“Exactly.” She grinned, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Perfect to meet Darreth’s people.”
After a bit of cajoling on my part, Catrin eventually joined me at the breakfast table to share the pastries. I listened intently as she described her duties. I’d thought the life of a servant would be nothing but grueling hours, but she seemed happy and not overworked at all. With only tales of how the servants were treated at the Mage’s fortress to compare it to, I had no idea if her experience was unique to Darreth.
Belly full, I dressed swiftly, and we made our way out of the castle. The door Emrys had shattered had already been replaced with something that lacked its predecessor’s ornate carvings.
I felt a bit sad about that until the echoing sound of the front doors being opened by a pair of footmen snapped me out of it. The cracked steps beyond held four fully armored men, weapons at the ready, staring at us in silence. Now I understood whatof the manly sortmeant.
As Catrin led us past them, they shifted in perfect unison, two flanking us ahead, and the others bringing up the rear. The clank of our guards’steps was jarring at first, but Catrin’s vibrant voice quickly made me forget all about it.
“The princes thought you’d want to ‘take the pulse of the people’ while they were occupied today,” Catrin explained.
Which brother had truly suggested this? The thoughtful charmer, or the cursed beast? I pushed the thought away.
“Thoughtful,” I mused. The cobblestones gleamed beneath my shoes, worn smooth by centuries of boots treading to and from the castle. Back in Caervorn, I knew every crack along the market path. Here, even the ground felt foreign.
The path was so bright, with none of the gray that had marked every step of my life before. We took a winding route downhill to the city below. The descent was invigorating, but the thought of the arduous climb back up already filled me with dread.
Each guard radiated a calm watchfulness that reminded me of my father’s demeanor whenever I’d dropped by his post at the Mage’s fortress. The familiarity of their emotions set me at ease and allowed me to soak in the sights.
Past the castle’s fortifications, the streets narrowed, with ornate buildings lining either side. These were the wealthy families that could afford to huddle next to the castle’s safety. Catrin led us toward the market squares that fanned out below.
The shops favored by the affluent were not open-air stalls like mine back in Caervorn but occupied their own buildings with painted signs hanging above the doors and armed guards standing outside day and night. Catrin sent me a look as we passed a jewelry shop, asking silently if I wanted to peek inside, but I shook my head fervently. I wasn’t prepared to pretend to be a high lady in a place where my facade would be easily uncovered. I knew nothing about the different types of jewelry or even the basics of gemstones.
We moved on to the cloth and leather district, with canvas roofs in a hundred different colors. Under these, simple wool cloth was displayedalongside the vibrant colors and textures of imported cotton and even silk. Ornate saddles sat alongside plain, serviceable ones.
Merchants sat up at attention as my troop of guards walked past. I’d always been invisible among muddy boots and coarse hands. Now, eyes followed me everywhere. The silk gown I wore grabbed attention and carried an authority I hadn’t earned.
Catrin leaned over to whisper in my ear, regal scarf fluttering in the breeze, “We’ll stop when you’re comfortable, okay? No pressure.”
I nodded, eternally grateful for her understanding. Chatter dimmed wherever we roamed. The clouds of emotions I walked through were mostly respect and curiosity rather than fear of what I represented.Interesting. In Caervorn, anywhere a purple cloak walked, alarm followed.
The scent on the air shifted from the familiar smell of old leather to the rich aroma of the earth as we entered the bustling marketplace filled with fresh produce and grain. Here my feet slowed. Given their vital role in keeping a kingdom fed, farmers knew more than most about the forces shaking a nation. This was where I might find the truth.
As I slowed, my sabaton-shod followers took a step back. I stopped and picked up a parsnip, studying the faint trace of soil still clinging to the top. “Fresh,” I murmured appreciatively.
The farmer behind the stall was an older man with a sun-browned face and gnarled, work-toughened hands. He gave a cautious nod, his eyes flicking between my guards and my gown, uncertain where to settle.
“Picked before dawn, my lady,” he said at last, voice rough. “Best ones this side of the river.”
I smiled at that, letting warmth fill my tone. “Oh, I believe you. These would make the creamiest soup.”
He blinked at me as if he couldn’t believe what his ears had heard.Duh, Isca. High ladies don’t cook!
“At least that’s what my cook would say.” I tittered, the lie clumsy on my tongue. “I’d wager you know the rhythm of this city better than anyone behind those castle walls.”
He plastered a false smile on his face as dread churned from him. “As you say, my lady.”
I was tempted, oh, I wassotempted, to guarantee the success of this conversation with a flicker of magic. It would be easy. I could’ve pushed his fear aside by filling him with a sense of trust. But that would make me as bad as the Assembly. There wasn’t much of a difference between persuasion and control if the other person never had a choice.
I drew in a breath and curled my hands into balls under the sleeves. I could do this the hard way.
“The Mage Assembly sent me to help Darreth flourish,” I said, meeting his worried eyes. I kept my gaze soft, my tone warm. “To do that properly, I need to understand what problems the people face.” I gestured lightly to the bustling market, to him. “That means speaking with the people who keep the kingdom’s heart beating. Anything you say to me is not a complaint or slight against the royal family. Your complete honesty is, in fact, a direct service to them.”
A flicker of suspicion crossed his face, immediately followed by a look of curiosity. He leaned in slightly, as if weighing whether he could risk saying anything.
“If it’s the heart you want, it’s a tired one these days,” he said. “Taxes—” He stopped himself, eyes flicking to the sword in my guard’s scabbard. “The weather, of course,” he finished, rubbing his palms on a scrap of cloth. The motion was habitual more than necessary. This was a man cleaning away worries, not soil.
“Taxes?” I asked lightly, as though it were idle conversation. As his shoulders eased, mine did too. “They’re higher this year?”
