Page 25 of Dark Elf Makes Five

"Let him come!" The merchant's voice cracks as he gestures wildly to the onlookers. "We all know what she is—what they both are! A dark elf who thinks he can corrupt our women, and a slut who spreads her legs for coin!"

The crowd's murmurs turn uglier, emboldened by his crude words. Several women nod approvingly while their husbands exchange knowing looks. My cheeks burn, but I will myself to gather the remaining supplies with steady hands.

"You've made your position clear." I turn toward where Captain Draven waits, his weathered face stone-cold as he watches the spectacle. "I trust Lord Morvath will remember your hospitality."

The merchant shouts after me, his voice carrying across the entire market square. "Run back to your master, whore! Tell him what decent people think of his human pet!"

I stride toward the carriage without looking back, even as more voices join the chorus behind me. "Disgusting..." "...no shame at all..." "...ought to be driven out..."

Captain Draven falls into step beside me, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt as several men from the crowd begin following us. The gesture proves enough to discourage pursuit, but their jeers continue until we reach the carriage.

"Inside," he says curtly, yanking the door open.

I climb up without argument, my hands shaking as I arrange the packages on the seat. Through the window, I watch Draven exchange sharp words with the driver before swinging up beside him. The carriage lurches into motion with more haste than our leisurely arrival.

The return journey passes in tense silence, my mind replaying every ugly word while fury and humiliation war in my chest. By the time we approach the estate gates, I've managed to stop trembling, though my jaw still aches from clenching it.

We roll to a stop at the gates, and I hear Captain Draven's voice through the window, low and urgent as he speaks to the guards stationed there.

"...merchant caused a scene in the market square. Whole crowd heard him shouting insults about Miss Kessara and his lordship..."

"How bad?" One of the gate guards responds.

"Bad enough. Word will spread before sunset."

14

ZERION

Draven's boots echo on the stone floor of my study as he enters without ceremony, his weathered face carrying the particular grimness that signals trouble. I set aside the correspondence I've been reviewing—tedious reports from neighboring estates that can wait—and lean back in my chair.

"The market trip didn't proceed smoothly." His statement carries no surprise, only the weary certainty of a soldier who's witnessed too many predictable failures of human decency.

"Elaborate."

"Merchant named Korven at the spice stall. Round-faced bastard with more mouth than sense." Draven's jaw tightens. "Called Miss Kessara a whore in front of half the market square. Loudly. Suggested she was warming your bed for coin."

The quill in my hand snaps between my fingers. Ink spatters across the desk's polished surface, dark droplets that mirror the cold fury spreading through my chest. I set the broken pieces aside with deliberate care.

"What else?"

"Crowd joined in once he started. Called you both names I won't repeat." Draven's voice carries professional restraint, but his hand rests on his sword hilt. "Miss Kessara handled herself well—threatened him with your displeasure. Merchant doubled down, called her worse things."

I stand and move to the window overlooking the estate grounds. Below, gardeners tend to the autumn plantings while stable hands exercise equus in the courtyard. The peaceful routine continues undisturbed, unaware that someone in town believes they can insult what belongs to me without consequence.

"Send word to this merchant. Tell him I wish to discuss expanding trade arrangements. Have him brought here tomorrow morning."

"Trade arrangements." Draven's tone suggests he understands the true nature of this invitation.

"Indeed. A man so vocal about his opinions regarding my household surely has valuable insights to share about commerce."

"Understood, my lord."

Draven turns to leave, but I raise a hand to stop him. "Send Kessara to me before you go."

He nods and disappears through the doorway, leaving me with the broken quill and spreading ink stain. I pull out a cloth to clean the mess, each methodical motion helping to contain the rage that threatens to overwhelm my usual composure. Someone dared to call her a whore. In public. While she carried out tasks on my behalf.

A soft knock interrupts my dark thoughts. "Enter."