Page 18 of Fierce Highland Magic

It had to be enough.

Lyra looked at the bottle again.

The vendor leaned forward.

"Tell me," she whispered. "What would you give to remember it perfectly?"

I stepped between them.

"An afternoon?" I said. "You're overcharging."

The vendor's smile vanished.

Lyra looked at me. "What are you doing?"

"Saving us both from an aggressively poor purchase."

"I did not ask for your help."

"No," I said. "You have been remarkably consistent on that point."

The vendor held the bottle at eye level. Inside it, the little kitchen gleamed softly.

"She may speak for herself."

"She may," I agreed. "And she has. Rather clearly."

The vendor's eyes moved to the pale line at my throat.

Then to the silver thistle at Lyra's collar.

Then back to me.

"You are spending yourself thin, Prince."

"Please don't call me that in public," I said. "People will begin to expect me to have money."

"Her wants are your debts."

"Tonight, yes."

The vendor tipped the vial slightly.

Dawn shifted inside it. A shape crossed the bright kitchen window.

Lyra's breath caught.

Quietly.

That was worse.

I turned to her.

"Never name what you want here," I said.

She stared at me.

The market noise retreated around us.