I peer inside and roll my eyes at its almost-empty state. “It’s too damn hot for tea.”
“Yeah, and you know it’s not for you to drink. Mother did a tea leaf reading.” There’s a mischievous yet playful sparkle in Talia’s brown eyes. It hits me then: my baby sister really is an adult. I mean, of course she is. But as I study her now, I really see it. Long obsidian hair that shines like the night, and shoulders thrown back in confidence. My features used to strike me as plain, yet my sister wears them beautifully.
“I think I'm going to dye my hair red again," she says randomly. “I always got the prettiest compliments when I was a redhead.” Talia peers at me before she reaches for my bag and glances inside. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need to bring your books.”
I hum. “And what do you suggest I bring, then?” I know I sound like a child, but I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing summer. As fascinating as parts of the Everend Market can be, I know it’s going to be busy, chaotic, and loud. Socializing in crowds is not my forte, and I’m going to be depleted by the end of each day.
“Maybe something nice to wear?” She tugs one of my plain tunics from my bag and balls it up like she’s about to toss it in the trash. “Some colorful tunics or silks. Maybe a summer cloak? You never know, you might actually meet someone who catches your eye.”
“You’re starting to sound like our mother, you know that, right?”
She squeals, throwing my balled-up tunic at my head. “You take that back!”
I grin. “Sorry, little sister, but the truth hurts.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Regardless. You might end up meeting someone. You need to look your best. Plus, we’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.”
“Fine.” I cross the room and fling open my wardrobe, only to freeze. A profound frown takes over my face as I realize my entire collection of tunics is a dismal sea of ink-stained black and mud-brown. I wince. Dear goddess, I’ll look less like an eligible bachelor at the market and more like a mourning hermit.
“Whatever. I don’t really need to impress a bunch of sweaty archers and overzealous inventors, anyway.”
Chapter two
Raylen
Myfingertipshoverjustabove the brushstrokes of the beautiful painting, reverently tracing the delicate pattern of the constellation with a phantom touch. “Your work is stunning,” I say to the merchant.
“Are you a fan of the Star-Crossed Archer?” the elf asks. His hair is a rich green, reminiscent of the wild tree canopies that can only be found in the forests of Emberleigh.
“You could say that.” I wink. My fingers toy with the pendant on my bracelet, memories of the night I left my small hometown still fresh in my mind. It didn’t take me long to figure out why that constellation made a young Sylar blush that pretty redcrimson. Let’s just say there’s a reason they don’t teach that particular myth to the children.
I wonder if my sister, Isolde, and her best friend managed to convince Sylar to join them on their travels to Everend. When I found out that he never bothered to attend the marriage market, I never really had any reason to participate. Usually, I’d show up on the day of the archery competition, then leave the following evening. I never stayed for the full two weeks.
“Here’s the first half of the coin and the address of my cottage. Just make sure it’s delivered tomorrow morning before you set up for the market tomorrow. I’ll give you the other half of the coin upon delivery.” Something soft brushes against my leg. Cinder, my little foxly, spreads her tiny wings and flies up to my shoulders. She’s a magical little monster that resembles a red fox. Settling on my shoulders, she wraps her dainty body around my neck like a soft ginger scarf. She head butts my chin before closing her eyes for a little nap.
“Of course, Raylen. Please, call me Gale,” he says as he begins carefully wrapping the package, taking extra care with the corners. “It’s an honor that someone like you would even purchase one of my paintings.”
I lean forward, my charming grin back in place. “Nah, you flatter me, Gale. Truly. I’m a fan.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Sweet merciful goddess, I should make a fucking sign.” He frames his hands in the air, tilting his head as if admiring the imaginary letters. “Raylen of Moonscliffe, the famous archer, is a fan of my work!”
I clap him on the shoulder. “Bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” Tugging my silk hood up to shield Cinder and myself from prying eyes, I step back out into the brilliant morning sun. Joyful chatter and laughter fill the air as elves of all kinds make their way toward the Central Shrine and park for the Opening Ceremony.
Despite the rumors that I’ll be attending this year’s market, no one pays me any mind as I weave my way through the crowd. Ahead lies a massive stone shrine, framed by a pristine grove of beautifully manicured trees and bushes. It stands solitary and unyielding. A symbol of the birthplace of the very first elves.
While the ceremony unfolds, I join other elves at the shrine to give thanks through prayer and offerings.
The enchanting whistle of flutes and the heartbeat of low drums echo through the park, pulling the surrounding elves into a wild, joyous dance, turning the market into a blur of spinning silk around me. The air surrounding the shrine is so thick with heat that it feels like swallowing warm honey.
I pull the light summer hood of my cloak lower, desperate to maintain my anonymity, but the lightweight fabric bunches around Cinder’s squirming form. She grows restless on my shoulders as numerous scents surround us. The scent of roasted chicken, honey cakes, and fresh bread filters through the air. Probably a nifty little magic charm that pushes the scent from each vendor out into the crowd.
Cinder kicks my hood loose and hops from my shoulders. “You little brat,” I say out loud, knowing she’ll understand me. The magical little monster flaps her wings and catches herself easily in the air before hovering next to my face. I swear the little thing is smiling.
Yipping joyfully, she flies forward and gives my nose a playful lick.
“Okay, okay, you’re forgiven,” I mumble, hoping no one caught the color of my lilac hair or recognized me under my hood. I weave my way past the vendors and explore the different stalls and tents.
Suddenly, a wisp of color catches my eye. Familiar lilac hair so similar to mine, and a laugh I would recognize anywhere. My chest fills with warmth when I easily recognize my sister. Nextto her is her best friend, Talia. Looks like she dyed her hair red again. A wide grin fills my face when I spot the large figure next to them.
