Chapter 8 #2
"Pretty sure this isn't the market district. Unless people on Sero buy vegetables from places that look like they're about to host a murder."
"Maybe."
Damaris laughs. "Maybe," he echoes.
It takes me a second to realize I've actually answered him, my stomach tightening as my gaze catches on the building at the far end of the block rising beneath a carved black archway exactly where I remember it.
The Black Chapel.
For one stupid second, I wonder if he's inside.
And if he is, would he see me walking in?
The thought sends a fresh wave of heat through me. My multi-slate feels heavier in my pocket, those unanswered messages burning there between us.
i liked the way your freckles lit up when i touched you
"Ro?"
"What?"
Damaris follows my gaze down the street. "Okay, so either that's a church or we've accidentally wandered into the clubbing district."
I tear my eyes away from Black Chapel before I can do something stupid.
But as we start walking again, I catch the edge of the park path beside the building, remembering the way I ran through it with my pulse in my throat and Ciaran on my heels. Something cold slips down my spine.
"Hang on." Damaris glances farther down the street and brightens. "I know this place. We're close to the market."
I stare at him instead. "Wait. You know this place?"
"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his pockets as we start walking again. "Adrian brought me here a few days ago."
My stomach drops, and all I can think is that I wasn't the only one keeping things to myself.
Maybe that's unfair. Damaris doesn't owe me an accounting of every hour of his day. But something still twists in my chest at the thought of him wandering around the city with Adrian while I had no idea. "You went into Black Chapel?"
He rolls his eyes. "It's not nearly as dramatic as you're making it sound. It's basically a club. Kind of. With a lot more organized crime than I'd usually recommend."
"That is not a reassuring description. And it still doesn't explain why you were there."
Damaris laughs. "Adrian took me, and it was fine. Besides, I don't even need to go back."
I glance at him. "What does that mean?"
"It means I've already got enough credits for flour, coffee, and whatever else we find at the market." He rocks back on his heels. "So if you're worried I'm about to gamble away my life savings, relax."
I stop walking. "Dama."
"What?"
"Did you gamble?"
He lifts both hands, turning defensive the second he sees my face. "I made money, okay? Which is useful, because the market is just over there."
He points farther down the street toward the last open stalls, vendors already packing up for the day while I exhale through my nose, my thoughts scattering in every direction.
"You are impossible," I huff. But really, I can't believe he went to Black Chapel and never mentioned it. And with Adrian of all people. Light, that guy gives me the creeps.
Damaris grins. "And yet you still love me."
Before I can dodge him, he leans in and plants a loud kiss on my cheek.
I shove at his shoulder. "Go away."
He laughs and starts walking.
We've barely taken three steps before someone calls after us.
Adrian emerges from Black Chapel and heads straight for us. He looks rougher than he does on campus, with dark hair falling into his face and his shirt half open at the throat, like he's been here all day and only just remembered the sun still exists.
My friend lights up and practically jogs the last few steps while I follow slower.
Adrian catches him by the shoulder the second he reaches him, swaying enough that Damaris instinctively steadies him.
"You all right?"
Adrian shrugs. "Yeah. Just came from a party. Didn't you say you were going to the market?"
"We got lost," I say before Damaris can answer, tugging on his coat and starting to turn away. The last thing I want is to spend another minute standing outside Black Chapel.
Damaris doesn't budge, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm trying to get us moving. "Temporarily. But hey, I think I've found it again."
"After taking us on a scenic tour of the city."
Adrian huffs a laugh and glances my way. "Rowan, right?"
"I am."
"Thought so. Dama talks about you a lot."
Something small and irrational twists in my chest. Dama. That's my nickname for him.
Damaris perks up. "The market. The good coffee's going to be gone."
Adrian glances down the street. "I'll walk you."
"Don't you need to go sleep?"
"Probably. But half the food stalls down there are terrible." He runs a hand through his hair and jerks his chin farther down the road. "Come on, if you don't mind the company."
"Aren't you a gentleman." Damaris hooks an arm around my shoulders, hauling me down the street before I can object.
The market sprawls across half the district, packed with people, food stalls, and enough noise to make my head spin. Within seconds, Damaris is distracted by coffee, leaving me trailing behind him.
A familiar presence falls into step beside me. "I heard you've gotten friendly with the Virels."
"Excuse me?" I turn to find Adrian watching me with a look I can't quite read.
"The party." He shrugs. "People talk, you know? Especially when a talented Noctis player ends up giving a private concert to the academy's most feared mobster."
"I didn't…" My voice falters. I'm not sure what to say. Heat crawls up my neck, sending my attention toward Damaris, who's currently trying to convince a vendor to lower the price of something he absolutely doesn't need.
"Just be careful."
Something in his voice makes me look back, only to catch his gaze resting on Damaris before it drifts toward the crowds.
"Why do you say that?"
"The Virels. The Orlovs. All of them." A humorless smile touches his mouth. "People like that have a way of getting what they want."
For a second he looks older than he does on campus. Then the expression disappears.
Ahead of us, Damaris waves a bag triumphantly in the air. "Coffee!"
A little later, Adrian takes us to a narrow place tucked between two older buildings, barely more than a counter and a handful of tables.
The food is cheap, hot, and better than anything we've eaten on campus all week.
Damaris spends most of the meal talking about the market, the coffee, and the ingredients he's convinced are going to change our lives while I pick at my food and listen.
By the time we step back outside, the golden light has softened, the market beginning to thin out as vendors pack away crates and stack empty boxes. The bags at our feet are heavier than they were an hour ago, and the drag of the day finally catches up with me.