He shakes his head.
We pile into the larger carriage. It’s a tight fit, especially with our full skirts, but we all manage to have a place to sit. The carriage is luxurious, and the benches are about twice as long as they were in the carriage I arrived in.
The ladies share stories about the market. Apparently, in the summer, there are so many flowers that artisans weave them into sculptures. In the deepest part of winter, they turn ice into the shapes of animals or people.
It’s not a long journey, and when we arrive, we’re escorted out of the carriage by Caiden, Brevan, and the earl. Though, the latter mostly just stands there nodding along as the other two help each woman down the stairs.
The scents of cinnamon and pine are almost overwhelming as soon as I leave the carriage. We’re at one end of the marketplace, and people fill the streets. They dart in and out of shops and stop by little tables set up with vendors selling food or goods. It’s not unlike the shops on Silk Row, but none of the tables block the permanent structures behind them.
There are people everywhere. All of them dressed in their finest clothes. Some of the women wear bonnets to cover their hair. I don’t see a single scarf used for that purpose. Before now, I’ve only ever seen a bonnet once before, and I thought it looked rather silly. Now, they’re on half the women walking down this street.
Some carry parasols while they hold up their heavy skirts to avoid puddles. The men are dressed in suits, similar to how Caiden and the earl are dressed. Brevan stands out in his leather armor. He and Caiden are taller than most of the men, includingthe earl. The old man is taller than me, but only by an inch or two. When he walks next to the other men, it makes him look shorter than he is.
I’m bombarded by more scents and sounds the closer we get. I smell herbs and spices I can’t place mingling with cooking meat and fried dough.
“We should go to the soapery,” Charlotte says. “I want to see if they made any more jasmine soap.”
“I love the bath salts they sell. The kind with the roses,” Genevieve adds.
“Follow your friends, my dear, and show me what you want,” the earl says to Juliette. “I’ll purchase anything your heart desires.”
She smiles, but it looks more like a grimace. The earl either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
We pass stalls selling fruit I didn’t even know you could get this time of year. A winery has a table in front of it selling cups of steaming mulled wine.
“That’s what I want,” the earl says. “Anyone else?”
I decline, as do Brevan and Caiden, but the earl purchases a mug for everyone else.
At first, nobody notices us. They’re going about their business, flitting in and out of shops with bags full of their treasures. Until someone stops and gasps, then bows. People begin to stare.
Others bow, too, and some ladies curtsy. I hear whispers in our wake, but nobody stops us, so we continue along.
After purchasing soap, I stroll with the other ladies, going wherever they choose. It’s all new to me, and I look the part of a foreigner even though I’ve spent most of my life living not too far from here.
As we walk, I scan for any familiar faces or rebellion stars on buildings. I know it’s not likely, but I don’t want to miss someone if they happened to be here.
It’s nearing lunchtime, and we’ve still only visited about half of the offerings. It’s much larger than the marketplace on Silk Row.
A pair of legionnaires rushes toward us, shoving past people who don’t move out of their way quickly enough, completely focused on reaching us.
I know before they arrive that something is wrong.
Caiden and Brevan step aside, and while I can’t hear their whispered conversation, I watch as their faces darken, their expressions turning to scowls, and their eyes dart to our group on occasion.
My pulse races. They found out. They know who I am. I’m so close but not close enough. All this time for nothing.
“Try this,” Charlotte says, handing me a date. I take it from her and try not to look like I’m watching the men too intently.
I don’t even taste the fruit when I eat it.
Finally, they return to us, and Caiden sets his hand on my upper arm. “I hate to do this, but something’s come up and I have to return.”
“Alright, do you want me to go with you?” I offer, because I expect it’s the polite thing to do.
“No, you stay with Brevan and the ladies. Have fun,” he says. “Anything you want you can charge to the emperor’s accounts.”
“That’s very generous,” I reply.
