She slid them on and then the boots, hating the feel of them, but she could admit they were beautiful for shoes. They weren’t riding boots or combat boots. No, these were purely for aesthetics with pointed toes and a slight lift at the heel. Silver buckles and branded designs on the leather. They were as frivolous as the necklace at her throat.
Reaching for the crystal, she twisted it between her fingers as she turned back to Razik. “What, exactly, are we going to do in town?”
“There are merchants traveling through Aimonway,” he answered while she retrieved the cloak from where she’d tossed it on the bed.
Slinging it around her shoulders, she asked skeptically, “You intend to go shopping?”
“No, I intend for you to practice being among the people you are going to rule over,” he said, watching her clasp the silver clip of the cloak. Then he extended a hand to her. “Are you ready?”
“You can Travel from these rooms?”
He smirked. “I’m your personal guard, Lia. The wards were altered last night in case you needed rescuing.”
She rolled her eyes. “If anyone is going to need rescuing, it’s Cethin.”
Razik gave a low chuckle of amusement. “Believe me. I know.” He motioned with his hand again with a knowing look. “It’s only for a moment.”
Apparently she was just as painfully obvious with what made her uncomfortable. Both Razik and Cethin had clearly deciphered how much she abhorred physical touch.
Focusing on not wincing, she placed the tips of her fingers in his palm, but it was enough. A moment later, she stood in the center of the city. The exact place she’d first spoken to Cethin.
The sun was shining, but there was still a chill in the air as the winter season desperately tried to cling to life despite spring having arrived. Instead of market stands, there were carts parked along the roads, any manner of merchandise for sale.
“Now what?” she asked, swiping strands of hair from her face as a small breeze flitted around them.
“Now you practice being among other people,” Razik said simply. “Don’t try to shrink to the sidelines or blend in. As soon as the betrothal is formally announced, that will never happen again unless you’re in your magic.”
“I don’t like people,” she muttered, already on edge at the crowds milling around and haggling with merchants. “These people just travel around with carts of trinkets?”
“They’re traveling merchants, yes,” Razik answered, walking down the road.
She hurried to keep up, her boots clicking on the stone. The sound was terrible. How would she hear anyone approaching over the sound of her own godsdamn footwear?
“Throughout the entire kingdom?” she asked, falling into step beside him. She didn’t fail to notice he shortened his stride for her.
“Most of these merchants stay on this side of the Nightmist Mountains, but there are some who venture west. But the merchants on the other side of the mountains get territorial. There’s an unspoken pact of sorts among them all,” Razik replied, head up and eyes watching everything.
They walked in silence for a bit, and she took the opportunity to get used to the various noises and the presence of people in general. Razik subtly herded her closer and closer to the crowds until they were forced to skirt around them as they wound their way through the people.
Elbows brushed her cloak, and hips bumped into her. She gritted her teeth as every touch burned, heightened by her dream last night.
“Breathe, Kailia,” Razik said, his voice low. With a jerk of his chin, he added, “Let’s go that way. Take a moment.”
He led the way to the edge of the crowd, parting a path for her, and she loosed a heavy breath. She’d hardly lasted a few minutes. Razik moved nearer to a cart, and she followed, sticking close. Watching everyone around her. Fingering the dagger she had strapped to her thigh beneath her dress, it offered a sick sense of comfort. She wasn’t going to stab anyone.
Probably.
“Can we go back now?” she asked when the crowd began to swell around them again.
“The way to break patterns and habits is to get uncomfortable, Lia,” he replied absentmindedly.
She turned to find him studying an array of gold objects. From small statues to decorative engravings to platters and bowls, he seemed to look each item over with care.
“All items are from over the mountains,” came a raspy voice as a male stepped into view. Immortal as most were in Avonleya, Kailia could still tell he was a traveler. From the wool coat and thick boots, to the scruff on his face and dirt on his hands. The raspy voice, though, was from the pipe he was puffing on, tobacco smoke drifting into the air.
When Razik only hummed at his statement, the male straightened a little more, puffing out his chest. “Overthe mountains,” he repeated. Then he dropped his voice to scarcely a whisper. “From the Runic Lands.”
“I already knew they were fake before you told such a blatant lie,” Razik said flatly.
