35. Chapter 35
Lunette
The crowd parted for Owain and me as we made our way to the doors of the Great Hall. We exited together to see Reina waiting in the corridor. She watched us with an unexpected gentleness.
“I’ve come to take Lunette on a tour,” she announced.
“Told you,” Owain said, a smirk playing on his lips as he angled his face closer. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils then made the quietest sound of almost carnal pleasure in the back of his throat. Was he…smelling me?
I didn’t dare turn my head to look at him when he was this close. I’d do the unthinkable—and in public.
The hall behind us still hummed with the sounds of soldiers leaving, their weapons clanking as they flowed out on a wave of masculine energy. “See you tonight, moonlight,” he whispered, relinquishing his hold on me as Reina’s vise-like fingers gripped mine and pulled me swiftly away.
Even as I followed, wariness settled in.
We wove through the bright corridors, followed by a few guards and fur-clad servants.
At the castle steps, another line of armed guards awaited us, helms crested in Larethia’s forest green and gold.
Horses stamped their hooves impatiently against the chill, breaths forming clouds in the pale autumn air.
I couldn’t help but notice that two were fitted with side saddles.
“So,” I said, lifting a brow as a groom steadied a dappled gelding, “what do I need to do to help with this charade?”
The corner of Reina’s mouth curved, though her dark purple eyes remained unreadable. “Go shopping.”
The image of trunk after trunk parading into my room flitted through my mind. What could we possibly need to shop for?
Before I could ask, she grabbed a heavy cloak from a waiting servant and draped it over my shoulders. Its fur was dense and smooth, and white as freshly fallen snow. It looked like it was from one of the great bears said to roam the frozen islands off the coast of northern Gelida.
The fur enveloped me the way I imagined those bears devoured their prey—completely, and without leaving any trace of what had been visible.
The hood was large enough to fall in waves around my shoulders—protection from the rain and inspection by passersby.
Its weight trapped warmth next to my skin, stifling some of my anxiety beneath it.
In other words, it was exactly what I needed at that moment. Thank the gods for a meddling aunt.
With a bit of help from a footman, I mounted the docile mare assigned to me without embarrassing myself overly much. I wasn’t used to moving in such heavy fabrics or with so much jewelry on.
But Reina didn’t have the same problem. After a surge of magic, she was ascending a set of conjured black steps to claim her seat with her usual grace.
“Nice trick,” I said light-heartedly.
Reina grinned.
Was I interested in being paraded about? No. But I did want to see more of the Tir. I’d always wanted to see life outside the tiny villages of the borderlands. I just never imagined it would happen like this—stuck somewhere between obligation and the most freedom I’d ever had.
Even as we left the keep, I could still feel the warmth from being so close to Owain. My hand still felt the shape of his solid arm. It felt as if I’d borrowed some of Owain’s steadiness and forgotten to give it back.
With a low groan, the heavy iron gates swung open.
The horses stepped forward in a line, filling the air with the metallic clinking of armor as our guards shifted their weight, their steel greaves bumping against saddles and sword hilts striking breastplates.
A shiver of excitement pulsed through me, vying with my anxiety for control.
Seeing the drawbridge up close that I’d only heard of in fairy tales decided the first battle over my emotions.
Like a great wooden tongue lolling from the castle’s gaping maw, the bridge spanned the moat that surrounded the heart of the Tir.
Beneath the clomping hooves, dark water lazed beside stone pillars.
I imagined the monsters the depths of a shadow prince’s home would harbor and smiled, knowing he’d slay any that became a problem.
Once out of the castle’s shadow, the sun’s golden light filtered down, showering Larethia with all the warmth it could muster so late in the year. The air bit at my cheeks and tried to slip its icy fingers into the loose strands of my hair, but the cloak held fast against the worst of it.
As we made our way deeper into the Tir, the air thickened with smoke from a thousand different hearths. But that couldn’t stifle the subtle saltiness of the eastern sea carried in on the breeze. I imagined I could almost see the ocean on the horizon. Maybe one day I would.
Narrow streets twisted between stone and timber houses with clay-tiled roofs.
Every open area was packed with market stalls or displays.
A few colorful awnings were dyed using the rich purple hues of leftover grape skins from the recent harvest; the rest were more subdued shades of rust and ochre to match the tile roofs.
City life was more, and yet also less, organized than I’d expected.
People pressed shoulder to shoulder—fishmongers, farmers, mothers with babes bound to their chests, boys darting between carts and groups traveling together.
A few furtive, watchful glances were sent my way at the outset, only to be expected when traveling with an armed contingent.
But then, like a stone dropped in water, the awareness spread outward. Whispers followed us as our horses walked down the city streets. It didn’t take long for anxiety to rise victorious from the second battle for my emotions.
This display felt different than it had at the warrior’s luncheon.
These people were mostly peasants—people just like me.
I pulled the hood forward until it swallowed my face too, grateful for its thickness.
My clothes felt like paper against so many eyes, as though they could pierce through wool and fur, flesh and bone, to the reserve of magic thrumming beneath my skin.
Yet the few whispers I heard were full of awe, not scorn.
Beside me, Reina rode as though she’d long ago grown accustomed to being watched. Though after a while, I noticed that her eyes never settled on the people who were looking at her. They moved instead over rooftops and doorways, down alleys, across the faces of those who weren’t watching.
She was cataloguing everything the way a person did when they’d learned that danger rarely announces itself. I couldn’t help but wonder what it had cost her to learn that. Much of her softness, at the very least.
Eventually, at her curt command, the column slowed and halted before a narrow stone building wedged between a baker’s shop and a seller of imported cloth. Above the door hung a carved wooden sign gilded in freshly painted gold leaf that read Tir Jewelers: Finest in Larethia.
Four armed guards stood outside, hands resting lightly on their sword pommels. But seeing the green and gold of the royal household, they quickly relaxed.
This time, Reina conjured a set of stairs for me to dismount. Grateful, I followed her inside, servants trailing us like ghosts. It seemed excessive to have so many, but I suspected some were actually covert bodyguards.
The shop’s interior was dim but rich, lit by beeswax candles that pooled golden light across polished wood.
Heavy trunks, carved with intricate patterns, were open atop tables and displaying various treasures: ropes of pearls, brooches shaped like clusters of grapes, chains of gold so fine they seemed spun from sunlight itself.
The shopkeeper behind the counter snapped her head up the instant Reina crossed the threshold. Without hesitation, she dismissed the lone customer in the store. No apology softened her tone; no explanation was offered. The shopper gathered her things and fled.
Was this the power of the royal family or just Reina? The door closed behind us, dimming the noise of the Tir to a distant murmur.
Reina inclined her head. “Good afternoon, Mireille.”
Mireille, the jeweler, was a willowy woman whose iron-gray hair was meticulously coiled at the nape of her neck. Her gown was a deep indigo that was simple in style, yet the fabric hinted at wealth.
The moment her eyes met mine, I was immediately pulled in by their sharp, deeply assessing focus. My magic brushed hers and found a strong, steady flow, not a weak, fleeting spark. She was a full mage.
The moment broke when my ears popped.
The ward of silence Reina cast wrapped around us, further muting our surroundings and making the faint street noise disappear completely.
“We’re here to shop for Lady Lunette,” Reina said smoothly. “But more importantly, for this.”
She reached into a hidden pocket within her skirts and withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle. Even before she extended it across the counter, a prickle of warning ran down my spine.
Mireille’s fingers darted out. Awe threading her voice, she asked, “Did you bring me something special, Duchess?”
“You’ll certainly think so, but have a care with it,” Reina warned softly.
The final fold of cloth fell away, revealing the ring Owain had taken from the mercenary. Even from across the counter, I could feel the hum of the spellwork woven into it.
My feet shuffled restlessly.
Mireille’s gaze shifted back to me then. “So,” she said, lips curving, “this is the lady everyone’s speaking of.”
Everyone?
I’d scarcely been in the Tir for days, and I’d left the castle only now, cloaked and guarded. How could word have already spread beyond its walls?
Neatly redirecting her attention back to the ring, Reina said quietly, “Our theory is that it detects Fae blood.”
Mireille hesitated only a fraction of a second before sliding the heavy ring onto her finger. She sucked in a breath, and her wrist strained to the right as though an invisible thread bound it to me. “Pulling strongly toward the lady and you, Reina.”