Sam departed from my side, closely eyeing the pretty satchels at an adjacent booth. I waited a second, then followed after Evergreen.
He still looked tense. I thought to tease him, to lighten the air but wasn’t sure how.
“Was she pretty?” I asked, arriving to his left. “Your skeleton?”
Cyrus didn’t answer. He muttered a number to the salesman instead. “Fifteen.”
“It’s marked twenty-two,” the man returned. He flipped the dagger in Mr. Evergreen's hand to show him its price.
“Seventeen?” he asked.
“He just said it’s twenty-two,” I said, pointing to the tag. “It’s right there.”
Cyrus looked at me.
The seller said, “Twenty. Since she’s your wife.”
“I’m not his wife,” I said.
The seller shrugged. “Fine. Twenty-two.”
“Twenty is too high,” Evergreen said.
“It’s Damascus,” the merchant replied.
“Oh! Ilove Damascus,"I shared.
Cyrus sighed. “Love?” He pointed toward the aisle. “Go stand over there, would you?”
I scoffed.
He addressed the merchant again. “It might be Damascus but it’s not a sword; it’s a boot dagger at best.”
“Mr. Evergreen,” I said.
He turned a little, with a plain, “Yes.”
“Yes?”I asked.
“Yes. She was pretty,” he said. He spun the dagger, titling it to check its balance.
“Look, it’s twenty or not yours,” the merchant told him.
“I’ve got eighteen,” Cyrus said.
“Prettier than me?” I asked.
“Eurgh,” the seller made a sound.
“No. That would be impossible,” Evergreen replied. He set the dagger down and placed his hand on the small of my back, moving us on.
The merchant stopped him. “You don’t want it?”
“Not for twenty,” he said.
“Are you so cheap?” I asked.
Cyrus did a double take. “Did you take a job with this man, Your Highness?”
