“If Lore is what you want to see, then that’s what we’ll do,” she whispered.
“That’s what I want,” I said as I stared at that Goddess-damned scar above her lip. My heart lurched toward her, a deep need to lick and caress that scar until she begged for more.
“As you wish, princess.” Our mouths were almost touching—I abruptly pushed her away.
“Don’t call me princess.”
“Don’t look like one then.”
I heaved an irritated sigh. There was no winning with her, even when I certainly didn’t look even close to a princess. My clothes were all but ruined thanks to mud, snags, and my perpetual habit of getting dirt everywhere all the time. Even Marielle’s enchanted waters couldn’t wash away these stains.
We snaked our way through the bustling town streets, every vendor like a little world in and of itself. One had swathes of gold fabric that caught the sun like waves on the water. Another had intricate music boxes, each one with figurines dancing to their own music. And all of thepastries. My stomach gave a loud growl.
Hesper, used to my internal tirades at this point, picked up her pace. We found an inn almost immediately. I expected for us to be turned away—unknown travelers in clothing unfamiliar to these lands—but the innkeeper was kind. He even offered for Warty and Edge to stay with us, but they opted to sleep on a roof for the evening.
There was only one room, of course. Because why not have another unhelpful trope thrown my way? Reading about chosen ones, quests, magical beasts, and forced proximity? Sign me up. But when theyallhappen in my actual life? Sign me out. Don’t include me.
I’m not home; post your message to a pigeon that will get lost on its way.
Even so, even if there were more rooms available, Hesper and I needed to stay side by side. And with Margast and stories of Thanadyn fresh in my mind, I didn’t want to risk an evening alone. We could discuss who would sleep where later.
Hesper inquired to the innkeeper about a boat, and he offered his services for the next morning.
“Where are you off to anyhow?” His voice reminded me of old parchment, crisp and worn.
“Dwindle,” Hesper replied.
His bushy eyebrows rose above his large spectacles. “I have never been there before! Hope the Irk isn’t too bad for you two. But by the looks of it, you’ve already had unseemly travels.” He chuckled, slamming his innkeeper book closed and tittering away.
With our room key in hand, we headed back out into the streets.
The pastry vendors were our first stop—and our second,and our third. I couldn’t get enough of the delicacies surrounding us. My sweet tooth was consistently reliable, but these pastries weren’t the normal jam tarts I’d partaken of before. No, these sweets were a whole world bursting in my mouth.
The golden, syrupy treats I’d spotted when we first arrived turned out to be soaked with rum and shaped like tiny mushrooms. I didn’t know just how soaked they were until I bit into one, and the rum squirted right down my already badly stained tunic. The vendor, a willowy woman with skin as golden as her hair, laughed and then spoke in Fëhyen—the tongue of the southernmost part of the Golden Isles. She sent me on my way with three additional rummy mushrooms I didn’t even pay for.
A nutty, earthy smell wafted through the air, and I followed my nose to a table sprawling with pillowy soft buns covered in what looked to be black seeds.
“Each bite tells a story,” the vendor said in Irpiti. They truly did. With each mouthful, legends of fox ghosts and ancient kingdoms built to reach the clouds danced in my mind. I purchased more buns than Hesper and I could eat, but I managed for us both.
Hesper stopped at a weapons seller, the knives dangling dangerously from the ceiling of the tent. While she was occupied, I took the liberty of buying myself new clothes. I hated to ditch my trusty travel cloak and dress, but they were beyond repair at this point. At least my walking boots had miraculously survived the quest thus far. The seller, who was bent over fabrics, let me slip behind her tent to change. I purchased a linen tunic that had lavender embroidered on thefront, pantswithpockets and images of tiny mushrooms, radishes, and frogs hidden here and there, and a dress I couldn’t pass up. It was utterly useless for our journey, but the silky green fabric reminded me of Rosie. I put the dress on and relished how soft it felt on my skin.
I emerged from behind the tent, and Hesper was there to meet me. She twirled a new knife in her hand, but when she saw me, it clattered to the ground.
“See something you like?” I winked.
The dress was more of a slip than anything else. I usually prefer layers and layers of oversized tunics and dresses, but when in Lore…
“She looks like a vision, no?” the dress seller asked over her shoulder, still busying herself with arranging fabrics.
“Yes, yes she does,” Hesper said with a nod. I swished the dress back and forth, savoring the whimsy of it all.
“It’s not useful,” I said, twirling about.
“Not everything has to be useful,” Hesper replied. “Though, I can think of a few ways that dress could be very useful.”
I stumbled over a cobblestone, twirling right into her hard chest. She caught me, her large hands steadying me. For a moment, I didn’t move away, didn’t shrink from her closeness. Perhaps all the pastries had turned my mind into honey because all I wanted to do was to melt into her, close any distance there ever was between us.
“What a lovely pair you two make,” the seller said, bursting through the moment. I quickly moved away from Hesper, smoothing out my dress. “Don’t stop dancing on my account.”
