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Nessa lifts her chin. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“Good.”
“I can manage him.”
“That worries me more than if you admitted you were terrified.”
“I am not helpless, Fiona.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Her challenge strikes close because I have spent years treating wounds, fevers, hunger, and fear as tasks placed in front of me. Nessa does not want treatment. She wants control over a situation that has stripped it from her.
I soften my voice. “Noble houses use humans as disposable pieces. They offer protection until the price of keeping us exceeds the value of what they want. Then they deny we ever served them.”
“I’ve heard the stories.”
“So had the people in them.”
“I said I can manage it.”
Before I can answer, armor rings against stone at the eastern edge of the market.
Conversation around us falters. Human vendors lower their eyes. Customers move aside, creating a path through the crowded lane.
Four Morwen’thir guards enter beneath the black-and-silver crest of their house.
They are Zagfer, taller than any human nearby, their pale hair bound beneath fitted helms. Their armor is immaculate. Winter mud does not cling to their boots. One carries a spear with a dark metal blade, while the others wear swords at their hips.
The lead guard surveys the market.
His gaze passes over thin produce, patched awnings, and human faces without interest. We are not people to him. We are a settlement to be counted, taxed, and kept from obstructing the road.
Nessa straightens behind the stall.
One guard stops beside the imported spices. He picks up the jar of red powder and turns it toward the weak daylight.
“How much?”
Nessa names the price.
He sets the jar down without looking at her. “Too much for spoiled stock.”
“It is not spoiled, honored guard.”
His eyes settle upon her.
Nessa lowers her gaze. Every human near enough to hear waits for the cost of her correction.
The guard lifts the lid, smells the spice, and replaces it. “Your display is blocking the lane.”
The stall stands in the same position it has occupied for twelve years.
“We will move it,” Nessa says.
The patrol continues.
