14. Chapter 14 #3
We continue into the market district, and any question I might have asked gets swallowed by the noise.
The lower city is nothing like the palace.
It is darker, yes, built from the same black stone, but it is not cold in the same way.
Color exists here, vivid and intentional.
Crimson awnings hang above spice stalls.
Blue glass lanterns swing from iron hooks and strips of dyed cloth flutter between buildings.
Vendors call out prices over the clatter of hooves and wheels, attempting to attract customers.
Even the vendors here are dressed nicely, and their carts look nice.
Not worn and littered with junk like the ones in Elvora.
Further along the road, someone plays a stringed instrument with a bright, quick rhythm that cuts through the gray morning like laughter.
The smells hit me next. Fresh bread and charred meat that makes my mouth water. The spices are sharp enough to make my nose sting. There is so much life here it overwhelms my senses; I almost feel dizzy with it.
I slow my stride, taking it all in. Contrary to everything I expected, Andell is alive. Not in the way Lycar is, but alive nonetheless. The curse hangs over the city like a permanent storm, yet its people carry on because they have learned to live beneath it.
The kingdom’s capital is not the nightmare I was told it was, and that might be the cruelest thing about it. Nightmares are easier to hate when they behave as you expect them to. This—nothing could have prepared me for this.
“You are quiet today,” Onyx says.
“I’m taking it all in, that’s all.” I say, turning my head to admire everything around us.
Onyx responds with a low sound somewhere between a hum and a grunt. We stop near a stall selling round cakes glazed with honey. The smell is so distracting and familiar that I nearly bump into Onyx.
“Are those honeycakes?” I ask, unable to hide the excitement in my voice. Otto's honeycakes back in Lycar were legendary, and finding something even remotely similar might be the best thing that's happened to me since arriving in Andell.
“Yes, they are,” he says as a knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Without asking, Onyx steps over to the vendor, exchanges a few coins for two honeycakes, then returns and offers one to me.
I stare at it for a heartbeat before looking back at him. “Thank you, Onyx!” I give him a bright grin in return. I do love honey cakes.
“They aren’t as good as Otto’s, but they are delicious nonetheless.”
I take the warm honeycake, inhaling the familiar scent of honey and cinnamon that rises with the steam, tugging at memories of Lycar.
I bite into the cake and immediately close my eyes.
It is warm, sweet and absolutely delicious.
Gods, this is the best thing I’ve tasted in the kingdom so far.
Soft in the center, with honey sticking to my fingers.
Not as good as Ottos, no, but it’s definitely up there.
Onyx watches me devour the treat with a faintly amused expression.
“If you laugh,” I warn around the bite, “I will throw this at you.”
“No, you won’t.”
I narrow my eyes. “You underestimate my commitment to spite.”
“You like it too much. I know you wouldn’t dare waste a honeycake by throwing it at me.”
He’s right, which makes me furious. I take another bite.
Riven mutters something behind us.
I turn with my mouth full. “Did you say something? Where are my manners, do you want a bite?”
His eyes widen for the briefest moment before dropping to the honeycake in my hand. “No, my lady.”
I frown. I don't understand why he looks so alarmed. It was rude of me not to offer, but that wouldn’t warrant the fear in his eyes.
Beside me, Onyx goes still. It's such a subtle shift that anyone else might miss it, but I'm beginning to understand his movement.
It is a language in and of itself. The way his shoulders square.
The quiet that settles over him. The way his presence sharpens before his voice ever does.
Something passed between them. Something I missed.
“Riven.”
The sound of his name from Onyx is enough, because Riven immediately straightens.
“Apologize to Lady Tarethyn.”
Riven's jaw flexes. “Captain?”
Onyx turns fully toward him, his expression cold and unforgiving.
“I heard exactly what you muttered." His voice is calm enough to make my skin prickle. "Do not mistake my silence for ignorance.”
The market seems to quiet around us. I look back and forth between both men, wondering what he could have said to gain this reaction from Onyx.
“Apologize,” he repeats. “Or I will cut your tongue out.”
A faint tremor passes through Riven before he buries it.
What did I miss?
For Onyx to react like this, whatever Riven said couldn't have been harmless.
Riven finally looks at me, resentment burning behind his carefully polished expression.
“Forgive me, Lady Tarethyn.”
I consider him for a long moment. Then I smile.
“No.”
His composure cracks. “...No?”
“No, Riven. I do not forgive you.”
His brows draw together as his mouth hangs open. He turns the color of a bright red tomato, and I suppress the urge to laugh.
“But I apologized, Lady Tarethyn.”
“It didn't sound sincere. So your apology is shit.”
For a heartbeat, no one speaks. I shrug.
“What? Whatever you said, you're clearly not sorry for it.”
Riven looks moments away from saying something that will undoubtedly lose him his tongue. Onyx, the complete shit-stirrer that he is, looks suspiciously amused.
“Try again,” he commands.
Riven closes his eyes for the briefest moment before trying once more. “My apologies, Lady Tarethyn.”
This apology sounds better. Not because he means it, but because humiliation has a way of sanding down arrogance.
“Wonderful. Could you please stand somewhere else?” I gesture vaguely into the distance. “Farther. Keep going.”
Riven clenches his jaw hard enough that I wonder if he'll crack a tooth, but he obeys. Without another word, he stalks toward the opposite end of the market until he's well out of earshot.
I wait another moment before turning back to Onyx.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why? Whatever he said, I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”
He doesn't answer immediately. His eyes hold mine for a long moment before he finally says, “because people here need to understand you are not to be disrespected.” His voice is steady. “And you should never have to accept it.”