I’d been here once before, years ago. It hadn’t been this cold. Or maybe I just hadn’t felt it then.
“Strange place,” Jasira said lightly as we passed a crumbling shrine covered in moss. “Does anyone elsethink a disappointed librarian is watching us?”
Wyn laughed softly.
The sound curled against my ribs like warmth that didn’t belong.
Alaric, ever the performer, raised his arms with a flourish. “Graymere!” he declared. “Land of ghosts, goblets, and goats. Bran, let’s find something cursed to sniff.”
The warhound barked once and padded ahead, tail high.
We followed, turning down a narrower street near the square, where an old inn leaned at a tired angle beneath a creaking sign that readThe Hollow Hearth.
I dismounted first, boots splashing into the mud. Then I moved to help Wyn down, drawing out the moment longer than I needed to. Her hand found mine. She didn’t meet my eyes, but she lingered for a second too long.
We left the horses at the inn’s stables. Alaric took Bran and wandered off toward the market’s far end. Acacophony of good-natured negotiationbegan to swell, a clear indication that the day's commerce was well underway. Lark took Kellen inside the inn for proper warmth and to find him a place to settle before we continued our trip at dawn the next day. That left Wyn and me alone. Together.
We wandered from stall to stall, her steps hesitant but growing bolder with each stride. Wyn pressed closer to me as we entered the fray. I could feel the tension in her as she hooked her arm around mine, fingers tight against my sleeve.
“Too many people,” she breathed, her voice barely audible above the insistent murmur of the crowd. “Too many eyes.”
I leaned slightly so she could distinguish my voice over the noise. “Then look at me.”
Her gaze, previously diffused by the swirling crowd, suddenly snapped into focus, locking with mine with an almost palpable force.
“Good, now breathe.”
She obliged willingly. For a breathless moment, the crowd faded. The noise, the smoke, the strange tension hanging in the air—now gone. All that remained were her wide, storm-soft eyes fixed on mine and the fragile trust in them.
Her hand didn’t leave my arm after that.
A current of nervous energy, like a faint electric hum, flowed from her fingertips, but her eyes lit with curiosity. She asked thoughtful questions about herbs, cloth dyes, and the meanings behind the little bone charms sold in bundles. I watched in awe as each answer steadied her.
Nearby, Alaric had gathered a cluster of village children and was strumming his lute with theatrical flair, weaving a song about a heroic hound and a goose that bit back. The children clapped along, shrieking with laughter whenever Bran barked in rhythm.
Close to him, Jasira and Gideon stood at a produce stall, mid-argument with a vendor over the price of dried pears. Gideon insisted on a lower price and, after a few increasingly theatrical gestures, accepted a trade that left him holding a single, comically large root vegetable. Jasira laughed herself hoarse, bent double with mirth as he held it aloft like a trophy.
The market briefly seemed safe. Almost normal.
A vendor with honeyed eyes waved us over, offering candied nuts and pastries dusted with cinnamon sugar, and Wyn’s face brightened.
“I’m getting you one,” she said, already fishing coins from her pouch. “For saving me from a crowd-induced spiral back there. And because you look like you haven’t smiled in years.”
“That’s unnecessary—”
She pressed a honey-glazed cake into my hand before I could finish. Its warmth immediately radiating through my palm. The air around me seemed to thicken with the sweet,spicy promise of cloves and the delicate perfume of orange blossoms. I took one bite. Then another. And another.
Wyn giggled. Quiet at first, then louder as I devoured the rest in three quick mouthfuls.
“You have a sweet tooth,” she teased.
“I do not,” I muttered, licking honey from my thumb, savoring the taste.
“Uh-huh.” She grinned, already buying more.
She handed me another and walked beside me for a beat in companionable silence. Her fingers brushed mine as she pressed another honeyed cake into my hand.
Then she was there.
