Her heart ached for home—but in Zohara’s vibrant chaos, there was solace too. As if, in the hum of strangers and shifting tides, she might catch a fleeting echo of what she had left behind.
When the Xians mentioned needing supplies—wool thread, saffron, goat’s milk soap—she’d volunteered to fetch them, a way to prove she wasn’t just an added burden.
With the small list folded in her palm—already damp from her nervous grip—she ventured into the maze of stalls, weaving through the crowd, dodging elbows and carts piled high with trinkets.
‘The stalls are numbered,’Xian Jun had said, pointing to chalked numbers along the awnings.‘There are more people here than at the last stop. Pay attention to where you’re going.’
She tried to follow Xian Jun’s instructions, tracking the chalked numbers, but the layout felt slippery, shifting beneath her feet. Scents sharpened, unfamiliar, while the crowd’s chatter blurred into an oppressive roar. She turned to retrace her steps, but the alleys looked different—subtly altered, as if the market itself had rearranged around her.
Her pulse quickened. She tightened her grip on the list, her gaze darting for something—anything—familiar. But strangers surrounded her now, their words foreign, their glances indifferent.
Reiya forced herself to calm. She couldn’t have been far from the Xians’ stall—just a few wrong turns. Yet, with each step, the way back stretched further, the market twisting like a maze she hadn’t realized she’d entered.
‘You’re fine,’she told herself, though her knuckles whitened around the list.‘Don’t panic.’
The crowd pressed closer—too many sour bodies brushing past—and the paths she thought she knew slipped further from reach.
She approached a vendor. “Excuse me,” she said in Isseric, keeping her tone friendly, “do you know where the wool trader’s stall is?”
The woman glanced up, eyes sharp and dismissive, muttering something in the local dialect before turning back to stack earthenware bowls.
She tried again with a passerby, but her words met only blank stares and hurried shrugs. Her Isseric fell flat here; every person she stopped replied in clipped, rapid phrases she couldn’t untangle, their indifference intimidating. What had once felt like freedom now pressed in, the crowd swallowing her voice with every unanswered question.
Then she heard his voice—low, rough, with the faintest hint of amusement.
“Lost, baby bird?”
Reiya turned sharply, pulse quickening as she spotted Jodhar leaning casually against a stone wall, eyes glinting with the satisfaction of a cat watching a mouse struggle. Slowly, the crowd seemed to part around him, shifting and skirting his presence with an unconscious wariness, sensing the brute Alpha force simmering beneath his calm exterior.
His dark gaze tracked her movements, intent and piercing, as though he already knew how she’d ended up here, alone and vulnerable.
After he bought her belt, they hadn’t spoken again, but Reiya often caught his eyes lingering on her as she moved about the camp, quietly performing her tasks. She’d made a point to keep her distance, but it didn’t stop him from watching her from afar.
And that pet name he used coiled in her gut.Baby bird.He’d called her that so casually, yet it was too close to Castiel’sdovefor comfort.
“You look like you could use a guide,” Jodhar drawled, tilting his head just enough for the glint of a silver ear cuff to catch her eye. “These markets tend to twist and turn. People get . . . lost.”
His voice lingered on the last word, as if it meant more than just losing one’s way. Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to get away now, but Jodhar had already pushed off the wall.
“Come now,” he murmured. “No sense wandering where you don’t belong.”
Reiya scanned her surroundings, searching desperately for a familiar landmark, a chalked stall number to guide her back without relying on Jodhar. But the market stretched endlessly around her, and the thought of wandering further, only to lose herself even more, twisted her stomach.
Her gaze drifted back to Jodhar. If he led her back to the family, she could start over without him looming nearby. Her choices felt as narrow as the winding stalls around her. She could refuse and risk sinking deeper into the maze . . . or take a guarded chance.
With a reluctant exhale, she steadied herself. “You’ll take me back to the Xians’ stall?“
His grin widened—not quite friendly, not entirely cruel, but unsettlingly assured. He already knew she’d have no choice but to follow.
“Wouldn’t want anything happening to a pretty little thing like you, would we?”
Before she could respond, Jodhar shifted, standing beside her with disturbing familiarity. His shoulder brushed hers, not enough to be aggressive but just enough to stake a quiet claim—a hunter marking territory. They began to walk side by side. The path narrowed, and the hum of the market thinned, the crowd seeming to dissolve behind them.
“You always wander off like this?” Jodhar’s low voice made the hairs on her arms stand on end. He smiled lazily, as if he knew precisely how uneasy she was and found it entertaining.
Reiya gripped the list in her hand. “Just running an errand.”
Jodhar chuckled, a deep sound that had her jaw clenching. His gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of discomfort in its wake. “These alleys twist more than you’d think. Easy to get turned around, and easier still to disappear.”
