Elowen took Amryn’s arm and pulled her toward the square, Ivan and Ford falling into step behind them.
Market Square teemed with energy and life. Distractions abounded, and Amryn hardly knew where to look first. Shops and eateries lined the vast plaza, though there were many carts and stands offering wares and services as well. A large central fountain with towering stone sculptures of stampeding horses dominated the busy hub. A few people were tossing small coins into the pool, grinning as they did so. A woman nearby was painting the faces of delighted children in bright and colorful designs. Musicians played merrily for coin, filling the entire quarter with the sounds of flutes, drums, and violins. The scents of seared meats, fresh fruits, roasted vegetables, and seasoned flat breads saturated the air. One cart Amryn saw was filled to the brim with honeyed candies and roasted nuts, and another sold only coffee. There were also jugglers and other street performers entertaining for a coin or two. Small tents had been set up in the mouths of alleys and the edges of the square, offering an assortment of bright scarves, beaded jewelry, and other small trinkets.
Elowen encouraged Amryn to try several different foods as they wandered, and even though she was only sampling the various fare, she was soon too full to eat another bite.
The afternoon sun heated the air relentlessly, even with the cooling mist that drifted from the large fountain. When Amryn spied a young man selling delicately painted fans, it was the first time she wished she had coin of her own. She hadn’t been allowed to bring any to Esperance, and it hadn’t been something she’d needed since leaving the temple. The fan would be a practical purchase in this heat, but Amryn also saw one that—when expanded—depicted a beautiful, forested mountain with craggy cliffs on one side and a glassy blue lake nestled below. It reminded her of home.
“That’s exquisite,” Elowen said, coming to stand beside her as Amryn admired the fan.
She smiled, first at Elowen, then apologetically to the young man who tried to hand the fan to her. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the coin for it.”
Ford’s barking laugh made her jump. “I can’t wait to tell Carver you think he can’t afford to buy a bloody fan.”
Amryn’s cheeks, already reddened from the sun, warmed further. “That’s not—I don’t think—”
Elowen patted Amryn’s arm, her smile just as wide as Ford’s, though her expression was a shade gentler. “My brother may have failed to mention this, but he’s wealthy.Verywealthy. You could buy every fan on that cart, and he wouldn’t even blink.”
“Well, he might wonder why you needed so many fans,” Ford chuckled.
Amryn shifted uneasily. “But it’s his coin, not mine.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Elowen warned. “You’re his wife. His wealth is yours. He wouldn’t want you to view it any other way.” She handed Amryn a coin and winked. “I’ll make sure Carver pays me back. And that he gets you a purse of your own.”
Still feeling a little hesitant, Amryn passed over the single coin and purchased the fan.
As they turned away from the cart, Elowen gasped. “Oh my goodness, yes!” She snatched Amryn’s free hand and hauled her to a nearby tent. A wooden sign leaned against the dark canvas, proclaiming:Fortunes Told Here – One Silver Piece
“It’s a hoax,” Ford said, hands in his pockets as he eyed the sign. “You’d just be paying to hear lies.”
“It’sfun,” Elowen countered, digging in her purse. “We’re all getting our fortunes told—my treat.” She strode up to the tent, where a hulking man appeared to be standing guard. He was probably close to fifty, but his thick arms werestill defined with muscle, and the silver in his hair only made him appear more severe. His emotions were cautious, alert, and decidedly prickly as he watched them approach.
Elowen gave him a charming smile, undaunted by his intense stare. “Is the fortune-teller available?”
Ford snorted. “Not much of a seer if she didn’t see an eager customer coming her way.”
“True,” a melodious voice said from behind them. “It would be quite an embarrassing oversight on my part.”
They all turned, and Amryn’s eyes widened. The self-professed fortune-teller was undeniably beautiful and surprisingly young—only a couple of years older than Amryn, she guessed. She had vivid emerald eyes that stood out starkly against her porcelain skin. She wore soft-looking black gloves and a flowing cloak of dark purple velvet with the hood pushed back, leaving her angular face exposed. Her pale blonde hair was piled onto her head in a knotted bun made up of multiple braids, some small, some thick.
Amryn felt a little defensiveness from her, but mostly amusement—and perhaps a little appreciation—as she studied Ford from head to toe. “Have you always been skeptical of the supernatural?”
Her words snapped Ford out of his momentary stunned silence. A smirk melted over his face. “Only when it charges me a silver coin to believe.”
“Ah.” The woman smiled. “I should have sensed it before. You’re a skeptic whowishesto believe, only he’s too cynical to allow himself the luxury. A soldier, perhaps? One who’s seen battle, I’d wager.”
A shadow moved through Ford’s eyes. He folded his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing. “I thought you were supposed to see the future, not play guessing games about my past.”
The woman’s jeweled eyes glittered. “And yet our pasts so often shape our future.”
Ford’s lips pressed into a line while Elowen laughed. “Oh, you’re delightful,” she told the fortune-teller.
“Not the word I’d choose,” Ford muttered.
Elowen slapped his arm. “Be nice.” She smiled at the woman before them. “Are you available to give us all readings?”
“Of course.” She eyed Ford. “Though I must say I’m not glimpsing great things in the skeptic’s future.”
Ford’s jaw flexed. “I make my own fortune.”
