“Feed us all,” Lyssara corrected.
Before they could move on, Essie drifted toward a vendor with a glowing clay oven and stacks of blistered sweet potatoes, nestled in their skins and steaming in the cool morning air. Smoke curled around them like warm hands.
Nythir didn’t even ask her if she wanted any. He silently paid the vendor immediately while she drooled.
The vendor wrapped a sweet potato in parchment and handed it to Essie with a knowing nod.
She held it reverently, inhaling. The warmth seeped into her fingers, turning her cheeks pink.
Nythir felt something in his chest tighten. He watched her entire soul leave her body on her first bite.
“This is…” she whispered. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“It’s just a sweet potato,” he said, amused.
“No,” she insisted. “It’s freedom flavored.”
He nearly choked.
They ate it together as they walked, Essie’s steps bouncing.
Her hair caught the sunlight in wild gold tangles while her laughter drifted between the vendors like a bell.
“I’ve never eaten while walking before,” she admitted quietly. “I wasn’t allowed.”
He stopped mid-step.
No breakfast.
No walking.
No boots.
No choices.
He exhaled slowly.
“You’re allowed now,” he said.
Her smile was small but bright.
“I know.”
Something warm flickered in his chest.
“Oh, Helga,” Lyssara called out to a young dwarf whose pointed hat added two feet to her. It was a bright pink triangle that really stood out in the crowded streets. Gaudy but practical. “I need some clothes delivered to our room at Moonpetal.”
Lyssara flicked a gold coin—picked from the bodies in Ashvale—with flawless aim. Helga snatched it out of the air and bit it.
Nythir would never understand how mangled corpses didn’t bother Lyssara at all, but a zombie squirrel had traumatized her for life.
“What would you like, Mrs. Lyssara?” Helga said, biting the gold coin to check its authenticity. “I've got a few new leathers and furs delivered just today!”
“It's not for me. It's for the missy back there.” She pointed over her shoulder.
“I can pay for it myself,” Essie said too loudly, fumbling through her satchel, before remembering it had a massive hole in it.
All that remained was lint and shame.
