I stepped out of his embrace, trying not to cry when I saw the pain in his eyes. It was going to rip through me to walk away. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Be well,” Tempest said.
I nibbled on my nail and nodded.
She couldn’t wish me love, only good health. Because there was no way I was going to fall in love with the Evergorne king.
I took the broad stone steps to the cobblestone street with the weight of their sorrow dragging down my spine. To reach the harbor, I had to walk through or around the big open market set up in the town square. I chose to stride among those shopping, dipping my head in a polite way when anyone made eye contact.
Women wore simple blouses and skirts, the men tunics and dark pants. Boots. I didn’t see much adornment, but this part of Lydel had been overrun by a monster and he’d sucked away all the power and coin from the region. We’d killed him, but his rule had left a wide-open scab that would take time to heal.
Vendors had set up their wares around the periphery of the market, and they called out to everyone passing.
Jewelry!
Hot meat pies.
A new dress for the lady?
I ignored them, though I had enough coins to buy whatever caught my eye, thanks to my brother. He’d insisted, and I wasn’t above taking money I might one day need.
While I hadn’t met King Merrick, I abhorred fae kings in general. I’d helped kill the only one I’d encountered. If I’d learned anything since arriving in faerie, it was that the fae truly were wicked, and they’d happily use their wickedness on me. If this one was as nasty as the dead one, King Merrick might very well join the first in the grave. A woman needed money if she hoped to escape prosecution for doing something like that.
Because I wore a battle-scuffed black leather tunic and pants and had armed myself with my favorite sword in a sheath running down my spine and throwing blades at my sides, most cast me a wary look before giving me wide berth. I wouldn’t hesitate to poke someone with a blade if challenged, but I wouldn’t hurt anyone as long as they left me alone.
A dark cloaked male followed me, slinking from one shadow to the next while I remained beneath the lights. Did he think I hadn’t seen him stalking me? His muscular build and height well above my own told me he was male, though he’d hidden his face within the hood of his cloak. Whenever I looked back, I found him there, following the same number of paces behind.
I couldfeelhis attention, and I didn’t like it. Did he hope to steal from me?
I picked up my pace, almost to a jog, and darted around people, aiming for the street on the other side of the market, leading to the harbor. I’d board the ship and if he still followed, I’d wave and send him a grin. He’d have to look elsewhere for an easy mark.
I’d nearly reached the other side of the market and could see the harbor peppered with tall ships silhouetted by the rising silvery moon when a vendor called out something odd.
“Live meat,” he shouted. There was nothing unusual about meat, butlive? “One slice of your blade and a quick blood draining, and you’re well on your way to a hearty meal.”
I wasn’t sure why I stopped or why I turned to look back. But when I saw the creature trapped inside the pen by his boots, its wild eyes spiraling at the crowd, I couldn’t make my feet go any farther.
Nyxins were rare. The shy, dog-like creatures might sneak into your chicken coop at night to steal eggs or a sleepy bird or two, but they ran before you could get a solid view. I’d only caught a few glimpses of the one that lived near the fortress, its steely gray fur ruffling in the wind, its ears pricked forward as it sprung at mice hiding in the deep grass. Catching one look at me, that one had bolted, its fluffy silver tail flipping out behind it as it scampered back into the woods.
This nyxin was about to become someone’s meal.
The faeatenyxins?
When the creature’s panic-stricken gaze met mine, I had no choice. I couldn’t let someone murder it.
I strode toward the vendor, but people shuffled in front of me, making me come to jerky halts before I could move forward again. By the time I reached the man selling the nyxin, someone else was handing over coins.
“He’s a big un, too,” the vendor said with a grand smile. “I gave you a deal.”
“I’m buying the nyxin,” I said firmly.
The elderly woman with scars on her cheeks and dingy gray eyes scowled my way, her lips peeling back to reveal jagged fangs. “You can’t have this one.”
Oh, yes, I could. I rested my hand on the hilt of the blade strapped to my side.
Her gaze traveled to my waist, and she sneered. “What are you going to do with that, precious? Gut me over a nyxin? Find your own.”
The nyxin watched us, whining and scrambling its claws against the door of the cage.
