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Each of the figurines are incredibly detailed for how small they are. Mostly animals. Lots of cats, snakes, and birds. I pick up a small white bird that appears to be flaring its wings for a landing, claws outstretched and ready. It reminds me of Heru. A small, domesticated version. I need this for my desk at the Watch.
My stomach pitches as my mind snaps back into the reality of this situation.
I set the trinket down.
No.
I pick it back up. I will get out of here. “How much for this?”
The old woman peers at me with so much judgment, I can feel it through her spectacles—an appropriate word choice given the uniqueness of her glasses. “Come closer, dear. I haven’t seen you before.”
I shift on my feet and lean in.
“A little more…” she croaks.
I lean as far as I can without knocking off her precious glass items.
“Ahh, yes, so it is who I thought it is.”
Okay, that’s odd.
She leans back, seemingly satisfied with her assessment. “I may not be as spritely as I once was, but I know everything that’s going on in the Jord.”
“And who do you think I am?”
“You are the future ruler,” she says confidently, and I swear her eyes twinkle.
I clear my throat, not sure what to say. If there is one thing that I don’t want, it is to be ruling next to Lord Rollo, trapped in this underground sand castle for the rest of my life. “So.” I straighten. “How much will it be for this one?”
The old woman chuckles. “Consider it a gift. I may not be as old as the stars, but I’ve seen enough in my days to recognize one.”
Her words pull at something deep within me, stretching apart the sections that know the Jord to be an evil place, full of bloodthirsty Underlings. But here, it’s a city full of regular people going about their day.
It wasn’t these people that destroyed Goldenpine.
It was Rollo and his fighting clans.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, voice shaken. I don’t know why, but this gesture of kindness rips at the lining of my soul, creating the smallest tear in the tapestry that was otherwise completed with judgment, fear, assumptions, and pride. This gift is breaking what I knew about the Jord and replacing it with something softer that I refuse to acknowledge.
I can’t acknowledge it.
Not when I was kidnapped from the Watch.
Not when they destroyed my village, and Redrock, and Ashwood, and Brown Oak.
Not when they are forcing me to channel against my will—no—fucking marry against my will.
The pressure behind my eyes threatens to build as I count the innumerable ways the Jord has negatively affected my life, and yet the old woman just sits there, smirking from beneath those silly, hand-blown glasses.
Careful not to knock it on the metal cuffs that attach me to my jailer, I grasp the glass bird carefully between my fingers and turn away.
Ragnar leads me around the city, not bothering to introduce me to anyone. I hardly observe the townsfolk anyway over the haze of dread and loss.
Eventually, we ride in the carriage back to Castle Varlok. Both Ragnar and I ignore the tears tracking down my cheeks.
Olga tightens the laces on the red leather corset belt, cinching my waist to the same size I was when food had been scant. Except this time, my disgust spoils my hunger, stealing that away from me as I’m paraded about the castle. The court sneers at me, and so I sneer back.
My mood soured since visiting the town with Ragnar. Any hope I had of discovering some long lost passage is gone, fizzling out along with my hope. At least today they aren’t forcing me to Starwatch, so I’m able to conserve a little bit of energy.
