And let me tell you, after a month of travelling with nothing but camels and grumpy old men for company, all I want to do is sit back and relax.”
I raised a sceptical brow. “Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at home, I don’t know, actually relaxing?”
“Had to see my favourite person first,” he said, smiling as he tapped my nose.
I pressed my hand over my heart with exaggerated longing in my eyes. “Aww, I’m your favourite person? That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Of course you are.” His grin widened. “Am I yours?”
I turned sharply, my braid whipping around and nearly hitting him. “No.”
He gasped theatrically, staggering backwards until he collided with a stack of woven baskets, sending them tumbling to the ground.
“You wound me, Elira. Right. Here.” He thumped his fist against his heart, his expression so forlorn that even the basket seller chuckled while Theo hastily restacked his wares.
He really was my favourite person, not that I’d ever admit it.
Theo and I had grown up side by side, bound by a friendship that weathered time, distance, and our relentless need to irritate the hell out of each other. His absence always left a void I refused to acknowledge, but the moment he returned, I wasted no time in tormenting him.
The crowd suddenly parted like water breaking against stone.
Heavy footfall silenced nearby conversations, and people pressed themselves against market stalls to make way for—I counted three—royal guards.
They scanned the crowd.
It was odd to see them here. Our village was small, tucked away in the foothills far from the Northen Kingdom of Edla.
Theo and I sidestepped as they passed, their calculating eyes sweeping over every face.
Heavens, they were intimidating.