Chapter 2
AUDRYN
Fae flooded the marketplace, their arms filled with sacks of produce, breads, and other necessities. Only the wealthy had enough money to purchase the luxuries of scented soaps, faerie wine, and dyed fabrics. Most barely scraped up enough coin to feed their families.
“Is this all that’s left?” Jezelle inventoried the near-empty crates on my cart. “You hardly saved anything for me.”
“You’re late.” I shrugged and eyed those within earshot. “I can only assume that’s because you were getting what I asked for.”
“As I’ve told you,” she huffed, “I only have access to so much intel. I’ve even asked those with higher clearance, and I’m still coming up empty.”
I palmed a tomato, tossed it into the air, and caught it.
If I didn’t keep my hands busy, I might’ve strangled her out of pure frustration.
Six months had passed since I’d made my request, and she clearly hadn’t taken it seriously.
It didn’t even matter that I’d offered her a week’s worth of wages in return.
And with two jobs, the money would have been enough for her and her family to live off of for several months.
“When I get a name, you’ll be the first to know.” Her finger traced the curve of a melon.
“Don’t think I’m foolish enough to believe that for a second,” I snapped. “We both know you’ll run to Jaspar first.”
“Don’t you think the resis—” She lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Don’t you think we want to know just as much as you do?
We’ve been trying for years. Before you even cared.
And now you expect us to just have a name because you’ve finally been affected?
Not to sound callous, but we’ve all been suffering far longer than you. ”
She was partly right. I cared little about King Sutton and his henchmen until they trampled my life and took everything. I’d been stewing over their abhorrent antics after I lost my brother, but losing my mother was the final straw, and I could no longer stand idly by.
“Was there something you wanted to purchase?” I tilted my head and restlessly played with my long brown strands. “Or did you just want to waste my time?”
She tentatively eyed the produce, taking her time and testing my patience.
Rarely had my offerings changed, and when they did, it was simply an additional variety of fruit or vegetable or a reduction of a less popular item.
Tapping my foot on the ground, I scanned upward, watching the light blue canopies ripple in the salty coastal breeze.
“I don’t have any coin,” Jezelle said, looking over the items and not letting her eyes fall on mine, “but I have this.” She reached into her bag and partially pulled a bottle of wine out, letting it quickly dip back down.
“And who was that stolen from?” It wasn’t like I cared; anyone with enough money not to realize the bottle was missing probably didn’t appreciate the burgundy liquid anyhow. And theft by members of the resistance occurred as often as I laced up my boots.
“My parents need food,” she barked, “interested or not?”
Despite her attitude, her eyes remained sad.
She looked over the goods once more, and her mouth nearly salivated.
Whether she needed the food for herself or her parents didn’t matter.
For all I cared, she could pass it out to those in need from her group of misfits.
There was no need for anyone to go hungry, even if I despised them.
Especially since I would just replenish my supply later.
“I’ve never seen a bottle I wasn’t interested in.” I gestured with a hand. “Take whatever you need.” Her eyes met mine. “For your parents or whoever else you need to feed.”
For a moment, her eyes welled, threatening to betray her tough exterior. She drew in a breath, straightened her back, and schooled her features again. She handed me the bottle, the partially peeled label displaying a section of Rivale’s sigil.
“Sutton’s vineyard?” I gasped, knowing the punishment for carrying the item would likely be death.
“Would you like to make an official declaration to everyone here?” She gawked. “Maybe send out a bulletin?” Jezelle looked around as if she were about to be arrested for the crime.
Shaking my head, I tucked the bottle into the wooden compartment in the underbelly of my cart and gestured once more to my remaining produce—a silent invitation to rummage through the lingering orphans.
“I’m sold out.” Benton moved to my side and flicked his chin to his empty bread cart. “You almost done over here?”
Before I could respond, a familiar shrill voice interrupted, one I’d unfortunately known longer than anyone should have to endure. My mood instantly soured as I turned to meet the blonde-haired woman’s face.
“What do you need, Maris?” I asked, trying to ignore the emerald jewel dangling from the gold chain around her neck. My hatred for her outweighed my love for the craftsmanship of beautiful jewelry.
She pursed her lips. “Is that any way to speak to a paying customer?” Her brown eyes swung to Jezelle, whose bag was beginning to overflow with produce. “You’d think you’d appreciate someone actually paying for things around here.”
“Don’t you have people to do your shopping for you?” Benton spat. “Why must we be tormented by your presence?”
My cheeks dimpled; he hated her just as much as I did. And with no guards in sight, my friend wasn’t about to shy away from a bit of conflict.
“Unfortunately, your husband is otherwise occupied,” Maris jeered.
She might be from the same neighborhood as Benton and me, but she outranked us in wealth and status.
Her home sat on the nearby hilltop, looking down from its pitched roof as it and the people within judged all of us below.
Anyone with so much land and the means to employ a full staff, had much more than I did, even at the height of my family’s affluence.
“Orion might make your clothes, but he certainly does not do your bidding,” Benton countered.
He’d always been a little insecure about working in the service industry and was fiercely protective of his husband.
She was lucky he was too kind to raise a hand or a sword to a woman, because her implications were worthy of a fight.
Considering the income Orion earned from Maris’s family alone, he likely wouldn’t risk such an altercation.
The pale woman eyed the cart and placed a handful of green beans, five potatoes, and two tomatoes into her bag.
She laid down a pile of coins on the narrow shelf of my cart and began walking away.
There was too much money abandoned for the items she’d selected, but it was trivial compared to the amount of wealth her family amassed.
“You’ve overpaid.” I raised my voice in Maris’s direction. “Take your change!” I left several coins on the shelf.
She paused and slowly turned to me. “I know you and your crippled father need the charity. Keep it.”
Her words cut like a dagger, penetrating into a tender piece of my flesh. My body tensed, fingers piercing into the skin of the tomato I’d been holding. The juice dripped through the webs of my hand, mimicking my blood oozing out from its skin.
Jezelle, who was still standing nearby, shouted an insult right as I chucked the tomato at the back of Maris’s head. Only it didn’t land against the back of her head. She turned to respond at the exact moment the fruit hit its mark, smashing into her hairline and staining her golden locks crimson.
The red innards of the fruit dripped down her freckled face and onto the front of her pale blue dress. She stood in disbelief, chest heaving from the attack. Deliberately, she mopped the contents from her skin and flung them onto the floor.
“I didn’t need your help!” I yelled at Jezelle. The back of someone’s head was less personal than their face, and I didn’t need to initiate a war with the Faldor family.
“Did you have to ruin the dress too?” Benton joked under his breath, “Orion probably spent hours making it.”
“Tell him I said you’re welcome,” I retorted, accepting my demise. “Whatever I can do to help business stay steady.”
The entire market had come to a halt, watching the scene play out in the middle of the square. We’d always pitched passive-aggressive remarks at one another, but never escalated to physical assault. My family’s name already had enough attention.
My eyes shot to the stalled crowd, and I realized they weren’t at all occupied with my escapades, but were focused on the four guards standing at the perimeter of the square. Preparing for a fight, my body tensed—the uniforms had become an enemy flag.
“What are they doing here?” A male voice in the crowd muttered behind me.
“I hear they’re searching for a new batch of ladies for Prince Sutton. Apparently, he still hasn’t found anyone worthy enough to marry,” a female voice mocked.
“Or maybe he just enjoys testing out as many women as possible,” the male quipped. “Can’t blame him for that.”
The guards divided into pairs and moved through the crowd, stopping only to speak with the women.
“You’d think he’d at least try to find his own wife. How can he put so much trust in his goons to make that decision for him?” I wondered aloud, “What if the women they choose aren’t even his type?”
“Why leave the castle when you can have someone do it for you?” the male remarked. “It’s like having breakfast in bed—why go to any effort when you could have someone serve it to you while you’re warm under the blankets? Besides, all pussy is nearly the same anyhow.”
“Scoundrel!” Jezelle spat at the old man.
The guards made their way through the market, passing out squares of aquamarine blue paper to several women. Recipients grinned the moment the parchment was in their hands.
“I heard the prince doesn’t even have magic,” Benton said. “Maybe that’s why he can’t find anyone to marry.”
I smacked Benton on his shoulder. “You’re such a gossip! As if a Royal wouldn’t have magic!”