They made it two blocks before Zanna spoke. “You’re quiet. I find it alarming.”
Zanna was a perceptive woman. How to answer that? “I was just thinking…What have I got myself into?”
Zanna chuckled. “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say.”
Mistel wasn’t sure how to take that. “When I got hit with that roll, it surprised me and hurt my feelings a little. But it was fine. All part of singing in a place like that. I’ve performed for rowdier crowds, honestly. But when Cole stood up to defend me…He was so angry and determined. Then that man stepped forward…”
“And looked like he could use Cole for a toothpick?”
Mistel gaped at Zanna. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“I thought Cole needed me here,” Mistel said. “But if I wasn’t here, then he wouldn’t have to put himself in foolish situations like that to protect me. And if Thusk is really selling people out of the prison…that’s only going to worry Cole more.”
“That you said all that makes me like you,” Zanna said. “Just a little.”
Really? This fierce woman valued transparency? Mistel would never have guessed that. “I care about Cole. I think we’re better together than apart—singing, I mean.”
“You are good together.”
“Then he does need me?” Mistel asked. “And if I leave, he might not do as well. Right?”
Zanna lifted her hands. “Don’t ask me for advice about romance. I know nothing.”
“I wasn’t talking about romance. Not really. Cole is my friend. I care about him.”
“Platonically.”
Mistel thought about that. “Well, not exactly.”
Zanna growled at the sky. “I take it back. I hate you again.”
“I just want to make things better,” Mistel said. “But sometimes, I make things worse. Maybe I’m just too much? Too loud. Too reckless, like he said. I want to dive in and help, but what if I’m the reason he gets hurt? The reason we fail?”
Zanna gave Mistel a sharp look. “You’re not too much, Mistel. But you are a lot. And sometimes, a lot is what people need to wake up and see things differently. Don’t second-guess yourself. People who wait around for permission to live aren’t worth much in the end.”
Chapter 18
Cole
Some men had no shame.
Cole’s stiff fingers moved instinctively over his lute strings, but his focus drifted. Mistel danced and sang before him and Kurtz, her hair unbound and spiraling freely, her new red dress swirling around her legs. She was radiant—utterly in her element—and the way some onlookers gawked made Cole’s jaw tighten.
They had set up to play in the Dale, the city’s sprawling festival grounds where the community gathered to celebrate and compete. Though the vast amphitheater had a main stage and stone rings for feats of strength, the band kept to the open yard, near one of the many firepits that blazed against the afternoon chill. The flames in the pit crackled, sending glowing embers spiraling into the clear sky.
Distant laughter, music, clashes of steel, and the occasional burst of cheering did not distract their small audience. Coins clinked steadily into Mistel’s wide-brimmed farmer’s hat, which she’d tossed on the ground near the fire. They’d already earned more than the previous night at the Ice House—something to be thankful for—yet Cole couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at his bones.
Mistel was a firebrand, wild and untamable. He’d told her not to come to the Ice House, and she’d shown up anyway, as if his warnings had been mere suggestions. Keeping her out of trouble felt like trying to hold onto a lark determined to fly. Yes, he’d trusted her to Arman, but to what extent? Did Arman expect Cole to do nothing? Or had he put Cole here to act as Mistel’s protector? If the latter, Cole couldn’t afford to fail such a purpose.
The moment they’d stepped foot in the Dale, Kurtz had muttered, “Keep your eyes on her,” and Cole knew the advice had been sound. With the way Mistel flitted from one admirer to the next, gracing them all with her dazzling smile, some fool might get the wrong idea.
Snow fell, flurries at first, then flakes the size of rutahs, so they finally packed up and returned to the Ivory Spit. Zanna was working Ice Island today, so the trio played Citadel in the common room to pass the time. This allowed Rilla, who worked days, to chaperone Mistel until Zanna finished from her shift.
That night, their performance at the Ivory Spit earned them four times what they’d made at the Ice House. Merrygog was so pleased, he invited them back.
The next day, they went back to the Dale. The snow had lightened, as had the crowds, but they still earned twelve rutah just from passersby, which thrilled Mistel until Cole reminded her they weren’t here to build a career as musicians. They needed to get hired at the Black Boar. And he still had no idea how they’d get to Ice Island to speak with his uncle. Cole had sent two letters to Verdot Amal. So far, no response. And Zanna told him that guards weren’t permitted to bring visitors.
