I snorted. “Why would they bother?”
“Because a girl who can see Anima happened to be there when an Anima-possessed human tried to kill the prince. They’ll want to be sure you weren’t in on it.”
I snorted. “Yeah. That’s why I’m here with the gold I got for the work.” I held up a spoonful of porridge. “And all the fine things it can buy.”
“Okay, then it could have been one of the assassins. Maybe they wanted revenge for interrupting their plans.”
“They’d have to find us, which is unlikely, and they still have a prince to worry about.”
She rose and nodded toward the front of the manor. “You going with me?”
“Of course. More ways to make a coin out there than in here.” I ate the last bites of porridge.
We found three servants in the flowery courtyard in front of the Lady’s residence, each carrying a square frame as wide as an arm’s length. The frames were made of dried reeds, and stretched across them was a delicate net made from the fibers of mountain lily stalks. The same fibers made most of our clothes.
These were soulcatchers, supposedly traps for spiteful Anima who’d be ensnared in the knots if they came too close. Anima supposedly knew this, and so they stayed away from buildings where they were hung.
Luna called them “sticks and string.” They were nonsense, but harmless.
The Lady must have confirmed the Anima’s involvement in the attack. Peasant magic or not, it concerned her enough to take precautions.
We nodded at the servants, then slipped out of the gate and walked toward the market. The pale morning light began to burn off some of the chill.
My gaze drifted to the palace’s tower, which shimmered in a thousand shades of pale green like an expensive jewel, secure behind the palace wall. Was the prince safely tucked inside? Hadhe slept comfortably, or did he toss in his fancy bed, worrying about his future in this faraway place? I refused to wonder about the guard, whether he’d let his mind linger on the girl he’d met.
Market sellers were already busy with the early crowds of residents preparing to leave the stronghold for work outside the wall and visitors coming in for work inside it. I counted seven vendors hawking soulcatchers and amulets and yelling out warnings about Anima.
The new prince had brought more than coin to the Western Gate; he’d brought fear.
“They’re looking at you,” Wren said.
“Who?” I asked.
“Everyone.”
I glanced around at the sellers, the shoppers, the people who stood in doorways. She was right; they watched me carefully. Had they seen me in the market during the assassination attempt? Or had word already traveled about a girl who’d saved a prince?
A thief didn’t want attention; anonymity was much more valuable. So I ignored the stares, hoping they’d assume they’d picked out the wrong girl.
We joined the queue at the gatehouse, then passed through the wall’s shadow and into sunlight again. The market outside the stronghold was livelier than the one inside it. Stronghold residents wanted good meat, but they didn’t want pigs running through the market or the tannery making a stench near their homes. The dirty work was done in the district. Another reason it was cheaper.
We turned west, putting Mount Cennet at our backs. We’d just passed the garrison stables, which smelled like sun-warmed hay and animals, when Wren veered into a narrow gap between thedun-colored buildings. People in the district had made homes wherever they’d found space, so the alley became a maze that veered back and forth at odd angles. The scent of horses was replaced by the scents of cooking, pickling, and soaping up laundry.
And more than once, Wren doubled back to take a different route.
“I thought you knew where you were going.”
“I do,” she said, her lips curving into a smile as she approached a wooden door. One of the prince’s soldiers stood outside, as directed.
The soldier, a tall woman with bright blue eyes, looked at Wren, then at me.
“We’re here to bring remedies,” Wren said. Apparently deciding we weren’t a threat, the soldier turned her attention back to the passageway. I considered sneaking the dagger out of her belt to prove we were worth the attention but knew that was ridiculous.
Wren knocked. A moment later, Ferren opened the door. She looked tired, with crescents of shadow beneath her eyes. She glanced at Wren, then me, and her gaze narrowed with recognition.
“There’s no trouble,” I said, and held up my hands. “We know what happened yesterday wasn’t your husband’s fault. How is he doing?”
“He’s still so hot.”
