Page 33 of The Silversmith

“Will they know who I am?”

“Likely not.” Gavin opened the door for me, uncompromising when he said, “But I’m not risking it.”

I nodded and swallowed my embarrassment. My shame. Did he think my hair was bizarre like I did? I cursed the gods for not giving me simple, sleek-brown locks. Or golden-blonde, perhaps. Black, even better—like Gemma’s dark, sensuous curls. Anything normal. Anything other than the unnatural waves of silver that reached down my back.

I stopped inside the shop’s threshold, wound my hair into a quick, messy bun, and tucked all of it beneath my hat. He watched me do it. And though his steel-walled expression betrayed nothing, I thought I saw his hand flex at his side before he tore his eyes away.

“The others are finding us a table for dinner and rooms at the inn.” He gestured around the shop. “Pick anything you want.”

Eyes wide, I took in the abundance of fabric and color exploding around the shop. Coats, fine dresses, scarves, hats, gloves, blouses, and pants—the shop had all of it. Never had I seen so much clothing, so much luxury packed into a single space.

“Anything?” I looked back at him.

“Anything.” Generous, but he remained a colder version of the man whose warm assurances had wrapped so comfortingly around me yesterday.

The owner of the shop—an older, round, cherry-cheeked woman with white hair—stole my attention when she hustled over to greet me. “Good evening, dear.” She smiled brightly. “What can I help you find?”

“Umm,” I replied, forcing a nervous smile. Where would I begin with this many options? I saw a dark-purple, wool-lined, hooded parka and a pair of silver-buckled leather boots with more insulation than my current pair. Not to mention the wall to my left covered in shawls and hats and scarves and stockings and—

“We know what we’re looking for, thank you,” Gavin stated coldly, shifting closer to my side.

She looked at my massive, gruffly scarred, bearded companion, then back to me—young, small, timid—and suspicion flooded her gentle gaze. “I am just in the back, dear,” she said with a forced smile. “Please shout if you need me.” The older woman moved toward a doorway at the back of the building, not without tossing a few worried looks at me from over her shoulder.

Gavin leaned down and sourly muttered, “She thinks I’m your captor.”

“Are you not?” I teased, giggling. “You hardly let me out of your sight.”

“If I was holding you against your will, Aryella, you’d know it.” No hesitation in his dangerous tone. Only simple, brutal truth.

I gulped, cheeks flushed, and began sifting through the shelves and racks of winter wear. He claimed a new pair of boots was nonnegotiable, so I tried on and chose the silver-buckled, sturdy and sleek black pair. Before I could tuck them under my arm, he set them on the owner’s counter where I would need to pay.

Pay.

“Oh.” I moved to put the boots back. “I don’t have any money.”

“I said pick anything, did I not?” He returned the boots to the counter. “Did you think I was teasing?”

“I can’t let you—”

“You aren’t letting me do anything.” He ran his hand through his hair. I stole another glimpse of the inked notches that began on the side of his forearm. “I do what I want, Ella, if you haven’t figured that out already.”

I tried not to read into that. Instead, I focused on the circular wooden rack with a colorful array of scarves, each fastened at the top with an impeccable knot and draping down, down, almost touching the floor. One scarf—emerald green with tiny threads of gold dispersed throughout—caught my eye.

“Do you like it?” He nodded toward the green-and-gold fabric draped between my fingers.

I dropped the scarf. “It’s very pretty, but I have a scarf al—”

He grabbed the scarf and draped it around my neck in one swift motion. A matching hat sat on a shelf beside it, which he handed to me.

My eyes flashed wide at the cost. “You can afford this?” I flinched when the invasive question left my lips.

He merely chuckled. No smile. “I’ve had time to accumulate some wealth.”

“You really don’t have to buy all of this for me.”

“Elowen and Simeon clearly neglected to give you what you need.” He studied a pair of very luxurious but sturdy fur-lined leather gloves that would fit me perfectly. An improvement from the threadbare, fleece-lined gloves I’d been wearing. “I’m happy to compensate for their failings.”

Gavin rolled up his sleeves, revealing more ink around his forearms, disappearing beneath his shirt. Tiny beads of sweat glistened above his brow. Built into the wall of the shop was a massive stone fireplace, and the heat had me wishing I could shed a layer or two of my own.