“The Merry Sheridan.” Theo followed in step beside her as they descended the stairs leading to the city.
She paused before the wall surrounding the manor, staring up at the sentries posted for the day. Her swallow was audible, but they took no heed of her as Theo offered each of them a curt nod.
“Am I allowed—”
“As the mystique, it’s customary to see you milling through the city. Ifyou weren’t, the people would think you were imaginary.”
“Oh.” She sighed and raked a hand though her hair. It’d started curling around her crown, and the ends had begun to form small ringlets, as if remembering a time where it’d once held voluminous tendrils.
Her home grew more perplexing as her story began to unravel, especially as her hair appeared to not have felt a salty breeze in years. Her accent wasn’t of Godwin, but it wasn’t likely she came from an island in the Black Sea. Asking where she was from had been on the tip of his tongue, along with further questioning her regarding her betrothed. The small caress of her finger over her cheek when she’d spoken of him told more than she would ever reveal, and it heated Theo’s blood.
Their stroll drew them closer to the bustling streets of the city. She gaped at the cobbled road and darted her gaze around at the towering buildings around them. Her lips parted as her head whipped back and forth, eyeing the glass-windowed shops and the open windows above with families chattering. Laundry lines were strung up, and blankets and garments flapped as a briny breeze swept in from the bay.
They pushed deeper through the beginnings of the city, and Amaris’s eyes grew larger with each step. It was the look of someone who’d never set eyes on Luana Bay, and a part of Theo felt a certain elation to be the one to show her. He’d always been proud to hail from here, not because of his birthright but because of the people.
Rounding the corner to pass through the open street market, she gasped at the crowd. Tents of varying colors lined the cobbled street filled with vendor carts, some wobbly and sagging, while others were robust. The tenants swarmed the carts, their chatter catching Theo’s ear as they went about their daily shopping.
Amaris’s hand latched on to his arm. His eyes drifted to the white knuckles of her fingers digging into his forearm.
“Are you not accustomed to busy towns?” Theo hollered over the shouting and haggling of the street merchants.
The space between them tightened as she attempted to avoid getting swept up in the crowd. “No, I’ve been to busy cities, but when I first saw it…it isn’t at all what I thought it would be.”
“What did you picture it to be in the daytime?”
“I don’t know. Maybe less normal shopping and more…” It seemed she couldn’t even bring herself to express what she thought.
“Well, I can assure you that Luana Bay is as normal as it comes.”
The corners of her lips turned up, but Theo averted his face instead of returning a smile of his own. Her fingers loosened their grip around his arm, but she still clung to his shirt as he dragged her through the crowd. She watched with great intensity the business of the street vendors. As they had doses for the next two days and weren’t in the greatest hurry, he allowed her to stop at several booths to see what they were selling.
She was continually astonished, like she’d never seen the vibrant life of a market either. Even her toes kept catching on the uneven cobblestones beneath their feet, as if unaccustomed to the everyday road structure. Some villages and towns, such as Westbury, were still supported with dirt roads.
What if she was betrothed to a Grant and had traveled from Westbury? It was a different direction than Duncaster, but if she’d been running from him, he could’ve followed her. Her haste could have sent her into the woods. His father could protect her if she were being harmed. No woman had ever come forward from Westbury, but they heard rumors of the ongoings behind closed doors.
They stopped at a painter’s booth after Amaris requested to see each piece of art. Her eyes locked on a painting of the night sky, her fingers hovering over the stars, as if she were trying to make out the constellations. Unfortunately, only Edgar’s Shield was depicted. What could’ve been a beautiful sight was tainted with its focus on the God of War. Amaris sighed as she moved to the next landscape canvas.
“Do you admire art?” Theo asked.
“I love it,” she admitted. “I used to draw but not much anymore.”
“How come?”
She gave Theo a thin smile, shrugging. “Life got in the way.” She perked up at the lively cadence of a fiddle. “Is that music?”
A small band was set up outside The Merry Sheridan, bustling a Gorrin tune. She tapped her foot and held her arms. Something attempted to break through her grim mask. The lines around her eyes creased, and a single dimple poked into her cheek. Not long ago, Theo thought he’d never see anyone with a look like that ever again, a genuine smile.
Something dropped in his chest, and he rubbed at his sternum as he took shelter beneath the canopy of the shop. It was heavy and began wrapping around him. It was similar to the moment in the throne room. For so long, he’d been feeling nothing besides the hilt of his dagger in his palm or the anger constantly skimming the surface of his skin. He took a deep breath, attempting to push whatever it was away.
He forced several deep breaths as he focused his eyes on Amaris clapping and humming along. With each next beat, it slowly receded. When the song finished and his chest felt as normal as it could be, he gestured with a nod to the shop door. Amaris headed in first, sending a chime to ring through the room as the door swung open.
“Feel free to look around. I’ll be with you in a moment.” A woman’s voice carried as a distant echo.
Amaris paused beside the front counter, gawking at the wall of herbs, the antiques displayed in glass cases, and the other oddities. She assessed her surroundings and stepped deeper into the shop.
Theo rubbed at his chest as he turned to a glass case with a small replica of a ship floating over a stormy sea. Its sails were black, and a serpent protruded from the bow with a forked tongue. He’d read about the pirate ship once called theSerpent. It was a deadly vessel, leaving no survivors, and had been rumored to sail as the flagship of the Pirate Queen’s armada. Theo settled his hand over his mouth as he read the label.
Epchatet. Bimpa monom per ditsa wafshom. Aslorn per de eclahard.
