Chapter 6 #2
“My nose, actually.” I gesture at the donuts as I dig into my pocket for some coins. “Just one, please.”
“Ahh, you have exceptional taste. Those are my wife’s favorite, but one is never enough.”
She grabs a sheet of white paper and rolls it into a cone. Fresh steam billows from the pile as she scoops three and drops them inside.
“Put your money away, dear,” she says with a dismissive wave. “It’s on the house.”
“I don’t mind paying,” I insist.
She shoves the food in my direction with a shake of her head. “You have a look about you.”
The warmth from the donuts spreads through the paper and heats my palm, and I cock my head at her in question.
She gestures at the food in my hand. “Like someone who could use a stranger’s kindness.”
All that thick emotion I’ve stashed away pushes at the lid of its box, threatening to spill over. I try to double down on my blasé expression, but it doesn’t come as easily under her inspection.
Needing to compose myself, I tear off a piece of donut and pop it into my mouth. A quiet groan forms around the buttery cinnamon and the bite of dark rum.
“Anyone could use a stranger’s kindness when it tastes like this,” I say once I swallow, and her smile turns pleased. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly,” she says. “I always welcome good conversation.”
“Why do you set up here and not in the human markets?”
She offers another smile, this one softer and laced with a quiet, lingering sorrow.
“Atlanta was militarized shortly after the rifts opened, but it took decades for the fighting to stop. My father fought in those riots and lost his life for it. It left my mother a widow, but she eventually found love again.”
She pauses for a long stretch, as if she’s gauging if I’m worth trusting with her story. The assessment feels important, so I don’t interrupt, and soon, she continues.
“He was what they like to call a monster, but he was very kind and took care of me like I was his own. They didn’t hide their love, and neither side liked that very much.
They made sure we knew it, too. Their relationship wasn’t illegal, but there weren’t many places we could go without getting nasty looks from others. ”
She gestures around the marketplace, and I let my eyes wander over its occupants. Sure, it’s mostly monsters, but there are humans woven among them.
“Things are not so easily divided or defined,” she says, drawing my eye back to hers.
“Human, monster… that doesn’t matter as much as one’s heart.
When I fell in love, it also crossed that unspoken line.
But we were happy, despite the ugly words and opinions of others, and I stopped hiding. I let them see me here.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say, knowing all too well the hardship of that same forbidden love.
She shakes her head. “Your struggles make you stronger, whether you want them to or not. Life is funny like that. It doesn’t give us much of a choice.
Our scars tell our stories, and I believe they should be worn with pride.
” She nods at my eyepatch. “It looks like you have plenty of stories of your own.”
“That I do,” I agree as I reach up to trace the edge of the leather strap. “Though mine weren’t given for anything quite so noble.”
She hums softly with a quiet note of doubt lingering in it, and after a pause, her voice is gentle as she says, “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
“True,” I counter, “but there’s a world of difference between being cast aside for daring to show your love and choosing to run from it.”
“Is that why you’re in the city?” she asks. “Running away?”
A faint smile curves my lips as I give her my inevitable truth. “I’ve spent years running from it all. Even longer hiding in the shadows I built for myself. It’s time to head straight into the mess I’ve been avoiding.”
“And will wherever you’re headed get you into trouble?” she asks with an arched silver brow.
I bite my lip before deciding to put some trust in her. “It might. I have to find it first.”
“Ah, finding trouble is often the best part, my dear,” she says, and I’m so surprised that I laugh out loud.
Her eyes crinkle again as she chuckles along with me.
“It’s a lot more fun to get into than get out of,” I agree.
“Do you have somewhere to stay while you search?” she asks, and when I shake my head, she nods to herself. “A friend of mine runs an inn on the outskirts of a human neighborhood. It’s a quiet spot where everyone stays to themselves and minds their own business.”
“Sounds like my kind of place,” I say.
Finding somewhere to lay my head is the next item on my checklist, and I’m not going to pass up an opportunity when it so readily presents itself.
She lowers her voice just enough to make the words feel heavier. “If you’re short on coin, he’s known to barter a room for... other favors. Nothing indecent, mind you, but perhaps not strictly legal, if one were to look into the laws too closely.”
A wry smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “And let me guess… he’s studied those laws very, very carefully?”
Her eyes twinkle, but her silence answers my question before she asks one of her own. “How familiar are you with the city?”
My hand tilts back and forth in front of me. “It’s been several years since I’ve been here, but I know my way around well enough.”
“Go down to the eastern end of River Street and look for the grocery on the right. Something to do with a boar or a buck… I forget the name.” She waves her hand impatiently.
“Turn there, and the inn is a few buildings down. It’s called The Keen Pint, and you can’t miss the sign out front.
The pub is downstairs, but there are plenty of rooms to rent on the upper levels. ”
She stops to give me an assessing sweep with her eyes. “The owner’s name is Leif. He’ll be suspicious of you in those leathers, but tell him Cornelia sent you. Oh, and save one of those donuts for him. It’ll do the trick.”
“Thank you, Cornelia,” I say with every ounce of sincerity I can muster. The gentle smile I offer her is the best my frayed nerves will let me shape, but it’s real.
Not a mask.
“Thank me by coming back someday and telling me every bit of the trouble you’ve stirred up along the way.”
Her time-worn fingers close around my wrist, warm and steady despite the lines etched deep into her skin. She holds my gaze with that same knowing look.
“I hope you find what you’re searching for,” she says, and it feels genuine.
I squeeze her hand before I turn away and push through the crowd.
“Yeah, me too.”