“I don’t believe I have.”
“You’d know if you had,” the man replied with a certain nod. “Our Selwassan beeswax is quite the hot commodity, even in Gramenia where they have those strange lamps. Our wax sells at a higher rate than tallow, which is essentially free, but at a lower rate than their magic-powered lights.”
“Have you ever been there yourself?” Hevva inquired, intrigued as she snagged a small circular sandwich off the tray. Its odd butter and jam filling clashed with her purple cocktail, but she ate it anyway.
“Me? Oh, yes. It’s quite dangerous to sail up and around the Horn of Gramenia. My lovely bride here is a watercourser, and I shape earth.”
“As do I.” Hevva smiled.
The older man beamed. Everyone had magic of one type or another, but it was always fun to meet people outside of your family who carried the same kind as you.
“We have the wildest times sailing over there, with our crew of course. Couldn’t do it without them.”
“Hadthe wildest times. Remember honey, we’ve sold out and put that life behind us.”
Mr. Gulan nodded. “Ah, so we did. Sold out about a year ago,” he explained for Hevva’s benefit. “Turkhane wanted in, but we passed him over for another young chap. The baron’s already got his fingers into House Newand’s territory anyway. Have to spread the wealth, I always say.”
“Here, here!” Mrs. Gulan lifted her glass.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Hevva beamed, joining the older couple in a toast. They were bracing companions, treating her like an equal rather than some untouchable noble. Perhaps the symposium wasn’t all that bad after all, perhaps it was an opportunity to make new friends. She usually had to choose a new name and put on borrowed clothes to experience life among the people, but this was a delightful turn of events.
“Now that is refreshing to hear, wouldn’t you say, love?” Teymour nudged his pudgy wife.
“Oh, very much so. It’s always refreshing to learn of a young noble who isn’t intent on amassing more, more, more!” Shilan laughed as she lifted her glass to her lips, rings clinking on crystal.
Oh, they were delightful, she couldn’t even find it in her to be offended. “Say”—the lady leaned toward the couple—“you’ll never guess what I heard about Baron Turkhane.”
Hevva revealed the gossip she’d picked up earlier in the evening while she nibbled on a biscuit with a strong peppery flavor and an odd aftertaste. She hoped it hadn’t gone off. It wasn’t to her liking, but she didn’t have a plate of her own or she’d have discarded the thing. She sneezed into a too-small napkin.
“Amistress, you say? No, that couldn’t be his wife, could it?” Mr. Gulan craned past his own wife to try to get a look at the couple in question.
Shilan pushed him back. “Don’t be so obvious,” she scolded. “I thought the baroness was fatter. And a blonde.”
The couple across from her debated whether the young woman on Turkhane’s arm, with her hand suspiciously close to his manhood, was a legitimate companion. Hevva sniffled and scratched her neck.
“Tell me more about Gramenia?” she inquired, setting the duo off on a new tangent as they relived memories of their time abroad. She nibbled at the spiced biscuit and listened to the Gulans reminisce. One day, she wanted that. She wanted a companion, someone to banter with and watch the world go by. A nice common boy.A young merchant,she thought.That would be perfect.
“Lady Hevva, are you feeling all right?”
Hevva set down her drink and scratched her arm. “I believe so, why do you ask?”
“Well, my lady, I believe you may be having a reaction.”
She glanced down at her hands to find them covered in hives as her mouth formed a circle. “What’s in these?” she rasped, holding up the half-eaten biscuit.
“Crab, I believe?” Teymour offered.
She pushed to her feet in a hurry.Crab, of course. Shit.Too many drinks on too little food had muddled her mind.“It was lovely to meet you! Hope to see you soon!”
“Will you be all right, my dear?” Shilan inquired as they both moved to stand with her.
“Yes, quite fine.” Hevva waved them back into their seats as she snatched a full glass of something from a passing servant and pushed through the crowd toward the back of the room.
Shoving open the rear door with her free hand, she stumbled out into the balmy night. The sounds of merriment from within dulled as the door swung shut behind her. Itchy bursts of panic prickled beneath her skin as Hevva’s poor reaction intensified. She scratched at her arms and neck. She’d be fine. She needed fresh air, space, anywhere to escape the embarrassment unfolding within her traitorous body.
Hevva stumbled toward a secluded corner between the side of the stable and the inn, hidden from prying eyes. A pair of horses with eye-having riders approached the establishment as she ducked out of sight. The dim moonlight alone bore witness to her distress as she clutched her throat, feeling the swell closing in. Searching frantically for a solution, she spotted a discarded wooden crate, rushed toward it, and sank to her knees. Her elegant dress had become constricting, and beads of sweat formed on her brow.
Plunging two fingers down her throat in an unladylike manner, Hevva urged herself to vomit, to rid her body of the offending meat. The taste of the peppery crab plagued her, but she continued until her stomach rebelled, and she expelled its contents onto the dusty cobblestones. Tears welled in her eyes, and the itchiness persisted, a relentless reminder of her predicament.
