He gave her that look. “Little one.”
“Fine. I intended to use it all the time.”
His mouth twitched.
She picked up the necklace she’d just finished and held it towards the light. Blue stone alternated with tiny silver beads, the colors reminding her of sunlight on snow.
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s beautiful.”
“You say that about everything I make.”
“Because everything you make is beautiful.”
“You’re biased.”
“Yes.”
The simple admission made her smile. She laid the necklace carefully in the padded box with the other finished pieces. “These are the ones I’m taking down to Zemma. You can carry the box.”
“Ah. Now we reach the real reason you want me to accompany you.”
“Well, you are very useful.”
His laugh followed her into the main cave.
Port Eyeja sprawled before them as the sleigh crested the last ridge, the landing field gleaming dully in the distance, with three ships currently grounded—a battered freighter, a sleek private vessel, and something squat and ugly that looked like it might be held together with duct tape.
A year ago, this view would have frozen her solid.
Now she looked at the crowded streets, the unfamiliar species moving between market stalls, the shadows where anything might be lurking, and she felt only a manageable flutter of wariness. It was still there. Maybe it always would be. But it no longer ruled her.
They left the sleigh at the stable near the gate and walked into Port Eyeja together, side by side, his massive frame a warm wall between her and the worst of the crowd. But she walked with her head up and her shoulders back, nodding to traders she’d come to recognize, and pausing to examine goods that caught her eye without the fear that she’d be grabbed and taken.
Zemma’s shop sat in a sunny corner of the market square, squeezed between a furrier and a shop selling imported spices. The young Hothian female had transformed the narrow space into a glittering cave of treasures. Jewelry hung from every wall, displayed on dark fur and polished wood, while crystal lamps made the pieces sparkle.
She still experienced a ridiculous little thrill every time she saw something she’d made in the window. Today it held three of her necklaces. One was gone before they left.
“See?” Zemma said triumphantly as the elegantly dressed Kaisarian female swept out of the shop with her purchase. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
She looked at the empty display stand. “That offworlders have more credits than sense?”
“That too.” Zemma flashed her fangs in a cheerful grin. She was Baralt’s sister and the only Hothian female who had chosen to live outside the caves, largely because her mate was a huge Bukharan male. The clan had accepted Polly readily enough, butthey remained considerably less welcoming of strange males. Zemma, however, seemed perfectly content with her mate and her shop in Port Eyeja.
“My point is that they’re willing to pay for something they can’t buy anywhere else,” Zemma continued.
“They’re just beads.”
“They’re Hothrest beads. Hothrest bone, Hothrest stone, and local crystal.” Zemma waved an impatient claw. “They’re souvenirs, but they’re beautiful souvenirs. In fact…”
She eyed the other female suspiciously. “In fact what?”
Zemma’s blue eyes gleamed.
“I’ve been talking to Gralar. The resort already sells luxury jewelry, but it’s all imported. He wants more local goods.”
Njkall made an approving sound from behind her.
