Amaris stepped back to give her room, purposely finding the toe of Theo’s boot. She further leaned back, and Theo forced his lips tight before he snapped at her.
“For the four jars, it’ll be four silver pieces. Will you be paying up front, or would you like to open a line of credit?”
This time, Amaris did stare at Theo, and he remembered Amaris didn’t have the same luxuries as other servants of the manor with steady pay.
“Up front,” Theo interjected, reaching into his pouch to fish out the silver.
The shopkeeper wrapped the jars in cloth, placing them into a satchel.
Amaris slung it over her head. “Thank you…”
“Brelynn,” the shopkeeper finished, “but my customers call me Brela.”
“Brela?” Theo questioned. “As in the Goddess of Trickery?”
“My parents chose a ridiculous name, so I went about using an even more absurd nickname. It’s quite fitting, though, for the oddity of this shop, and I suppose the people who frequent here as well.”
Before Brela could retreat behind her banner, Theo stopped her. “The ship in the case over there…what does ‘aslorn per de eclahard’ mean?”
She inclined a brow and smirked. “Brace for her storm.” She waved them off and retreated to her back room.
Theo stepped out onto the cobbled streets.Brace for her storm. What could Isabel have meant by that? What storm?
Theo turned to Amaris, who looked all too inclined to ask what had happened in there. “Are you hungry?” he hastily asked.
“I’m fine,” she lied, while her stomach growled.
“Too bad, because I am.” Theo whisked her off before she could ask her question. He took her to his favorite tavern and ordered two silver rolls.
“What’s this?” she asked, poking the silverling meat. She must have been truly sheltered.
“It’s best to eat and not ask what’s in it. But if you must know, it’s my favorite dish,” he said through a mouthful.
“Why do you bring up the war if you don’t want to talk about it?” Her blue eyes cut through his shield, threatening to pull apart the mended stitch in his mind.
The muscles of his neck tensed, and he waited for the blood to taint the dimly lit tavern and the panic to lay siege to his heart. Maybe it was something within that food-packed smile, or his prayer was answered by the gods, but the panic didn’t take hold of him.
“It bothers you.” She lowered her voice, drawing out a whispering note.
“I presume you assessed that in the shop.”
“It’s part of my job to see that stuff too. You had this far-off look in your eyes,” she said, sucking the silverling juices off her fingers. “And you grabbed your dagger.”
Theo fought the urge to grab for it now.
“Is that what happened in the throne room?”
Theo ignored her and asked, “There are things that bother you, but you wish not to speak of them?”
“Sure,” she harrumphed, turning her nose up. For a woman no taller than a few inches past five feet, she had the ability to stifle the size of any opponent to bring them to her level.
“I lost good people,” Theo confessed. He fought back the heaviness in his chest. Their names on the tip of his tongue.
Stopping mid-bite, she recoiled deeper into the bench. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Is that where you got that?” She pointed to where the scar hid underneath his sleeve.
He paused but couldn’t bring himself to continue. “A story for another time,” he breathed. “We should get back to the manor and begin the next set of doses.”
He stood from the table, slithering through the afternoon rush. The tavern door closed as a fiddle struck its first tune, but he began the trek back to the manor with Amaris hurrying in step to catch up.
