Taeven peered over my shoulder. “It appears to be. Would you like to go in?”
“Do they take Stalanian coin here?” I asked hesitantly.
“No.” He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “But I'm happy to buy you whatever you desire. You can work it off later in bed.”
“Did you just suggest that I whore myself to you for spices?” I asked with a broad grin. “Because I totally will. Whatever you want me to do.Anything.”
Taeven laughed and turned toward his knights. “Go ahead without us. Get a table at Grannelt's and order their special for both of us. We'll be along shortly.”
“Yes, my lord.” Daron bowed, gave me a heavy look, and left with the others.
“He thinks you're upset with him,” Taeven murmured as he opened the shop's door for me.
“Who, Daron?” I asked in surprise. “I thought he was upset with me.”
“He . . . I'm not sure how he feels about you. Daron can be secretive. But he mentioned that he feels guilty for telling you about the glimpse of souls.”
“He told you about our talk?” I asked, but I was distracted, and my voice trailed off as I stepped into the shop.
A U-shaped counter formed a barrier between the center of the shop and the walls, which were lined in shelves, many of them filled with square drawers, labeled with the names of spices I'd never heard of. Another counter ran down the middle of the central space, with enormous glass containers in fanciful shapes atop it. Chunks of raw spices filled the containers and silver sample plates of the ground spice sat before them. The floor, ceiling, shelves, and counters were all made of the same, reddish-brown wood, polished to a dull shine, and the scent of all those spices combined to become a heavenly smell that was like an aromatic hug.
I went up to a counter in a daze. “By all that's holy,” I whispered as I stared at the hundreds of jars of spices on the shelves above the drawers. “I didn't know there were so many.”
“My lords!” A Glastig woman with dark hair down to her hips sashayed over to us, her hooves clicking on the floorboards. “Aviansandsoldiers? How unusual. Welcome to Frehan.”
“Thank you.” Tae nodded. “I'm the Falcon Lord, Taeven Rumerra, and this is my valorian, Shane.”
“A warlord and his valorian in my shop!” She clapped her hands in delight. “The Goddess smiles upon me today. How may I help you?”
“My valorian is a baker,” Tae explained. “He's a little overwhelmed by your selection.”
“A baker?” She cocked her head at me. “I have many spices that do well in bread and some better suited to desserts.”
“Actually, I was hoping to bring back presents for my chef friends too. Only one of them is a baker like me.”
“Human chefs,” she said pensively. “You'll want the most exotic of my spices; things that can't be found in Stalana.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
“Oh, darling, you don't have to call me that. Please, I am Revana. Now, you just wait there, and I'll put together collections of spices for you and your friends. How many chefs are there?”
“Um.” I did a mental count. “Five chefs, one baker, not including me.” I looked at Tae. “Is that all right?”
“As I said, whatever you desire.” He grinned.
“In exchange for whatever you desire?” I lifted a brow.
“Indeed.”
“Oh, my, howluscious,” Revana purred. “I'll be right back, lovebirds.”
With that, she twirled away, and I gaped after her. I knew that faeries were accepting of any lifestyle, but I hadn't expected such outright approval. Sure, Tae and I had held hands as we'd walked down the street, but having a stranger make such a comment to me, so freely, was . . . well, it was fucking liberating. I grinned broadly at Taeven.
“You can be whoever you wish in Varalorre,” he said softly, accurately interpreting my look. He brushed a hand over my ponytail. “Why don't you wear your hair loose here? You won't be baking.”
“Oh, uh.” I ran a hand over my slicked-back hair self-consciously. “You like it down?”
“I like being able to run my hands through it. And grab a handful.”
