“It’s alright. It stunned me, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He releases his grip, turning on his heels toward the door, and adds, “You can leave those in there. I have to do laundry when we get back anyway.” The moment he says that, I remember I left my disgusting gown back at the ranch house.
I’m a godsdamn trainwreck.
Doing as he says, I toss them behind the door and slip into the boots he handed me before trailing after him outside. He doesn’t wait for me—not that I expect him to—and waltzes down the snowy path.
After a few minutes of silence, I break it, not wanting the voices in my head to start up again. “You grabbed the scales, right?”
Atticus looks over at me, confused. “I thought you had them.” My face slackens instantly, and I frantically pat my pockets, knowing they’re not in there but praying I absentmindedlygrabbed them on the way out.
“I—I don’t have them. Where did I put them down? I don—”
Atticus interrupts my mumbling with a cackle of laughter, and my body immediately freezes. “Sorry, that was a perfect opportunity, and I couldn’t pass it up.”
My shoulders slump, and my head lolls to the side. “Very funny. Odeyssa didn’t tell me you had such a…unique sense of humor.”
I fight the urge to ask, but when seconds tick into minutes, I lose the battle. “You do have them, right?”
“Yes, Kallie. I have them,” he assures, sounding annoyed, but he pats his front left pocket anyway. “You can check if you want,” he teases.
“No, it’s fine. I believe you.” But again, I hesitate. Even though it’s obviously a joke, part of me still wants to take him up on it.
We pass by tons of people, and suddenly, I feel like I’ve been transported back to my first time in Nefarium. All the double-takes, low whispers, and strange looks are very déjà vu, and it makes me wish I would’ve worn a hat or something. If Atticus notices, he doesn’t comment on it, and I appreciate it. Aside from not being from here, there’s no doubt in my mind they recognize me from the fire last night.
The soft snow beneath my feet quickly turns into wet, soppy mush when we enter the town square. Stalls full of locals line the street on either side, placed in front of existing storefronts. Some are littered with barrels full of different fruits and vegetables. Others have tables lined with artifacts, weapons, and odd-colored vials.
Atticus makes a beeline for the third store on our right, and I quicken my pace to keep up, noting a few stalls I would love to stop at. Even if I can’t buy anything, I can at least look. He pulls open the door, and the chime sounding above makes me think of Belladonna’s store—which is stupid. It’s just a fucking bell. Andyet, my mind still wanders. My chest still concaves, and the air rushes out of my lungs, heavy with the disappointment of not being met with flourishing greenery on the other side.
I stay close to Atticus while he meanders through the store. I try to keep my head down, not making eye contact with anyone while he figures out what we need to fix the house.
“Shouldn’t we, like…I don’t know, go sell…the goods?” I ask, suddenly realizing we came straight to the…hardware store? That’s what it looks like to me. They probably have a funny name for it, just like the forest buns.
Don’t go there, Kallie.
“The goods?” he questions, raising an eyebrow, amusement clear in his tone.
“Well, yeah. You know.” I make small gestures to his front pocket. He stares at me for a moment before letting out the most obscene version of a laugh I’ve ever heard.
“You’re not wrong. Those are definitely my goods.” My mouth pops open, and I smack his arm, unbelieving the sheer audacity.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” I exclaim.
“This isn’t a drug deal, Kallie. You can say scales. I guarantee you nobody is listening to us anyway. And if they were…well, the whole town knows not to mess with you. You’d burn the place down if they did.”
I roll my eyes and mumble, “I should’ve stayed at the house.” Standing there for a few more minutes, I decide I’m bored and tell him I’m going to explore the rest of the town. Whatever or whoever he’s waiting for is taking forever, and truthfully, I don’t care to stay and be the next topic of discussion. It’ll be no secret where the scales came from anyway. Voraxis seemed to be the only dragon that’s ever been here.
Leaving Atticus to his own devices, I leave the store and fade into the sea of people scurrying about the cobblestone pathway. Remembering one of the vendors that caught my eye when wewalked past, I weave through the crowd, my target gleaming in steel ahead.
“Looking for anything in particular?” The woman is a bit raggedy, a little rough around the edges. Her voice is scratchy and reminds me of someone who probably smokes a pack a day, but I don’t think that’s the case. It sounds worn—broken and exhausted. Like she’s seen her fair share of ugly in the realm and has finally come to accept the inevitable. Her cloak drapes over her shoulders, and the hood is pulled up, concealing half of her face.
“Not really. Just browsing,” I respond. She gives me a quick nod before slipping away to assist someone else. The blades differ in size and thickness. The hilts of each knife, dagger, and sword are unique, none of them the same as their neighbor.
My eyes track each of the daggers scattered on top of the wooden table. But something pulls me to the one resting in the middle of all the others, calling to me like a siren’s song does a passing ship. The handle is the darkest shade of obsidian. It would seamlessly blend into the night, and the blade glows faintly, reflecting light with a subtle sheen. Muted and soft, scattering the light, too polished for ordinary metal.
My hand instinctively reaches for it, but before I make contact, someone grips my shoulder. “Serena?” Instantly my body locks up. I know that voice, and the last time I heard it, the conversation didn’t end well—for her.
