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What if this wasn’t a dream? Unknowns of the universe were fascinating. Chatter of wormholes and alternate dimensions were popular enough that the first two years of my twenties were forever stamped by my Sci-Fi romance obsession.
It didn’t matter, not really. Locked in a dream, death, or thrust into another world, my opening was gone, and I was trapped.
CHAPTER 3
Adira
For the firsttime in what felt like decades, a broken sob sliced from somewhere deep in my chest. Whispers, eerie like a haunt in the dark, drifted through the rustle of leaves. With each movement, the ghostly voices faded, traveling further into the storm.
Haunted forest? Not a chance.
Send me to hell, give me mushroom-talking spirit guides, but Idid notdo ghosts.
Without a thought of the aches and bruises on my legs, I hugged my ruined shoes and sprinted up the road toward gentle hills, away from the trees.
By the time I reached the top of one hill, my lungs burned, dust and dirt were pasted in the damp on my cheeks, and blood dribbled down my left shin from a scrape I didn’t recall getting.
I tilted my head toward the storm, clinging to the strap over my shoulders, and tried to calm my pulse.
Down the slope was a long, dirt road that faded off into the distance. Along the sides were canvas tents, canopies with odd symbols, and cart after cart of shouting merchants as they held up their goods.
This was unbelievable.
People wove in and out of vendors, most dressed in furs overtheir shoulders, tall leather boots, and simple wool dresses with intricate beading. It was like I’d stumbled into one of the fairs I’d attended as a teen. A bit of warmth bloomed through my chest—safe and familiar all at once.
The trade. The woman had mentioned a trade. From what I knew of these types of settlements, this clearly stood as a market. Somewhere in there had to be this glass star, and with it, perhaps a guide to where I was or a way out.
I released a long breath, straightened my spine until it cracked, and took the first step into the trade square.
Rosemary and cloves burned from incense. Dried sprigs of lavender and dandelions dangled off carts. There were wooden pallets laden in fish and what I’d guess was eel or maybe snake. An unwanted wrinkle tugged at my nose when the scent of brine and blood and scales itched down my throat. I cut through two carts, aiming for fabrics, furs, and leathers.
Lines and layers of the trade seemed to go on forever. Swathed in mists and shadows from the impending storm clouds, merchants and hawkers shouted at children or spindly workers to tether the canvases and canopies.
Dark onyx coins printed in more runic symbols were tossed about, tarnished and heavy. They were dug from leather pouches and fur-lined pockets. Some were larger than others, some were more oval shaped rather than round.
I studied the exchange between a woman selling vibrant ribbons and a man hawking leather harnesses and boiled leather saddlebags.
My fingers twitched at my sides, almost desperate to touch some of the coin. Study it, take it. Good hell, I’d been working for Lloyd too long.
“By the goddess, child.” A woman with a knot of peppered hair gawked at me, stirring something in a large wooden bowl. Her eyes were startlingly silver, almost white against the whites with a bead of a pupil. “You look half-dressed. You injured?”
“Uh, no.” Dream people. They were here to help me on my journey. I promptly ignored how real this all felt—from the spray of damp in the wind, to the burn of stale sweat on too many bodies. Ismoothed my tight skirt and stepped beneath the woman’s overhanging blue canopy. “I’m, uh, I’m lost. I need to find a . . . glass star?”
“Ah. Brought an offering, have you?”
“Yes.” My fist curled around the curve of the silver band.
“Well, you’re half-naked, dearie.” The woman clicked her tongue, not in condescension, more concern. Until her pale eyes turned to sharp steel. “Weren’t ravished, were you? Speak true and I’ll be summoning the Kappi to go after them. We don’t take well to forcing our young ladies here.”
She thought I’d been raped. A burn of affection for her fiery protection bloomed through my chest. I took it the Kappi might mean their police, maybe.
I offered her a small smile. “No, nothing like that. Simply lost. I, uh, ruined some of my clothes.”
A bit of a guess, but the women here wore long dresses. Shoulders were buried beneath fur cloaks, but there’d been some who had plunging necklines. Seemed they didn’t mind showing their cleavage, but kneecaps—for shame.
Another scan up my body, the woman placed her bowl to the top of her selling stand and crouched. When she popped up again, she had a shoulder wrap with a full fox head on one end.
“At least keep warm until you can trade for new ones, my girl.”
