He acts instantly, leading me off the main path to the nearest shop, opening the door for me. “We’ll stop here for a moment.”
A bell chimes as I walk, somewhat hesitantly, into the… apothecary? I can’t tell if I’m looking at spices for cooking or traditional medicine. All sorts of natural materials line the shelves, fill baskets on the floor, and hang from the ceiling.
Whatever it is, business is booming. There’s a line at the counter, where the shopkeeper is so busy furiously processing sales that she doesn’t even notice her special guest. She’s even more elaborately decorated than the last vendor. Her crown is paintedin a rainbow of luminescent shades, topped with jewels like pretty little berries on a thornbush.
I look back to Abaddon—or, where I left him. So much for sticking close to me; the damn angel is beelining for the back of the store. I just barely catch the tips of his wings, heading down an aisle, and I hurry to catch up. When I make it to him, he’s reaching for a fruit the size of a grape and the color of fire opal.
“This is called Vitas,” he says casually, as if he didn’t just leave me in the middle of the store. “It’s a fruit painstakingly grown deep within the blackwater caverns. Quite the delicacy here—popular in our trading networks, too. It has mild calming properties. Would you like one?”
That actually sounds great right about now. How considerate of him. “Sure. You’re not going to steal it again, are you?”
“No. Why would you think I’d steal from my people? Are you referencing the necklace?” He looks up at me, seeming confused. “It would have been rude for me to insist on paying for what was clearly a gift.”
I was making a joke, but if he’s going to harp onrudeness… “Well, I could name quite a few rude things you’ve said and done to me, but it seems like you only care about your own culture’s customs.”
He frowns, but doesn’t respond.
I might have actually stumped him, and it turns out that Abaddon being lost for words is ridiculouslyamusing. His grumpy face ismuchmore fun than confusing him with my jokes.
Holding his gaze, I cross my arms, shift my weight to one side, and lift an eyebrow. “Well? Would you like me to go down the list, or should we skip to scheduling some dedicated etiquette lessons?”
His chest rises and falls in a stifled sigh, losing air from his nose in a long drag. “I will ensure the vendor takes an appropriate amount of tokens for the fruit on our way out.”
I barely resist the urge to groan in frustration.
His seriousness is incessant. I swear, he hasn’t had a day of fun in his entire life. He probably doesn’t even know what his own laugh sounds like! I wonder if I could tickle him to force the noise out, just for science. He’d probably think I’m torturing him, maybe even curse my entire bloodline with his creepy blood magic, but it might be worth the risk…
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, yes, you big stick in the mud. I’m right behind you.”
As promised, he sneaks up to the shopkeeper and slips a gold coin onto the counter—then ignores the locust’s fervent chattering as he floats out of the store. Or storms out. I can’t really tell.
The crowd is just as packed as before, causing me to pause at the doorstep.
Abaddon grabs my wrist and proceeds to all but drag me along. I’d be shocked, but I’m too busy practically running to keep up with him. Twisting and turning around corners and alleys like there’s no tomorrow.
“Why the fuck are we walking so fast?”
“One more turn.”
“Until what?”
“Patience.”
I roll my eyes, but bite back my retort.
My answer comes within moments when Abaddon pops open an inconspicuous side door. It leads down a set of stairs, off the market’s wooden platform, which I suspect marks its boundary.
I didn’t realize the market walls had turned into a chain-link gate at some point. And, strangely, I don’t remember the platform being so high, either.
Down the flight of stairs, we land in a quaint, quiet neighborhood. A few locusts are off in the distance, going about their casual lives. Some children kick around a ball, while an adult is tending to the side of a house.
Conveniently enough, nobody seems to notice us.
Abaddon steps in front of my line of sight, wordlessly offering me the small, rainbow-colored fruit in his palm.
I’d already forgotten about the thing in our haste to exit the market, which, I suppose, could have been for my own benefit. I can’t even remember what he called it.
