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For himself, he orders some blackened stick of tarry meat that makes my face warp with a twist. Then he turns to me, an expectant look on his stony face.
With a sigh, I lean over the edge of the stall and eye what’s on offer. Mostly meat, and not the kind we are served in the Hall. This is the sort of meat that I doubt my human body can manage all too well.
So I fall back into line beside the prince and, with a crinkled nose, shake my head.
“I’m not hungry,” I say, though I could go a snack. Just not the kind in front of me.
The prince gets his stick of wet-looking black meat. He holds it loose in his grip as he takes a savage bite, his glass-blue eyes on me.
A shiver runs up my spine at the sight of his sharp canines.
At times, I’m a fool and forget what he is. Savage. Brutal. A monster.
One month, I tell myself. I’m closing in on just one month. And then I’ll be home, where we eat bland, rough bread and oats, and that’s enough for me.
I turn my eyes on the other stands, but there’s little food cooked for humans around here. Most of what I can eat is the hybrid fruit, but even that makes me light-headed and giggly. Not in the mood for that right now, so I snub it all and fold my arms over my chest.
Before I can turn my attention back to the prince and his piercing stare as he rips into the charred meat, a pair of honeyed eyes meet my passing gaze. I swerve my look back to the fruit stand as I find those eyes again—soft ones, human ones.
I blink at the man who I recognise to be one of my kind instantly.
After the soft honey of his eyes, his clothes are next to capture my attention. He wears a pale blue jacket, threaded with silver and gold along the hem and middle, and his trousers are a pearlescent white.
Better dressed than any human I’ve ever seen in the realm.
He’s pretty, but his face wears none of the otherworldly signs of fae, so I suspect he’s not even a halfling, he’s a kuri maybe.
The human watches me back. His pale-pink mouth lifts at the corners after a pause. I return it with a tight one of my own, then turn back to Daein.
“What do those colours mean?” I ask him.
His cheek faces me, his eyes on the pretty human man across the curving pathway between the stalls. Slowly, Daein turns to look at me—and his eyes are gleaming blades, ready to cut me to pieces.
Though he answers me, his voice is just as sharp as his eyes. “A human child of litalves. They wear whichever colours they choose.”
My cheeks start to heat under his murderous stare.
I pucker my lips, suddenly uncomfortable, and tighten my arms around myself.
“We are done here,” Daein says before he tosses the meat-stick to the side. It lands on the blackened grass to be devoured by those ants that bite too hard, drawing blood.
Daein stalks by me, his shoulder brushing mine. I stagger around him to make space, then scurry to keep up with his brisk strides. His pace doesn’t break as he leads the way back to the carriage, the guards shadowing us closely.
Unlike at the castle, the prince doesn’t pause at the door to help me inside. He jumps inside, leaving me to grip onto the edge of the door and climb up the steps on my own.
Inside, the prince is sat up against the other door, his hard face aimed at the window he looks through. He ignores me now.
Quietly, I sit on the lushly cushioned bench opposite him.
One of the guards closes the door on the carriage. Then we wait a moment, feeling the rock and sway of the guards climbing up onto the rear behind the cabin, before the reins can be heard whipping the steeds, and we’re rolling out of the markets.
It’s an hour-long journey and I suspect we’ll be simmering in silence for the lot of it.
Then, just as we’re barely out of the marketplace, the prince has lunged at me.
A gasp traps in my throat as the back of his hand comes striking down on my cheek. I’m thrown to the side by the sheer force of the welting slap, hitting the cushioned bench with a thump.
My mouth parts in a silent cry as I bring my hand up to my burning face. Dampness meets my palm at the corner of my mouth, and I know he’s cut me with the strike.
