I was impressed. The colors said as much about the buildings as they did about the people who inhabited them.
Eventually, one of the narrow streets led us to the busy port, and I could immediately see why Tarben liked it. Vessels of varying shapes, sizes, and hues dotted the calm waters, mirroring the playful colors of the nearby structures. Its docks were bustling with merchants and sailors loading and unloading cargo, as well as passengers readying themselves for upcoming voyages. Its vast pier was home to inns, taverns, and a thriving marketplace that stretched out as far as the eye could see.
“This is my favorite place in the city,” said Tarben as we dismounted and headed for the marketplace.
It was similar to the market square at the entrance of the city, but bigger. Far bigger. This was a sprawling terrain of wooden carts and colorful canopies. Amidst the fresh, ocean breeze, clear skies and sunshine, it pulsed with vibrancy.
For what seemed like hours, we wandered through the market. Against a current of fast-paced bodies, we took our time. Over the clamor of vendors calling out, loud chatter and lively haggling, we talked and laughed.
It was easier than I expected, immersing myself in the experience. Enjoying Tarben’s company.
I marveled at all that was on offer: textiles of every fabric and color, fragrant spices from eastern Anerdor, lush perfumes, trinkets and talismans to bring good fortune and ward off evil, fruit, meat, fish, flowers—so many different kinds, each as lovely as the last. Tarben watched in patient amusement as I flitted from bunch to bunch, inhaling the sweet aromas and interrogating the florists over the names of each species.
When I was finally ready to pull myself away, Tarben presented me with a lavender-petaled flower with a yolk-like disk—an aster. My body stilled as he gently placed it behind my ear and declared, “Stunning,” in a low voice. The sweet moment was somewhat tarnished when my stomach chose that exact moment to release a resounding growl.
“Time to feed you,” Tarben said, lips twitching. “I know the perfect place.”
Taking my hand, he bustled us towards a corner of the market dominated by food vendors that smelled of smoked fish and meat pies.
No less than five minutes later, we stood watching street performers juggling and doing acrobatics while eating sticks of warm meat. I was apprehensive at first, but it only took one bite to convert me. I enjoyed the unusual taste of spicy and rich and salty with a hint of sweetness. Tarben laughed as he watched me tear into it, all manners and dignity forgotten the moment the explosion of flavors unleashed themselves in my mouth.
My grandmother would have been appalled.
Once we were finished, Tarben bought us each a pastry covered in cinnamon and sugar. “A local delicacy,” he said. I devoured it. So much so that he bought us another two. “I’ll be sure to have Cook make them for you at the castle, now that I know you’re partial to them,” he promised, eyes dancing with mirth.
Bellies full and sufficiently entertained, we strolled back towards Saltswift. As we neared the sunshine-colored tavern where we had left him hitched to a post, a male voice boomed from behind us: “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the princeling.”
Chapter 15
I turned to find that the source of the voice was a brawny man swaggering towards us. My heart sank. So far, no one had seemed to recognize Tarben. I suspected it was because of how casually he was dressed. My mind automatically went into a state of alert. Would people swarm us once they realized their prince was amongst them?
I opened my mouth to suggest we make a swift exit, but Tarben was already addressing the man. “They’ll let anyone into this city these days.” His tone was lighthearted and he embraced the man like he was a long-lost relative. Some of the tightness in my shoulders eased.
The man flung his arms open in declaration. “The fine ladies of this city have spoken, and I listened.”
“Or there’s a troupe of jesters in town desperate for new candidates.”
They turned their attention to me, both chuckling. The stranger gave me a lazy once-over, not bothering to hide his appreciation.
I stared back defiantly; I was not one to shrivel up like a withering flower under the male gaze. The stranger was tall and heavily muscled with golden hair that met his broad shoulders. His neatly-trimmed beard matched the color of his hair and his tawny eyes held a predatory gleam. He reminded me of a lion. Aself-assured lion, wearing a sword sheathed on each hip and a thick bandage wrapped around his left hand.
“And who isthis?” He eyed me like I was his next meal.
Tarben shot him a warning glare. “Alara, please meet this cocky brute, otherwise known as Lord Magnus.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Lord?” I didn’t bother to disguise my scoff.
“I know. It’s hard to believe that someone this handsome could be born of nobility,” he quipped.
Tarben rolled his eyes. “Please take no notice of him. He’s been away at the border where I can only assume he has been devoid of any civilized company for weeks.”
“Certainly not any that looks likethat.” His eyes swept over my body once again.
My lip curled. “What is it that you did at the border,LordMagnus? Did you carry heavy loads alongside the other asses?”
Tarben and Magnus exchanged a look, then the latter burst into raucous laughter.
“She’s got a mouth on her,” he said to Tarben, which only irritated me more. I ground my teeth.Cocky brute indeed.
