54. Durvla
Durvla
After another week on the road, the village of Glinrew surprises us with a vibrant open market.
The dirt roads are strewn with a multitude of vendors and villagers, the air thick with assorted aromas.
My legs can’t decide whether to be grateful for the break from horseback or provoked by having to walk.
At least we’ve managed to stay ahead of the Forayers—there hasn’t been any sign of them lately.
We reluctantly leave our horses at a stable, and Alys generously tips the stable hands.
Walking through the streets, we’re among vendors selling textiles and produce, wood crafts, and metalwork.
I walk between Alys and Kilkenny with Osheen and Chiyo a few paces ahead.
They’re chatting, as usual, Chiyo nudging Osheen with her elbow and laughing at something he says in response.
Something tugs in my chest. I used to have that sort of easygoing relationship with him.
“So, your husband is a rebel,” I say to Alys, hoping to distract myself.
Alys smiles, tugging loose waves of her thick salt-and-pepper hair beneath the colorful headscarf she wears. I focus on her mouth, back to fully relying on lipreading. “Yes. He’s second-in-command, in fact.”
I stare at her, wide-eyed. I want to ask so much more about the rebellion and the chain of command. But more importantly, I want to learn about Alys and her family. “How long have you two been apart?”
“I last saw him very briefly probably a year ago. We met up in Darragh for a night. He was a tradesman from Moicriach but has been in the Verge for about seven years by now.”
“Seven years?”
Alys nods. “Yes, about as long as I’ve been the head healer at Paramount. Before that, we lived in Moicriach and then Darragh … With our daughter.”
I stop walking. “You have a daughter, too? How old? And how long have you and your husband been married? Too many questions?”
Alys laughs. “She’s twenty-six. A woman grown by now.
My husband and I were together when I gave birth, then we separated.
We didn’t reconcile until Ava was about ten years old, but we’ve been thick as thieves since then.
Being away from them is hard, but necessary.
When we can, we exchange notes via enchanted parchment. ”
I hope that my next words come out as quietly as I intend. “Enchanted parchment?”
Alys smiles and nods.
Gods, there’s so much I don’t know about magic. “Alys, you must be the greatest spy of all time.”
She laughs.
“The name that Haruka called you: Elviera … Is that your real name?”
“My birth name, rather. When I moved here as a child, I took up a new name to fit in with my friends. At this stage in my life, I’m as much Alys as I am Elviera.”
“Where were you born?”
“Balghero. It’s a land far south of Erleya.
My parents were from even farther away. To the east. My grandparents and the generations before lived a nomadic life, but my parents decided to settle in this new land.
I’m so very glad they did, as I got to meet all of you.
” She smiles and winks at me, and my lips curve up.
“Do you miss Balghero?” I ask her.
“Sometimes.”
Ahead of us, Chiyo grabs Osheen’s hand and drags him to a vendor selling weapons.
Beside me, Kilkenny follows his sister’s movements.
His jaw is set, his body rigid. We pause, but Osheen glances back at us from where Chiyo is chatting animatedly with the blacksmith.
He gestures vaguely and mouths something that I can’t make out.
Kilkenny faces me. “He says we can go on without them.”
I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to separate, but we’ve already agreed to meet up at the stables before nightfall if we do lose track of each other.
Not long after we’ve separated from Osheen and Chiyo, my stomach sinks with a sudden thought.
We left Carys all alone with powers that she doesn’t know how to control.
I’m at least with people who understand what it’s like to possess an ability that could literally get me killed, and it’s still terrifying for me.
My body begins to thrum with nervous energy, my hands tingling.
Kilkenny gives me a questioning look, but I turn to Alys again. “Does your husband also have powers?” I ask her as we follow the dirt road around a bend that leads to yet more vendors.
“No, he’s Ordinary, but absolutely extraordinary if you ask me.”
I can’t help but giggle at the enamored glaze that comes over her face. “Extraordinary in looks or personality or both?” I ask with a grin.
She laughs. “Both.”
Her smile remains, but the faraway look on her face is one I’ve seen before. I just can’t pinpoint it.
We walk a bit further, moving through the crowds and past various vendors. “What’s your husband’s name?” I ask Alys.
“Dayfyd,” she says with that dreamy expression again.
I giggle. “Alright, now you have to tell me what he looks like, because I can tell you’re picturing him.”
She laughs freely, her teeth bright against her smooth mahogany skin.
“He’s very handsome. His eyes are a gorgeous hazel green.
I remember so clearly when I first met him, I was lost in his eyes.
It turns out, he was lost in mine.” She smiles sadly, but then something catches her attention.
A stall with colorful fabrics like the scarf she has tied around her hair.
“Those are stunning. You lovelies go ahead. I can use a new scarf.” She winks at me and walks toward the stall.
As I turn my attention back to the path, a delicious aroma wafts into my nostrils, making my mouth water. My stomach gurgles, and Kilkenny glances at me with an arched brow. “Hungry?”
I hadn’t noticed it until now but … “Starving.”
He nods to a stall up ahead where little wisps of smoke rise into the air.
The aroma grows stronger as we approach a stand where a man with tanned skin and white hair turns some kind of brown meat on a stick over a fire.
Beef, by the scent. My stomach growls again as Kilkenny has a chat with the man.
There are so many people here, both shoppers and tradesmen alike.
Chiyo and Osheen are nowhere in sight, but we all know where to meet each other later.
Happening upon this market was a godsend—something so comfortingly typical to distract us from the fact that we’re running for our lives.
We can’t stay here long, but with so many people here, it would be hard for Forayers to find us in the crowd.
Though, that didn’t work out so well for the villagers of Dubh Carrig … My stomach twists uncomfortably.
Kilkenny gently nudges me before handing me a skewer of meat.
I take it, and steam wafts off the charred beef.
The aroma is sinfully delicious, and I lick my lips, restraining myself from biting right into it and burning my mouth.
Kilkenny, however, has no such restraint.
Before I know it, he’s huffing and puffing and fanning at his mouth.
I burst into laughter, and he fixes me with a stare that only makes me laugh more.
Alys catches up with us. “That looks delicious … What happened to you?” She smiles as she points to Kilkenny and lifts her brows in a question.
“Kilkenny was too impatient to wait for his meat to cool,” I explain.
Alys chuckles and digs coins out of her pocket to pay the vendor for her own chunk of beef. “Those sellers I found are from my homeland, Balghero, so we’re just having a chat,” she says. “I’ll meet up with you all later, alright?”
“Alright.” Kilkenny responds at the same time as I do.
It’s a little uncomfortable meandering through the market after being continuously on the run for over a week. I keep catching myself glancing around for signs of danger.
Kilkenny isn’t any less paranoid, his shoulders tense as he blows on the meat and takes another bite. He glances at me. “Eat.”
I blow on my own beef before taking a cautious bite. It’s still hot, but so packed with flavor that it’s worth the pain. “Delicious,” I mumble around the mouthful.
Kilkenny nods in agreement and takes another bite. “Do you have a favorite food?” he asks me after he finishes his bite.
I purse my lips. Do I? “Osheen’s grandmother makes the most delicious sourdough bread. Even more delicious than the bread at Paramount.”
“That sounds impressive.”
“It is. And what about you? What’s your favorite food?”
“Spicy beef stew.”
“Oh, I had some during the festival. It is delicious.”
He nods and rips off another hunk of meat with his teeth. No palace manners to be found, and it somehow makes me smile. I don’t realize that I’m staring at him until his brows lower and he slows his pace even more. “What is it?” he asks, concern etched into his forehead.
“Oh. Nothing.” I shake my head. We turn onto a grassy pathway. This one is lined on either side with tents and semi-covered stands. “It’s just … You’re so different than you were back in Paramount.”
He turns forward, stoic Kilkenny once again. As though I called his palace personality back into being.
“I mean that I like seeing you be more natural. In Paramount, you hardly ever smiled. Truly smiled. Or laughed. I thought you were nothing but arrogant and intimidating back there.”
His brows lift. “Arrogant, I’ll accept, but intimidating?”
I shrug. “Well, you did force me to hit you by taunting me.”
He smirks and it’s every bit arrogant, but it makes me laugh lightly.
I munch on my meat skewer as we continue our leisurely pace.
There are so many scents—perfumes, soaps, flowers, that the meat starts to taste a bit questionable.
I look around, hoping to find ale or something to wash down the food.
Kilkenny eyes the meat in my hand and when he directly faces me again, he asks, “Are you going to finish that?” His skewer is empty now. I hand mine to him—there’s still quite a bit of meat left.