Chapter 26
The following morning, Robin walked through the crowded marketplace at the heart of the capital city.
Despite the general sense of fear and panic that seemed to permeate every social gathering and conversation in light of the Return, the Iseldans still managed to come out in full colors for the ritual of the harvestreign festival.
Perhaps Gareth’s presence at the castle was giving them hope.
Robin’s stomach twisted at the thought, and she focused on her next goal.
Her ears rang with the sounds of conversation, music, and shouting vendors filling the open marketplace around her. The smells of roasted meat and charred nuts floated across the stench of the sweating crowd.
Colorful awnings rose above her head, lining the buildings and beckoning to passersby with signs of food, drink, and wares.
For a moment, Robin relished the normalcy of it all. The excitement of a group of people coming together to celebrate something, anything.
But then the crowd in front of her parted, and people jumped out of the way as a group of soldiers sauntered down the center of the street toward her.
Wearing the purple livery of Chendas, the men shouted loudly, already deep in the mugs of ale they held aloft.
As if this was their festival, or their kingdom.
Robin wanted to stand her ground, to force them to part around her instead of moving out of their way. But now was not the time to be noticed. Grimacing to herself, she stepped aside with the rest of the Iseldans, giving the soldiers their right of way.
The group of soldiers continued on.
Avoiding the notice of soldiers and guards was nothing new for Robin, but as she watched the Chendas men continue to press the crowd, she thought back to previous festivals.
She could not recall the Iseldan soldiers ever controlling the street in such a way.
They had been loud, but so had been everyone else.
They tended to move through the festival as though they were a part of it, not to dominate it.
Moving further up the street, Robin made her way toward the open green hill above the city where the archery competition was held each year.
When she passed by a tavern, she heard a familiar boisterous laugh coming from the rooftop balcony above her.
She looked up to see Lane standing against the rail with a group of young noblemen.
He wore a tailored green jacket that was far fancier than his usual garb.
Perfect. As the younger son of a wealthy Iseldan merchant, Lane had a wide network of friends and acquaintances in the city.
He had created an image for himself of being the comfortable, empty-headed rich boy who spent his time traveling.
This allowed him to continue to move amongst the noble class on occasion and learn valuable information for Robin.
As she turned up the main street out of the city square, she saw Jette standing behind a small food cart.
“Sweet breads!” Jette called, her deep voice resonating across the busy street.
Ulli was quietly providing her with hot stones to warm the bread basket, letting the tempting aroma of the bread waft out into the crowd.
Robin walked past, sending her friends a quick smile but not stopping.
In the lower end of the city, Nele would be posing as an overlooked pickpocket. Relying on her young features to appear small and forgettable, she would be listening, blending in, and taking the occasional coin. Every year she tried to increase her profits.
As Robin neared the green hill, she saw an excited group gathered outside another nearby tavern. Fletcher would be inside, gathering bets on who would win the archery tournament.
The archery tournament was held in the expanse between the castle on the hill and the city below. She needed to find the organizer’s tent and put her name into the contestant circle before the rounds began.
Her head felt tight from the braids in her hair.
She had dressed herself to look like an Etrarian woman to match her curved bow.
Her borrowed clothing was different enough that she was drawing stares, but not so different that anyone was truly giving her a second glance.
She expected the archers of Iseldis to get angry when she bested their scores during their own summer festival, but she would enjoy their ire.
Ian would applaud for her, even if she was beating him. She smiled, enjoying the image even as she reminded herself that she did not care what Ian thought about her.