Chapter 4
Isca
Life went on, despite the terrors of the previous day.
As I settled into my stall the next morning, I saw it had been cleaned again.
Had more Assembly guards come by to finish the job?
My gaze drifted upward, past smoke-blackened rooftops, to their tower looming at the heart of the ancient fortress.
The Assembly’s purple banners snapped wildly in the wind at the top—beautiful things disguising darker truths beneath.
Caervorn only existed because the bones of Avanfell’s fallen empire still jutted from the earth. That empire was now buried under moss and decay, but not quite dead thanks to the Assembly taking up residence in its corpse.
Another gale off the hills cut through my shawl, making me shiver.
All around me, awnings strained and groaned like the ghosts of the empire’s army still marching through the wreckage.
The mages claimed those crumbling stones were reminders of “better days.” But from where I stood—hungry, shivering—they were just tombstones.
I was still on edge; every clatter of hooves on the cobblestones sounded like bones rattling in a sack.
It reminded me of the traveler woman two years ago, the way her fortune bones had tumbled across my stall.
She’d pushed through the crowds to get to me, insisting that she tell my fortune.
I’d tried to send her away, but she wouldn’t leave until she’d spoken her prophecy, swearing that I’d be the queen of a prosperous kingdom.
I’d laughed until my sides hurt. Had she not noticed my threadbare dress or broken fingernails? I’d once dreamed of prosperity, of a full belly each night and enough coin to allow me to speak my mind, but it had vanished from my life for so long that I’d stopped believing in it.
But even as I’d laughed, I’d felt her magic tug at the world. Just like I’d felt that same tug yesterday, when my power slipped loose and twisted the Assembly’s attention around me like a snare.
Two years later, I was wearing the same dress I’d worn the day she’d thrown the bones. Except it hung off me now.
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and bent to weigh down the bundles of dried rosemary and lavender more neatly on my stall.
The usual spring crowd hoping for cheap fixes to their moods and marital problems had vanished.
No haggling housewives, no merchants sampling my wares—just sidelong glances and whispers slithering past me. Another day of slow business.
My worries about lost income disappeared the moment I sensed the executioner’s approach.
His magic felt like the thrum of something restless, a low hum vibrating just beneath the visible layer. I straightened from my busywork, hand stilling around a bundle of dried lavender, and looked up.
I immediately regretted it. He was heading my way, jaw clenched tight, carrying trauma and violence with him.
Today he had the look of a warrior. His broad shoulders were taut with barely contained power.
Each confident stride, bordering on arrogant, sent the sword at his hip swaying.
The hilt of his weapon was a display of ornate metalwork that could only have been shaped using magic. I’d been right; he was clearly wealthy.
I didn’t think it was the same sword he’d used to pour the guts of a man onto the ground.
Perhaps this weapon was his personal one, while the one he’d used before was an official arm of the Assembly’s justice.
The ruby sparkling on the pommel held a bit of magic of its own.
But the magic in the gem was nothing compared to the vast reserve rolling off his body like a heatwave.
Men like him didn’t bring salvation for women like me. Only trouble.
I doubted this stone-faced aristocrat was headed my way for a simple bundle of herbs or a pouch of tea. The butcher’s wife had been right about me. I was a jumpy bird, easily trapped by the smallest predator. So why had the Assembly sent a lion?
Except, again, this mage, this man wasn’t dressed like one of them.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he simply wanted to humiliate me for his own amusement.
Or something much worse.
A cold dread settled in my chest as I straightened my spine and put on my most polite smile.
Maybe I could make a profitable sale. I doubted he’d notice if I charged him triple the normal price for anything.
My farthest wish was unlikely—that he’d come to apologize or make amends for the disgusting display that had stripped me of sleep and a bit of my sanity.
But hope was a fragile thing, and anyone looking at this man could tell that he was built to break it. My only goal was to escape the impending interaction with my head still attached to my shoulders.
“Hello again, my lord,” I said, my head bowed, a sugary sweetness in my tone. Since I didn’t know his rank, lord was a safe, easy, all-purpose title I couldn’t go wrong with.
He casually tossed his red cloak over one shoulder. Those icy blue eyes looked me over for a long moment, lingering on my face and hands. It was like he’d expected to see bruises covering my exposed skin. But only shadows of exhaustion appeared under my eyes.
Was it possible I hadn’t been wrong? Could it truly have been him stalking the mercenaries the previous evening?
Without a corpse between us, he seemed even taller and more intimidating.
His expression, initially stony and unreadable, twisted into one of disdain as he looked down at my display.
The scar that bisected his full lips pulled one corner higher than the other, creating a lopsided scowl that I refused to flinch from.
“Herbs?” he asked, voice rough, as if unused to speech that wasn’t barking orders. “These are everywhere outside the city. A grift!”
I bristled immediately, drawing myself up. So, this executioner was a country lord who knew nothing of city life.
A peasant couldn’t afford the time or the energy to look for seasonings after their long workday. But the herbs made up only half of my stock, and my pricing was fair. The rest were tinctures infused with my magic.
“Depends,” I said lightly. “I wouldn’t be in business if I didn’t have customers.”
“So quick to bite back.” A ghost of a smile, or perhaps its opposite, briefly flickered across his angular features as he suspiciously eyed my iron pendant again. His fingers brushed a second bundle of dried lavender, careful not to break apart the brittle plant despite the contempt in his voice.
His fingers found the yarrow next.
“Yarrow helps with swelling and pain.” I wasn’t above trying to make a sale to a wealthy man, even if he was rude. Mama could use a new shawl. “I can make that into a poultice for you or your horse.”
“So, you peddle false comfort to fools,” he said. His blue eyes turned the color of a winter sky just before a storm.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call you a fool,” I murmured, lowering my voice further. “Not yet, anyway.”
His mouth twitched. “Flattery or insult? Careful, little merchant.”
Gods help me, I took in a sudden breath. He was handsome. Even his disdain couldn’t take away from it. That half-smile encouraged me to say more than I should have.
“I am careful,” I said. “You just don’t like the places I aim.”
Was I trying to get myself killed?
“I sell what helps,” I added as coolly as I could, given that inconveniently timed revelation. “Here, try a bit of this.”
I pulled out a tincture made of chamomile, lemon balm, and several other plants abundant in the area this time of year.
My empathic magic enhanced the mixture, increasing its calming potency.
I’d made it a few days ago for a returning customer to ease his worries, but it seemed this man needed it more urgently.
I’d been so distracted by what his presence might mean for me, by the sudden recognition of his attractiveness, that I hadn’t realized I felt no emotions from him once again.
He stood before me like an unfeeling statue.
There was some relief in that, but it also meant that I couldn’t read him—not a good thing if I wanted to keep myself safe.
While I knew this kind of magic was possible, I hadn’t experienced it much beyond a passing interaction with a few mages while visiting the fortress. My formal magical training had ended early because my parents couldn’t afford the tuition when there were too many mouths to feed.
If normal people could get through a conversation without reading the other person’s emotions, so could I.
I took a reinforcing breath and leaned toward him, batting my lashes. “A great man like you surely has a mountain of worries on his shoulders. This will help with that.”
To my great surprise, my not-so-subtle flattery caught his attention.
I was so far beneath him that I thought he’d pass off the compliment as his right.
But he stared at me in something like shocked astonishment for a long moment before tensing his jaw again.
It was like he wasn’t used to being flirted with.
“This looks like little more than leaves in a bottle.” His lip curled, mocking me. But his hand reached for the tincture to inspect it anyway.
The moment our fingertips brushed, he could feel my magic just as I could feel his. I’d never been to the Gelidian sea, but I imagined it felt like his power—so cold it burned, roiling with violent waves, and impossibly vast. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t hide from a man like this one.
The bottle hadn’t even fully left my hand when he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing to the bundle of lavender I still clutched to my chest like it would save me from him. His gaze sharpened, and the mocking curl of his lip faltered as if the joke had abruptly turned sour.
His fingers tightened around the bottle, and something else flickered in his eyes. It wasn’t confusion, but maybe surprise. Maybe…recognition?