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“Rilion? Your contact? I thought he'd be right on the other side of the mountains.”
“He would have been, had we not been delayed. By now, he will have returned to Danesse. His home is there, in the capital.”
“He left?” She exclaimed. “Whatever for?”
“Because we are late,” Gil said simply. “And so he will assume I am dead.”
He didn't say as much, but she knew that was a problem. “It's my fault,” she said. There was no point in asking. She knew.
“I don't blame you. It was my mistake, my failure. I should have accounted for all possibilities, including a strange woman bursting in while I completed my task and then requiring rescue.” The tiniest hint of a smile graced the corners of his mouth and a playful spark lit his eyes.
She couldn't help but tease back. “And what if I'd been a man?”
“Then I would not be holding your hand.”
She gasped and planted her other hand on his shoulder to shove him away, but he held her tight and didn't let her escape. Worse, he pulled her closer.
“Remember,” he whispered, “we're newlyweds. Traversing the mountains allowed you some respite from our farce, but if we are to do all that I've promised, at least some impression must be given.”
She leaned closer, her lips a hair's breadth from his ear when she responded. “Is that why you've brought me to a festival?”
“That,” Gil murmured, “was wholly unintentional.”
The striped awnings were only the beginning. Women with tiny flames atop poles lit colored glass lanterns along the streets, illuminating banners strung between buildings. Men stacked logs as tall as themselves in the very center of the village, while children added bundles of sticks between them. Already, people sang, though there was no stage for the few musicians present and those Thea saw clustered together still tuned their instruments.
“It reminds me of the summer-night festivals in Kentoria,” she said.
“I suspect it's similar. They celebrate the pear harvest.”
Thea covered her mouth to hide a giggle. “All this for pears?”
“Ranor's favorite crop. They're a staple here, as much as maple syrups and timber are a staple for Kentoria. Come, this is where we'll be staying.” He turned her toward a tall building of wood and stone. Its door was open, inviting the cold autumn air.
“I don't want to go inside,” she said. “I want to dance.”
“We haven't time for dancing.” He gripped her hand tighter and dragged her toward the door.
She put down her heels. “What happened to impressions?”
“Thea,” he breathed, exasperated.
“You'll make everyone think you despise your new bride!”
Gil clamped his jaw shut and exhaled through his nose, long and slow. The musicians had finished tuning and began a rollicking tune, eliciting a wave of cheers and shouts from the clustered villagers. He let her go, but held out his hand expectantly. “Give me your things.”
She stared at his hand as if it posed danger, now that he'd released her fingers. “What for?”
“There is little threat to you here. You're free to walk around as you wish.” His frown was stern, though his demeanor softened a moment later. “I will secure a room for us. We have little time to spare, so use it wisely. I will return after I've put away our things.”
She didn't believe for a moment that he would. Nonetheless, the brush with independence was welcome, and she turned toward the nearest stand to see what the event had to offer.
Beneath the striped awnings, people sold handicrafts of every variety. Some offered fresh foods, while others sold jars of preserves and boxes of dried fruits to last the winter. Judging by how well-stocked they were, setup for the festivities had started earlier in the day. It was more like the events in Kentoria than she'd suspected, then; most folk worked through the daylight hours and didn't walk the festival market or participate in activities until it had grown too dark to continue labor.
With no money in her pockets, shopping was unappealing, so she turned her attention to something better suited to her needs. She knew little of popular fashion beyond Kentoria's borders. Most of her clientele had been wealthy. People who had known or worked with her father spread her name in their social circles, his reputation offering a security his career had not. Those sort of nobles sought only to compete with each other, never looking to trends outside the capital, never thinking to introduce foreign designs. This close to Kentoria's border, she'd expected to see more of her homeland's fashion. Instead, she saw the pride in Ranorsh craftsmanship Gil had already explained. A problem, if she didn't adapt.
The coarse-spun woolen fabrics and drab dyes didn't surprise her, but the shape of most garments did. The weather here was colder than what she was used to, and instead of cloaks, everyone she saw wore thick coats lined with feathers or fur. The cut of them was square and tidy, with straight sleeves and tall collars that folded down to display linings of wool dyed a brighter shade than the rest of the garb. That would be easy to replicate, she reassured herself. Already, thoughts of making her own quality dyes and introducing colors that may not be readily available in Ranor spun through her head.
She was less certain about the trousers. None of the women wore dresses or skirts that she saw. Instead, both men and women wore the same strange, loose-fitting pants formed of a multitude of gathers. Or were they pleats? The shape made little sense, hanging low and full around the thighs and then drawing in snug at the knee so they would fit inside the tall riding boots that matched what Gil wore. Those would take more experimentation. Then again, maybe there would be some who were open to a different style. Something similar in shape but less bulky, maybe made with heavier fabrics or even leather, guaranteed to hold warmth better than what she saw. The density of those gathers meant the fabrics were thin, and just thinking of something so loose and lightweight in the winter made her want to clench her thighs together.
