36. THIRTY-SIX #2
The real goal is to distract her tonight without bringing any unnecessary attention to ourselves. The half-masks hide our better-known features, but even in simple clothes, the sway of Mina’s curves catches the attention of more than a few men.
I wrap my arm around her waist and tuck her against me as we weave our way through the streets with no real direction.
She glances down at the gesture. “Is this necessary?”
“In order to blend in, yes. For the next few hours, we’re a normal couple.” A weak excuse, but valid enough for her to accept it.
After the stress of the past few weeks, we both need a break to reset and refocus for the remainder of the tour. A part of me hopes a night off will help Mina find her way back to her old self, especially here of all places.
Hartfield surrendered without a fight, eager to gain the knowledge of other territories in Veloria, and the streets still hold the same sense of wonder and excitement from the last time I was here.
Even the storefronts closed in favor of setting up stalls outside.
They line the sides of each roadway branching out from the city center, while bisecting streets are set up with seating areas to relax and talk.
We pass fresh fruit stands, small grills with savory game, and every local delicacy Hartfield has to offer, all travel-sized for the festival.
Craftsmen show off their latest designs, from silver jewelry boxes to small knitted animal figures that appear to be popular among the children darting around.
A nearby stand selling flower crowns catches my attention. I all but drag Mina down the road, tossing a coin at the small boy running the shop. “One crown for the lady, please, young lord.”
He shoves the coin into a pouch at his waist. “Pick any one you like, miss.”
Mina pulls her hand from mine to study the selection in front of her. Chrysanthemums dyed every color of the spectrum are woven together with blue silk ribbon. She holds two up for consideration.
“I can’t seem to decide. Would you be willing to pick for me?”
His toothy grin reveals a missing canine. “I like the yellow.”
She sets down the red crown. “I think I like yellow too. Thank you for your help.” Mina grabs an extra coin from my pocket and throws it at the boy with a wink. She adjusts the crown as we walk.
“It suits you,” I say, bringing my lips to her ear in the packed crowd.
“I’d rather have no crown at all.”
I hoped the gift would lift her spirits, but instead I unlocked a new facet of her depression. Dammit. One step forward, two steps back.
“Alright then.” I pluck the crown from her head and place it on my own. It’s far too small and keeps slipping into my face. I shove it back as Mina’s lips twitch, fighting a small smile.
We decide to wait in line for a local rice wine. The massive queue is a promising sign. While Mina studies the people around us, I study her. She might be stuck in whatever internal dungeon her pain crafted over the past couple weeks, but bits of light are finding their way through.
Mina fondly watches two girls race through the crowd, nearly knocking over patrons in the process. The chaos summons a soft smile. A real one.
Relief courses through me. Maybe I’ll have my Mina back by the end of the night.
As the line progresses, we get stuck near a stall selling scarves. A set of middle-aged women grumble about how the line is blocking their merchandise. I’ve seen more than one person buy an item while waiting, so they have little reason for concern.
“I can’t believe they shut down the visitors line right as I was about to go in,” the ashen-haired woman complains.
“I offered to let you go first,” her companion counters. “You didn’t miss much. They just sat there eating, like pigs at a trough.”
The other woman hisses, glancing around before smacking her friend on the arm. “Bite your tongue. The last thing we need is the emperor avenging his prized bride. I’d like to keep my head, thank you.”
Mina stiffens at their critique. I suppress the urge to reveal ourselves and watch these two hags wither before me in fear. One of our guards is nearby. A small nod is all it would take to have them punished. But then my night with Mina would be over.
I try my best to ignore their continued gossip, but their snorts of laughter keep drawing my attention.
“You should have seen her dress. Same silk as the tablecloth they ate over. Completely ridiculous.”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen a few shops start to sell gowns with chiffon and silk. They weren’t half bad.” The ashen-haired woman withers under her friend’s glare. “But I’m sure it was tacky like you said.”
The line shifts forward, and I have to nudge Mina to get her to move. She’s so focused on the rude comments that she doesn’t notice the man in front of us blatantly check her out. Even in a plain linen dress, Mina is a knockout.
I slip my arms around her waist, hugging her from behind as I glare at the man. His gaze falls to where my hands rest on her stomach before turning around quickly.
That’s right. She’s spoken for.
Mina spins around in my arms. I tuck her against me, enjoying the way she’s glaring at me far too much.
“Can I help you?” she whispers.
“No. I think I’m quite alright. Just playing my part to blend in.”
“Fine,” she grinds out.
My arms are a restraining rope as the line creeps forward, allowing us to eavesdrop on more locals. Many nitpick how cold the greetings felt or how awkward it was to watch us eat. The bolder fools speculate that she seduced me the night we met instead of waiting for the wedding.
Little do they know we haven’t completed that step at all.
Wind rips through the street, knocking the famous drink from everyone’s hands and sending a few scarves skyward. Some cheer, drunk on the wine already, while others gripe and crowd the stand in front of us to get replacements.
I have a suspicion the gust came from the seething woman in my arms.
I sigh. No point in fighting our way to the front of the line now.
“How badly do you want the drink?” I ask.
Her teeth grind together before she speaks. “Not at all.”
“Then let’s get out of here before you cause a mob.”
An hour later, Mina puffs out a disappointed sigh. “Another one caught down the street.”
“At least that means our guards are doing their job.”
We lean against an alcove between shops as the crowd flows by. I keep my back to the swarm of bodies while we observe our spies in training. We spot them easily, but some are doing well enough to go unnoticed by our guards.
Mina’s mood is as sour as ever thanks to the harsh opinions of the citizens around us. Kalisham and her choices are being gossiped about in the worst ways. The judgments are no different than what my mother faced, but at least she was shielded from such cruelty outside of the castle.
Not every assessment has been negative, but the fact we can’t break our disguises to negate the critiques is weighing on us both. My fingers itch to cut something, anything. To feel the weight of a blade in my palms and redirect this annoyance and anger.
I notice two boys battling in the open cross street, their wooden swords calling out with each strike. The blunt edge catches one boy on the finger, and he holds it in his mouth, tears streaming down his face. A woman swoops him up into a hug and disappears into the sea of bodies.
A pang of familiar grief squeezes my chest. Perhaps a sword is exactly what Mina and I both need.
It takes nearly ten minutes to find the right stand. It’s tucked into a side street but has an excellent display of wooden swords. All various sizes and shapes, all labeled with numbers for ease.
I eye the selection before pointing at number three—a straight double-edged blade, much like the one I carry in real life. The shopkeeper hands over the sword, and I stare at Mina expectantly.
She points at number eight—a curved blade with a longer handle. “Happy?” she asks as I pay the man.
“Not yet. This way.”
I pull her through the crowd, traveling away from busier streets with each turn. Our path is seemingly random, designed to lose our soldiers, but Alexi will be able to keep up.
The streets grow emptier the farther we travel. With everyone on duty, the accommodations for our soldiers should be barren. The inn on the southern outskirts of the city is ghostly save for the unlucky innkeeper forced to stay behind and work.
She’s easy enough to slip by on our way to an empty courtyard surrounded by tall trees. Even if someone walks by, they won’t see us, and I doubt anyone’s on this side of town. I pull off my mask and throw it to the side.
“What are we doing here?” Mina asks, spinning in circles as she takes in the open greenery and stone.
“We’re here to fight.”
Her eyes go wide as I swing for her head with full force.