Cast in Secrets and Shadow

by Andrea Robertson

  “The market is divided by types of wares.” Teth had to shout over the din. “Weavers and tailors are in the southern quarter, blacksmiths and jewelers in the northern, tanners and fur traders in the western, and the leftovers in the eastern. Food and drink are scattered throughout the market, though a good number are concentrated in a square adjacent to the pavilion. There are also legacy vendors who have coveted places within the pavilion. Those belong to the makers and merchants who have sold their wares in the Great Market for the longest time and purportedly have the finest goods.”

  It wasn’t surprising that places in the pavilion were the most vied for. The immense marble structure gleamed white amid the patchwork of colors created by tents, wagons, and banners and loomed above everything else in the Great Market.

  “So we’ll be in the east with the leftovers?” Ara asked. She drew a sharp breath as Lahvja was jostled by a pair of men carrying a large crate between them, but the summoner had no trouble soothing the horses and keeping pace with their wagon.

  “Yes,” Teth replied. “And that’s a good thing. The eastern quarter has the most turnover of merchants and isn’t tied to any guilds. Our arrival shouldn’t be conspicuous.”

  “That’s good,” Ara said, then asked, “Do you expect we’ll actually have customers?”

  She balked at the idea of frequent interactions with buyers and other vendors, but Teth grinned.

  “We’d better. Haggling is one of my favorite pastimes. I’m very good at it. In fact, depending on how long we’re here, I expect to make a tidy profit.”

  Ara scoffed at him. “I can’t believe you’d even think about that.”

  “I’m a thief, Ara dearest. I live for the clink of shiny coins.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  She laughed and shook her head, fondly resting her hand on his forearm without thinking about it. As soon as she touched his sun-warmed skin, her pulse was afire. She knew she should snatch her hand back, but she couldn’t seem to move.

  Teth’s eyes found hers, and Ara felt herself sinking into the amber depths of his irises. He held her gaze longer than he should have, and her breath caught. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Nimhea had said.

  What if she’d gotten this all wrong? Her heart longed to believe that, but her mind wasn’t convinced, and she didn’t know if it ever could be.

  Finally able to pull her hand and eyes away from him, Ara laced her traitor fingers together. She bit her lip and stared straight ahead.

  I need to talk to him. Soon. Going on like this was unbearable and unfair to both of them.

  Teth returned his attention to the horses and didn’t continue their conversation.

  The overwhelming noise of the market suddenly seemed like nothing in comparison to the silence between them, and Ara could do nothing to stop the gnawing ache in her belly.

  * * *

  It took half an hour to make their way from the entrance of the Great Market to their allotted space in the eastern quarter. The leftovers, as Teth had described the vendors assigned to this quarter, were a hodgepodge of merchants, with each stand and stall striving to outmatch its neighbors with bright colors and eye-catching signs proclaiming their wares.

  Teth immediately set about converting their wagon into an alchemist’s stall, while Joar tended to the horses, seeking a suitable space to picket them while Huntress oversaw his endeavors. Nimhea, Lahvja, and Ara set up a living space behind the wagon with their tents, wooden folding chairs, a firepit, and cooking apparatus.

  With their task completed, the three women returned to observe what changes Teth had wrought in their absence.

  “My goodness,” Lahvja said.

  Nimhea chuckled, smiling wickedly. “It’s . . . an approach.”

  The driver’s seat and front of the wagon became stairs that rose to the wagon floor, which transformed into a platform that showcased shelves filled with glass and metal bottles and jars that winked and sparkled in the sunlight once one side of the wagon was detached and set up as a table where Teth could do his haggling. The rear door remained in place to provide a sheltered area where Lahvja could create whatever medicines and other mixtures were in demand.

  Fabric in vivid scarlet striped with black and fringed with gold tassels draped the frame of the wagon. A wooden sign painted with gold leaf announced in bold, embellished letters that the Potion Palace was open for business.

  “The Potion Palace?” Ara asked Teth when he strolled up to them. “Has Lucket been to many palaces?”

  She kept her tone light, but staring at the garish, impromptu store, Ara felt a mounting sense of dread. This was not hiding. This was not evading notice. They would not get away with this.

  He turned to admire his work. “In the Great Market, exaggeration is an effective means to an end.”

  “And ostentation?” Nimhea quipped, making Lahvja giggle, then throw Teth an apologetic look.

  Unfazed, Teth replied, “There is a time and place for subtlety, but that is neither now nor here.”

  Ara moved to his side and said softly, “Are you sure this is the best idea? It’s so . . .” She gestured at the converted wagon. “Loud.”

  Teth simply raised an eyebrow at her. “Trust me.”

  Joar joined them. “The horses are picketed a short distance from here in a place with good grass for grazing.”

  He gazed at the converted wagon for a long moment. “Are we putting on a play?”

  Huntress approached the stall and sniffed around it as if perplexed by the wagon’s transformation.

  “I object to that question,” Lahvja said. “Eni’s Children perform on stages that are much more tasteful than this.”

  “I apologize,” Joar said solemnly.

  Teth smirked at them. “Insult the wagon all you want, but within the hour we’ll be swarmed with customers.”

  Ara swallowed a wave of nausea. Swarmed?

  “Care to wager on that?” Nimhea asked.

  “Very tempting,” Teth replied. “But that is a terrible bet for you, and I’d rather not take advantage of our brave, albeit naive, future queen.”

  Nimhea glowered at him. “Naive?”

  “Only when it comes to hawking wares, Your Highness,” Teth said quickly. “Please don’t stick me with the pointy end of your sword.”

  “Don’t worry, Teth.” Nimhea smiled wickedly. “If I do it fast enough you’ll be dead before you feel anything.”

  Teth blanched and backed away several steps.

  “Oh, leave him be.” Lahvja threaded her arm through Nimhea’s. “We do need him to make sales.”

  From his safer vantage point, Teth called, “I’m going to prepare for said sales. You all need to get into proper clothes.”

  Nimhea muttered something under her breath.

  “Yes, dear,” Lahvja agreed. “But we’d better do as he says.”

  Ara absorbed their banter like it was an elixir for her anxiety. Her friends seemed confident.

  If they think this will work, I should, too.

  She kept telling herself that in the hopes that she would eventually believe it.

  * * *

  Ara knelt to open the large chest they’d received along with the wagon when Lucket and his companions returned to the abandoned fort. Nimhea and Lahvja stood on either side of her, peering over her shoulders. Even Huntress wandered over from where she’d been resting near the firepit and buried her nose in the trunk, sniffing its contents.

  They’d been dressed in their usual traveling clothes, but now that it was time to play merchant, they needed to investigate the wardrobe the Low King had provided. Digging through the chest’s contents, Ara found several dresses, pairs of fashionable doeskin shoes, wraps and scarves, and a smaller box containing jewelry.

  The dresses were of varied sizes, and Ara divvied them out—the longest for Nimhea, tho
se more suited for curves to Lahvja, and the shortest to herself. As she handled each piece, she marveled at the fineness of the fabrics slipping over her fingers, the susurrations they made rustling against each other, and the exquisite detail of each design.

  In Rill’s Pass, Ara had no need for fine clothing. She’d rarely worn dresses, and the few she owned had been simple wool for winter and muslin for summer—though her grandmother’s skills as a weaver did guarantee the quality of each dress and the loveliness of embroidered details at the collars and hems. These dresses, however, were of an entirely different ilk.

  The three women went to their respective tents to change. Ara spread the three dresses out on her bedroll. They were all Vijerian silk—one was sage green with long, semi-sheer sleeves and a subtle pattern of leaves and vines covering the bodice and skirt; the second was sleeveless lavender with a wrapped bodice that created a deep V at the neckline and a wide braided-leather sash at the waist; and the third was pale blue with a similar wrapped neckline but was embroidered on the bodice and had three-quarter tulip sleeves with silver thread.

  Her chest pinched. Silverthread. Her family. Homesickness swept through her. She closed her eyes, willing her grandmother’s face into her mind’s eye, then Old Imgar’s. She missed her grandmother’s wit and wisdom, Imgar’s stories and gruff laughter . . . even his sour moods.

  When will I see them again?

  The warm weather in Sola wouldn’t reach the highlands for another moon, but the marks of late spring would signal summer’s approach. The rivers would swell with snowmelt, and the bravest flowers would emerge from the ground and lift their faces to the lengthening sunlight.

  She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and made a promise to herself that she would ask Teth to send agents from the Below to look into her family’s welfare.

  Ara chose the blue dress. The deep V of the neckline didn’t accommodate her chemise, so she tossed it aside, then took a moment to revel in the sensual liquid pour of the silk over her skin. She used the attached ties to tighten the bodice around her chest and paused briefly at vague misgivings about the way the dress suddenly created more cleavage than she actually had. The skirt flared out from her waist and swirled around her legs when she moved.

  Turning to the pieces of jewelry she’d selected, Ara picked up a silver teardrop pendant set with deep-blue lapis. She put a silver ear cuff on her left ear and several silver and copper bangles on her right wrist.

  Ara emerged from the tent to find Nimhea and Lahvja waiting for her. They were an arresting sight. Ara was used to Lahvja wearing dresses, but nothing like the confection of silver draped around her now. The dress had cap sleeves fringed with black beads and a deeply cowled neckline. Its silhouette followed the curves of her body to the beaded hem that brushed over the tops of her shoes. She wore a choker of black beads strung together to resemble lace resting on her neck and collarbones.

  Nimhea’s transformation was nigh unbelievable. The princess wore a dress of forest green with a bodice that wrapped over one shoulder while leaving the other bare. The top half of the bodice was embroidered with copper thread on a diagonal that carried down the skirt, broadening until it circled the entire hem. A dove-gray scarf covered her head, hiding her hair and shadowing her face, and fell to her mid-back while its width pooled over her arms.

  “You both look beautiful,” Ara told them.

  Nimhea offered a wry smile.

  “As do you,” Lahvja replied. “But you need to let me change your hair. Fjerian braids don’t fit our disguise.”

  Ara’s hand touched the braids coiled around the crown of her head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Lahvja smiled warmly. “It will only take a moment for me to fix.”

  Nimhea watched as Ara stood patiently while Lahvja unbraided her hair. The summoner combed through the black waves with her fingers then gathered the length and twisted it, securing it with a silver cuff so that Ara’s hair spilled over her right shoulder.

  “You still look like a Fjerian.” Nimhea laughed. “But a Fjerian who’d rather be Vijerian.”

  When Ara blushed, Lahvja squeezed her shoulders.

  “We’d be happy to adopt you.”

  Teth appeared from around the front of the wagon. “Are you three almost ready? We have gawkers who are going to raid the stall if we don’t—”

  He stopped short, staring at Ara. His jaw clenched, and the tendons of his neck tightened.

  Unable to hold his gaze, Ara lowered her eyes. “We’re coming. Lahvja was just finishing my hair.”

  She looked to Lahvja for support, but the summoner and the princess were quickly walking away.

  Then Teth was beside her. Her heart stuttered. She didn’t trust herself to look at him.

  Clearing his throat first, he said, “Vijerian fashion suits you.”

  Deciding it was both ridiculous and rude to keep staring at the ground, Ara lifted her head.

  Teth had changed as well, though the differences were subtle. He still wore his usual dark suede trousers, but his shirt was much finer and closer-fitting undyed linen with an open collar. The pendant bearing Eni’s sign rested against his dark skin.

  “Can you believe he wanted me to take it off?” Teth scoffed, after following her gaze. “Eni named me Loreknight. I’m not about to offend a god for fashion’s sake.”

  Ara laughed. “I’m sure Eni would forgive you, but I agree with your choice.”

  Teth had gone quiet again, looking at her, drinking her in. His expression was pained.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked as her pulse skittered.

  When he met her questioning gaze, his eyes were stricken. She wanted so much to reach out to him.

  “No, and yes,” he murmured. “You’re . . . you’re more than beautiful. I don’t have words for what you are.”

  His words stirred up all those sensations and feelings she’d been struggling to keep buried. Though she knew she shouldn’t, Ara moved closer to him. She laid her fingertips against the hollow of his throat. His pulse jumped at her touch.

  She took hold of Eni’s pendant, resting the back of her hand on his upper chest. They stood like that for a moment that stretched out beyond bearing. Ara could feel his every heartbeat vibrate through her limbs. But he stayed very still.

  An insistent ache built inside her, and she longed for Teth to put his arms around her. To possess her. She wanted her body against his, pressing tight so she could feel every contour of his chest and abdomen.

  She brought her right hand up to grasp his left arm, her fingers wrapping around taut muscle.

  “Teth.” Longing tore through her. “I miss you.”

  He held her gaze. Something battled behind his eyes. She could feel the strain in his body.

  I can’t do this to him. I’m being unfair.

  But Ara couldn’t stop herself from moving closer. She brushed her lips over his.

  Teth didn’t move and Ara started to pull away, disappointment stinging her. But then his arms were around her and his mouth lowered to hers. The kiss began feather light. Whispers of his lips against hers. She felt the touch of his tongue and instinctively opened her mouth for him. His tongue slipped inside, and she was startled by the sound of her own unbidden moan.

  The kiss deepened and his arms tightened around her, molding her body to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His kisses were hard, demanding. Heat curled low in her body, and her knees buckled as she melted into him. She clung to him, certain she would fall if he let her go.

  Teth’s lips left hers to press against her neck. His tongue flicked over her skin. He then laid a trail of searing kisses along her jaw to her temple.

  “I need to know you want this,” he murmured against her skin.

  “I want this,” she breathed. “I want you.”

  Ara caught his lower lip between her te
eth, then kissed him. Kissed him again. And again. She became drunk with sensation. She was losing herself. Conflicting impulses raged against each other in her heart and mind.

  Breaking their kiss felt like ripping herself apart, but she forced herself to pull back. Breathing hard, she cupped his face in her hands. She was shaking, her body afire but her mind chilled by doubt.

  “I think I love you, Teth.” Her voice cracked as tears pricked in the corners of her eyes. “But I don’t know how to be the Loresmith and love you.”

  His eyes filled with regret. He looked away from her, giving a slow shake of his head, and let her go.

  “Then learn,” he said softly, stepping away.

  He released a long breath and turned on his heel, heading for the wagon.

  A sickening wave passed through her. What have I done?

  Ara’s limbs trembled violently, and she thought she would collapse, but suddenly Huntress was there pressing against her, helping to steady her legs. Grateful, Ara looked down into the wolf’s silver eyes and found ageless wisdom.

  Ara stood there, one hand buried in Huntress’s fur, waiting for her pulse to stop roaring in her veins. For her skin to cool and strength to return to her limbs.

  For the courage to face Teth.

  She couldn’t deny that despite trying to keep her feelings at bay, her desire and care for him had continued to grow. A war raged inside her; her body and heart fighting for Teth while her mind defended against their every volley.

  What had Nimhea said? You’re punishing him and yourself for reasons I don’t believe are good enough.

  The princess’s words compelled Ara, so why was it so hard to believe they were true?

  * * *

  A small crowd gathered around the table where Teth had samples of the sundry goods offered by the Potion Palace. He was grinning, laughing, and chatting with his customers, handing out lists of merchandise and their prices.