Her laughter followed Blake out the door.
Chapter 14
Defenders lined the road on either side of the wall, supervising the merchants’ arrival. It was the job of the farming commander to watch the livestock and Harlan’s job to ensure every merchant in attendance was on their best behaviour.
The feast was being held in the borough’s square. They had roped a section off for royalty, nobility, and clergy. The food on that side of the rope was of a significantly higher quality—and mass.
It had been five years since that wall was built, and the Solar Festival was now the only time merchants got to enter. It was also the only time they saw live animals—from a safe distance.
Harlan wandered beneath the red banners erected around the perimeter of the square, eyes moving over the new arrivals, committing each face to memory. He had a knack for spotting concealed weapons. While it was not a crime for a merchant to carry a weapon into the event, drawing it at the wrong time and in the wrong company could easily turn into one.
There was no sign of Blake yet. Unless he had missed her arrival. Doubtful, as he kept wandering back to the gate to check. But once the streets and square were full, he was forced to remain where the majority of merchants were. He positioned himself against a wall, watching the musicians set up. Lutes, wind instruments, tambourines, drums. Past them were food stalls with queues stretching along the main road. Farmers were selling black bread, soup, and onions fried with mushrooms. The smell of oil, salt, and garlic mixed with the fruity scent of blackberry wine in the air.
It was an hour later when he spotted Lyndal dancing. She wore a red dress with yellow feathers threaded through her hair. Every man with working sight was looking in her direction, but Harlan’s focus was elsewhere. He was looking for Blake. When he could not find her, he ambled around the edge of the square, searching. He came across Eda and her mother seated with a plate of food between them, but no Blake.
Boisterous laughter made him turn to the men gathered around the barrels of ale. Some were already on their way to drunk, which meant they would either be useless for gameball later or trouble for the game. Harlan’s gaze drifted back to the dancers as the musicians struck up a new song, and his gaze snagged on a woman in an orange dress.
It was Blake.
He stilled, a frozen figure in a sea of chaos. It barely looked like her, yet it was unmistakably her. She looked like she belonged on the other side of the rope. Her hair was braided and tucked, her dress figure-hugging, her lips painted the colour of fire. It was not simply the dress and the paint that made him stare—though the dress gave many reasons to—it was the brilliant smile lighting up her face as she danced with a merchant man completely unworthy of her. He did not have to meet the man to know that.
They circled one another, Blake’s head tipping back with laughter every time the tempo of the music changed. It was the sight of her happy that made him stare. It was the sight of her away fromhim. He stood completely transfixed until the song finally ended. Even then, he could not look away as she clapped and caught her breath. The man she had danced with leaned in to say something. Grinning, harmless. So why did Harlan want to drag him off to the tower?
Blake laughed—laughed—said something back, then curtsied before stepping away. Her eyes swept the crowd like she was looking for someone, and an irresponsible part of him wanted to be that someone. He felt the moment her eyes landed on him, like warm water splashed over his face on a frosty morning. The hairs on his arms stood up as Blake’s eyes creased at the corners in place of a smile. Then she was walking towards him, one hand holding her skirt off the ground.
‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,’ Blake said, stopping next to him. She looked out at the other dancers. ‘I should have known I would find you lurking in the shadows.’
‘Wouldn’t have picked you for a dancer.’ Those were his first words, despite the compliments piled up in his throat.
She eyed him. ‘Everyone enjoys dancing—even defenders who might pretend otherwise.’
He snuck a glance at her. ‘I prefer to watch.’
‘Anyone in particular?’
‘People concealing weapons, mostly.’
‘Oh, fun.’ She pressed her lips together to stop from smiling. ‘Sometimes I forget you aren’t human like the rest of us.’
His eyebrows came together. ‘Someone has to maintain order at these events.’
‘Because self-regulation for a merchant isunthinkablenowadays. Someone must tell us when we’ve had enough dancing, enough fun, enough to drink.’ She paused. ‘Enough to eat.’
Apparently looking like a goddess was going to her head. ‘Something you want to say?’
‘Nothing that won’t get me into trouble.’
More laughter came from the men gathered around the ale, pulling their attention.
‘Look at those men over there and tell me what you see,’ Harlan said.
Blake angled her head, observing the men for a full minute before replying. ‘I see they’re nearing drunk. They’ll probably brawl at some point, over something insignificant, like a comment made about another man’s wife or daughter. At least one will grab the backside of some poor girl while dancing and finish with a bloody nose.’ She paused. ‘I also see men exhausted by the effort of providing for their families, in desperate need to forget the hardships that await them tomorrow.’ She looked up at Harlan. ‘For the record, I think the heavy presence of defenders is both demoralising and unnecessary.’
Harlan regarded her. ‘Want to know what I see?’
‘I’m sure you’ll tell me regardless.’
‘The man on the far right is married to the woman serving the ale. He’s not looking at his wife though. He’s watching the redhead dancing three couples in.’
