Stealthily, I pass behind stalls until the Protector moves by. I pick up my pace anyway, covering half the market in barely a few minutes. I’m through the worst of the crowds, ready to duck down a side street, when I hear a deep, silky voice.
Chapter 3
A Beautiful Distraction
“I will pay you one silver and no more.” The words resonate in my chest, the tone pulling me in. Is the speaker using a charisma spell? “This wine is good but notthatgood.”
I spare a precious moment to locate the owner of the voice that literally stopped me in my tracks. He’s two stalls away. Not that I’d miss him if he were even further. Towering over most of the crowd by at least six inches, though not overly muscular, he’s proportionately broad across shoulders and chest. Somewhere in his early- to mid-thirties, right-handed, no weapons. Though he moves confidently. His whole ensemble screams wealthy merchant family, from his ivory silk tunic, embroidered with deep red runes at the neck and cuffs, and matching red calf-length silk overcoat, to his black pants and black ankle-high leather boots. The dark ruby studs, the size of Earth blueberries, sparkle in each of his earlobes, reinforcing that message. Though his easy smile and relaxed stance are more ‘man of the people.’
He’s also strikingly handsome, with dark olive skin, a straight nose, a strong jaw, and full red lips framed by a short mustache and beard. His dark brown hair cascades past his broad shoulders in soft curls. “Be reasonable.”
“This is the finest vintage from Oht. Well worth the two gold.” The merchant is a wizened old man in a ruby red Merchant Guild tunic. Right-handed, frail, stooped, gray hair, pale skin, no weapons. Not a threat. His tone and body language suggest that he’s offended. An act I’m sure he’s perfected over the decades.
As the haggling continues, I drag my gaze from them, scanning the crowd for the Protector and anything else out of the ordinary. If circumstances here were different, or if I was on Earth, I’d stay, insert myself into their dialogue, and flirt a bit with the handsome guy to see where things go. But the main square is too exposed, with too many places for other assassins to hide. I step into a doorway along the alley wall, trying to make myself leave. But the stranger has snagged my attention, and my gaze keeps drifting back to the wine stall.
“If it is the finest vintage from Oht, then it is my family’s own stock. No wonder I like it.” If true, the handsome man is most likely a Durov or a Beaufour, as those are the two largest winemaking families in that area. “I should not pay more than cost. Especially from a fellow guild member.”
The old merchant’s fair skin pales even further. “No need to be hasty!” He extends his wrinkled hand. “One silver is a fair price for a fellow guild member. We have a deal.”
“We do, indeed.” The silver is deposited in the old merchant’s palm, and he hands over the bottle of wine.
“Thank you, sir, and may good fortune be yours.” The merchant shakes his head, pockets the coin, and begins shuttering his stall for the day.
The tall stranger scans the thinning crowd, brow furrowed, as if he’s searching for something or someone. Hidden in the lengthening shadows, with my cloaking spell firmly in place, there’s no chance he’ll see me. So when our eyes meet and he holds my gaze, his beautiful mouth quirking up at the corner, I’m shaken to my core.
“Nicolas!”
Tall-and-handsome’s attention is drawn to the other side of the street, his lips curving into a full grin. “Marek! There you are!” He holds up the newly purchased bottle. “I have the wine!”
The ‘Marek’ in question is an olive-skinned man with shoulder-length blond hair. He’s around the same age as Nicolas and dressed in equally expensive clothing. Average build. One dagger tucked in his boot. A minimal threat. He waits with his hands on his hips, lips pressed tightly together. “Hurry up! You are making us late.”
Nicolas laughs. “If Sebastian wants his name-day present, he can have some patience.” He jogs across the square to Marek, and they wander farther down the market, laughing and shoving each other.
I step from the alcove, following the two with my gaze until they enter a tavern off a corner of the main square. Like a spell has been broken, I realize I’ve wandered into the middle of the street, following Nicolas’s progress.Unsettled, I spin on my heels and hurry down the alley, putting as much distance as possible between me and the market. Even so, I swear Nicolas’s eyes follow me as I slip out of sight.
Chapter 4
Plans and Plots
The tavern is bustling, packed for the afternoon meal, with Diamond, Ruby, and Amethyst Guild members making up most of the patrons. The mix isn’t surprising given the tavern’s location in the Government District, which is the hub of power not only for Amal, but for all of Amagi. With the tavern’s close proximity to the Assembly, and its reputation for good food and service, it’s a popular lunch destination for the Representatives who often have to return to the Assembly for afternoon or evening sessions.
This midday meeting between Onyx Guild Master Cosimo Vitorio, Senior House Representative Lorenzo Medina, and three other high-ranking individuals, is still in the pleasantries stage. Who would have anticipated that following Cosimo on a whim this afternoon would lead me to a private meeting between Lorenzo Medina and several very important people in Amagi politics? A server sweeps past me into the pantry, and I activate the onyx in and on my body, locking down my cloaking spell as I tuckmyself into the small alcove between the private dining room and the kitchen.
Lorenzo Medina, a dark olive-skinned man with blond, curly hair cut short on the sides, smiles charmingly at the group. He’s right-handed and wearing several weapons, none visible. Highly dangerous. “Josefa, thank you again for the invitation to your son’s handfasting. I am honored and look forward to attending.”
“House Silva is honored by your acceptance, Senior Representative Medina.” The person responding, obviously Josefa, is a female-presenting person with olive skin and salt-and-pepper hair pulled to the nape of her neck in a severe twist. She’s mid- to late-forties, left-handed, no weapons. No physical threat. She’s wearing the deep Amethyst robes of a senior lawyer.
The man to her left, with closely cropped silver hair and a pinched expression on his sallow features, is mid-sixties, right-handed, and has no weapons. A minimal threat. He’s dressed in a Diamond Guild silver overcoat similar to Lorenzo’s, but while Lorenzo wears a long jacket that hits mid-thigh, this man’s coat reaches the floor, indicating that he’s Guild Master Alexey Rostova. “Should we get to business? I hate to rush us, but this afternoon I have an appointment with thecurrentchancellor”—he smirks and inclines his head to Lorenzo—“and I need to tie up a few details first.”
Lorenzo inclines his head in return. “Of course, Alexey. With any luck, we’ll have our own representative in the chancellorship after the next elections.”
Alexey nods solemnly. “With any luck, that will be you.”
They all take seats at the large round table. A dark-haired, male-presenting person in his mid-fifties, with almost translucently pale skin in the ruby red silk tunic of the Merchant Guild, raises his drink—left-handed—and salutes Lorenzo. So this is Master Hans Keller. He makes sure to flash the very large, very impressive ruby on his right third finger in a not-so-subtle reminder of his own Guild Master status. “May the Founder make it so.” He sets down his wine, almost knocking it over in the process, indicating that the dagger at his hip is purely decorative. Not a threat.
Lorenzo inclines his head again. “That is very kind, Hans. Founder willing, I will do my best to ensure our prosperity and safety for many decades to come.”
The door between this and the main dining room swings open, and the server brings in a large tray of food, setting bowls and platters of cold and hot items on the table before sweeping out the way she came. As everyone fills their plates, Josefa addresses Lorenzo again. “I have considered your suggestion to send the nulls to Earth, and I agree that it makes sense. Non-magical people do not contribute anything meaningful to our society.”
