“Love you,” I murmured as I stood on my tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on Noam’s cheek.
He squeezed me tighter before releasing me. Then he offered a dazzling smile to the jewelry merchant as he pointed to the ring and offered a sack full of gold pieces in exchange. Noam carefully cupped the piece in its small, velvety box and stared at his gift. “Don’t say anything yet. I still need to plan the proposal.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I’d never seen Noam like this. It filled me to the brim with a sense of relief, knowing that if Death did come calling tomorrow, at least he’d have someone else to lean on. Someone else to make him smile.
But the longer I stared at that box, at the promise of Noam’s future, a mixture of grief and jealousy panged my heart. I thought I had found bliss like that with Orin. I’d been so unbelievably wrong, and I was left with a peculiar hollowness in my chest that seemed to grow when I witnessed other people in love. I’d never have what Noam had. I’d never cared before, but I couldn’t deny the sliver of want that now stirred within me.
“You go back to Lysa and Vora,” I said as I batted his arm. “I’m going to browse for a minute.”
“Oh, grab some of those candles Vora likes. She burned the last one down to the wick the other day and hasn’t replaced it.” Noam shoved his ring into his coat pocket.
“Will do.” I waved and he did the same, turning back the way we came. Back toward his bride-to-be.
Maybe one day...But no, it was foolish to think like that. Not with so few of my threads left. I walked slowly through the crowd and a few townsfolk offered heartfelt greetings as they passed, but I was mostly left to my own thoughts. It wasn’t until I hit the candle stand that I saw her: the woman from earlier, lingering a few tables down and inspecting medicines outside of Milton’s Apothecary. This time when her gaze swung toward me, she didn’t look away. I found myself rooted in place.
Ever. She had to be. I’d never seen a more stunning woman in all my life.
Her eyes were the color of storm clouds before they broke, perfectly complementing the warm tone of her bronzed skin. Her hair was a rich, dark brown so deep it bordered on black. Her button nose was pierced on either side, and a thin silver lip ring cupped her full lower lip. As she held my gaze, she grazed her chin with delicate fingers that ended in pointed black nails. But what was most eye-catching was the tattoo wrapping the length of her slender neck. It looked like an upside-down pine tree forest, with spindly, delicate roots twining toward her jaw and tiered branches heavy with leaves dipping toward her collarbone.
She tilted her chin upward by way of acknowledgment as a group of townsfolk passed in front of her, and then she was gone.
Ringing crested in my ears as I straightened. She wasn’t a Waterstone or Starglen, that much I knew. My mind whirred as I imagined the sprawling lineage chart included inFable or Fact: A History of Evers. It’d been months since I’d read it, and there had been so many Ever families. Which one did she belong to? And why was she here? Unease trickled through my limbs.
My gaze never left the spot where the Ever had appeared, but she didn’t return. There hadn’t even been a whisper of magic in the air, but I doubt I would have been able to detect even the faintest aroma with the array of candles perfuming the space before me. The veil underneath the arch hadn’t activated, either.
A dull ache simmered behind my eyes, and I rubbed my temples. Hallucination? She’d seemed so real. But then again, so had Death earlier that morning. Sighing, I tipped my head back toward the sky. The nettling chill was a welcome reprieve, and I prayed it chased away the early foothold this headache was trying to find. Whatever the case, the Ever—if she even existed at all—was gone now.
I made quick work of selecting some candles for Vora and then headed back to our stall. Noam had stepped away to help Lysa pass out treats, but they were already on their way back, empty platters in hand.
“Finished already?” I asked with a nod toward her hands.
“Yes, thanks to this one,” she said as Noam held out his own gleaming tray, which was empty save for a few errant crumbs.
“Happy to help.” Noam beamed. “Speaking of, Vora, Edira, need me to do anything for the table?”
My headache throbbed, and I rubbed my temples. “Actually, I think I might call it early.”
Vora immediately stiffened. “Did something happen?”
“No, no.” I waved her off. “Just haven’t been able to shake this headache all morning.”
She sucked on her teeth as she leveled me with a look of disapproval. “And you still insisted on market? Edira, you’ll be the death of me.”
“I thought the fresh air would help. Consider me properly chastised.”
Vora waited for a full three breaths so I would be forced to endure the weight of her stare, and then she relented with a sigh. “I’ll pack up. Let’s get you home.”
“I’ve got to stay open for a few more hours, but maybe we could all have dinner together once I’m off?” Lysa glanced between us. “I’ll help Vora prepare the food. You won’t have to lift a finger, Edira.”
I couldn’t help but bristle. “I can—”
“That’s so kind of you, Lysa,” Vora said, cutting me off with a look as she latched the cases shut. “Maybe you could bring some pastries to go along with coffee after.”
“Of course,” she said with a smile.
Noam slung his arm around her waist and pulled her close, nuzzling the top of her head with his nose. “I’ll be back to pick you up when you’re done.”
A faint blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she playfully swatted at his chest. “Great.”
