Chapter 3
Nelle
The city of Ascendria was spectacular. The freeway curved along the edge of the silvery lake, skimming past lush gardens and dark ribbons of forest. I couldn’t get enough of the city’s skyline, the rise of sleek metal, shimmering glass, and brutalist concrete, all gleaming against the deep green spine of the mountain ridge beyond.
We’d stopped once during the trip to the city.
Graysen had gotten out of his car, and I’d watched in bewilderment as he stalked onto the middle of the road and shoveled a dead opossum, squished flat and dried to a leathery crisp, into the burlap sack, which he then folded up and stashed inside the canvas bag.
He had put everything into the trunk, and we drove on without him offering a single word about what he’d just done.
Pure stubbornness silenced my tongue. Even though I was desperate to ask, I could wait until he chose to reveal it.
I greedily inhaled the car fumes, my hair tossed about by the hot gusts pouring through the open windows, delighting in the vehicles cruising beside us in the other lanes.
A motorcycle streaked by in a blaze of speed, and golden sunlight flashed off the wakes of pleasure boats cutting across the lake.
Overhead, a corporate helicopter hovered above the heliport near the shore.
Jittering my feet against the car mat, I stared through the open window at the wondrous life rushing past me, every so often bursting into a drunk-on-life kind of laughter.
“So, where are we going?” Graysen asked. We slowed down as we neared a set of blinking traffic lights. “We can’t just drive around the city all day.”
Oh, but how I wish we could.
I angled my chin, letting the sunglasses slide down my nose so I could peer at him above the gold-rimmed shades. “Ascendria’s Market,” I said smugly. “Where else would a Horned God who sells rarities be?”
He glanced at me in the exact same way, with his eyes peeking above the black rim of his Wayfarers.
Respect lit his gaze before he replied, “So clever, little bird,” then turned to his dashboard-mounted phone to call the lead car and tell them where we were heading.
At the set of traffic lights, we turned back into the city, threading through the highrises and congested streets until we reached a charming red brick district where baskets brimming with blossoms hung beneath the stretched shop awnings and glossy trees lined the sidewalks, their leaves beginning to burn with fall.
Graysen parked his car, as did the convoy.
Our guards, dressed in black, deployed, fanning out to keep a close vigil on us and the busy street.
Graysen got out first. I heard the click of the trunk opening before it slammed shut.
He moved so fast I didn’t even reach the handle before he rounded the car and opened my door.
I shoved my feet back into my shoes, not even bothered about their irritating confinement as I bounced out, exhilarated to be amongst life.
The city was gloriously loud with the noise of crawling traffic and pedestrians buzzing along the pavement.
I was practically beaming as I propped my sunglasses on top of my head and watched families stroll past hand-in-hand, businesspeople hurrying by with briefcases, and tourists clogging the sidewalk to snap photos of the promenade across the street.
Voices, young and old, chattered around me, blending with the music floating from the nearest shop, and the smells…
The divine scent of something sweet being pan-fried at a nearby food cart made my mouth water.
It was an overload of sensations. My gaze kept darting about, trying to take it all in, my mind cataloging everything I saw and heard and smelled.
I grinned up at Graysen.
And my excitement faltered.
All the warmth in my chest drained away under that icy derision.
Gone was the man from the car. He hooked his sunglasses onto his t-shirt and braced his feet apart, standing before me, cold and disinterested, a cruel twist to his sullen mouth.
A long, drawn-out moment passed before Graysen bent low to whisper in my ear. “Could you at least pretend to be afraid of me?”
Oh. My gaze flicked to the guards keeping their distance, and I belatedly realized he had slipped his mask back into place. I outwardly shrank, hitching my shoulders to my ears as I wrung my hands, pulling a scared face.
He squinted at me, looking as if he weren’t quite sure what the hells I was trying to portray. In truth, I guess I might have looked a little comical. “It’s really hard to do,” I whispered. Especially with all the fun we’d been having of late.
“Try a little harder,” he whispered back.
And then I didn’t need to try very hard not to like him when he straightened, taking a long step away, speaking loud enough for the bodyguards to hear. “Come along, Pet.”
My scowl was a clash of frost and fire. I stomped off, quickening my pace to overtake the guards and head down the street.
I stopped at the edge of the curb. We needed to cross over to the wide promenade that led to Ascendria’s Market, and I was wondering where to find the crosswalk when Graysen reached my side.
The road was bustling with cars, and in that classic, arrogant Crowther style, Graysen just strolled on out, the bodyguards quickly following suit, washing me along with them.
The traffic came to a screaming halt, and a few car horns blared their discontent, but Graysen didn’t seem to care.
And neither did I. I was far too excited.
The afternoon sun beat down, and the humid air clung to my skin, turning it sticky beneath the summery dress even before we’d reached the other side of the street.
Heat waves shimmered above the pathway between the two brick buildings as we headed down the promenade, where graceful trees offered pockets of shade.
The crowd thickened the closer we got to the market entrance.
Ascendria’s market rose behind a limestone frontage carved into the likeness of a forest, a small flock of birds swirling across a summer sky. Animal eyes of every shape and size peered between tall reeds and the papery trunks of birches.
Grownups left the market with brown paper bags swinging from their fingertips, while kids with their faces painted as butterflies and tigers ran ahead, clutching spinning toy windmills or with bobbing balloons tied to their wrists.
It hit me right then, an overwhelming feeling of what it meant to be free amongst the wildness of the city.
It was a solid punch to the heart, and I stumbled to a halt.
Despite being within a cascade of bodyguards, I was free from my family’s estate, the Crowthers’ too, and stood amid the everyday life everyone else took for granted.
My lower lip quivered.
Graysen whirled around, but I couldn’t see him through the waves of tears.
Nor could I speak through the thickness choking my throat.
He came to stand before me, and I hurriedly brushed the wetness away and gazed upward into a cruel expression.
He couldn’t comfort me, but I saw the desperation and urge to do so in the depths of his eyes.
So he did what he could, shifting closer until no one could see his hand find mine, warm fingers curling around my trembling ones in a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“It’s j-j-just…” I tried to say.
“I know,” he murmured quietly.
I hiccuped, rubbing my prickling nose with my free hand. “I’ve h-hardly ever b-been out by myself.” Only once before, and that was with Graysen too. My family had rarely taken me to the city, and I’d never been allowed to roam free.
People flowed all around us, and I drank in the chatter of their conversations.
Dinner out, or should we stay in?
Yeah, nah, it’s all good. I need the overtime anyway. I’ll get the accounts done tonight.
Lily, watch out, your shoelaces are untied!
My heart ached in misery, but radiant joy also saturated it to finally be part of life.
I used the ends of my scarf to dry my lashes and sucked in a deep breath. Squaring my shoulders, I collected myself and whispered to Graysen. “I’m okay.” My skin tingled at the soft stroke of his thumb across the back of my hand, the tightening of his fingers around mine before he let go.
Graysen stepped away, keeping that cold, disinterested mask in place, but he kept flush at my side, and together we entered the market.
This was the day market, the counterpart to the Night Bazaar down by the lakeside, where fire breathers and fireworks scored the velvet-black sky.
I should’ve been seeking the Purveyor of Rarities, but my pace slowed as I stared upward in awe.
Giant papier-maché clouds hid the pitched ceiling with gigantic birds suspended beneath them.
An albatross glided above a sharp-eyed hawk chasing a swallow.
And below, a crush of brightly striped tents crowded the floor.
An artisan worked at a pottery wheel, pink hair bouncing as she pumped the wooden pedal faster, clay rising into a rudimentary shape of a vase between her hands.
Leaving Graysen behind, I hurried down an avenue between silky tents of robin’s-egg blue, jade, and marigold, my senses tugged in every direction even as I tried to stay focused.
A busker in a faux-tattered suit strummed a mandolin, and farther on, pan flutes threaded a reedy melody through the din.
Performers in macabre animal masks strode past on stilts, juggling bones to delight a knot of giggling children.
I rose onto my tiptoes, fiddling with the generous pleats in my dress as savory and sweet smells colored the air.
Flames licked a blackened wok as vegetables, hissing and spitting, were tossed about.
The scent of fresh loaves drifted from a bakery, and a nearby tent lovingly folded crepes and drizzled them with orange.
But where was the Purveyor of Rarities?