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Scion followed my gaze to where a human man was standing behind a booth selling colorful hats. “I suppose. Cutthroat has long been a haven for misfits who don’t mind signing over their freedom to the guilds in exchange for protection, but be careful, rebel. Not everyone is friendly.”
I laughed. “Because everyone in the capital is so kind to humans.”
Scion shrugged. “Many agree with you and choose to come here, but the laws are equally harsh to ours in different ways. I suggest you stay close, unless you wish to grow more intimately familiar with what those ways are.”
“I wasn’t planning to wander. Didn’t I promise I would cooperate?”
“Just ensuring you remember that. I know how you like to act as if your word means nothing, if only because you are not bound to the truth as we are.”
My brow furrowed. That shouldn’t have stung, but it did—perhaps because it was true. I’d always been proud of being a liar. It was a good trait to have among humans in Elsewhere. Now, though, among Fae, I found myself gravitating to the truth far more often.
“I believe there is more clothing over there,” I said stiffly, making a beeline for another row of stalls.
Walking past a stall where a High Fae vendor was showing off reems of colorful fabric, I reached out to touch the edge of a bit of silk, then pulled my hand back as if burned. Guilt stabbed at my middle, painful and impossible to either expel or explain.
Until moving into the obsidian tower, I’d never worn anything new. All my clothing had been old dresses, made over time and time again to fit as I grew, or else bought secondhand or adopted from other servants when they left the palace or died. Shopping for new clothing in a market square was a completely foreign concept, and so, too, was choosing something I might truly want.
“What’s wrong?” Scion asked.
“Nothing,” I lied as we passed a small band of minstrels playing a lively tune for a twirling nymph with a tambourine.
I wasn’t sure what I would have said to him anyway. He didn’t care—he was merely asking out of habit, I supposed, or concern for optics.
Even if I could have explained, I wouldn’t have wanted to. I was being stupid. It was only fabric.
Scion glanced from me to the blue-green silk. “If you don’t like that, there are others. Don’t you typically wear warmer colors?”
I frowned. I supposed I did, though not for any particular reason, and it was especially odd that he would notice. “No, it’s not that…” I struggled for an excuse. “That’s merely fabric. I don’t have time to have something made in a day. I need clothing immediately.”
That wasn’t it either, though. Liking something—liking anything—was an entirely new idea for me. I’d only recently gotten used to the idea that I might get food every day. That I might not be attacked or beaten or tortured. I was still barely able to process that the male asking what color of silk I preferred was not going to slit my throat.Likingsomething was an extreme luxury.
Scion nodded as if that made sense. “Perhaps an indoor shop?” he asked, glancing around uncomfortably.
He’d left Quill at the thieves’ den and lookedalmostnormal among the other city dwellers, but still, we were attracting glances.
“Yes,” I agreed, though I was less concerned about the shoppers watching us and more desired to limit my choices. “A single shop would be easier.”
“We should have shadow walked back to the capital and had Aine help you,” he grumbled.
“Would that not have defeated the purpose of your infernal mission, my lord? What if we run into Ambrose Dullahan here in the market?”
He looked taken aback, then frowned. “Yes. You are correct, of course.”
I was sorely tempted to point out that even he didn’t seem to think it was likely that we would run into the rebel leader at any given moment of the day, thus making it pointless to stay in the capital indefinitely, but as I’d sworn to cooperate, I let it go.
* * *
In the centerof the square sat a small, brick-built tailor’s shop, its walls decorated with gaudy pastel hues.
Statuesque mannequins stood in the window, adorned with more color and silk than I’d ever had any desire to see, much less wear. It seemed that the fashion in Inbetwixt leaned toward bright, contrasting colors and bold, printed silks. The simplest thing I saw in the shop window was a sapphire-blue tailcoat with an emerald-green belt, intricately patterned with gold and silver embroidery.
I grimaced, yet the lure of a quieter environment proved too hard to pass up.
I pushed the door open, and a bell rang somewhere in the shop, and a tiny woman in a yellow-and-orange apron came bustling out to greet us. Her wide, toothy grin stretched from one ear to the other as she chattered away in a language I recognized as the old tongue but didn’t understand.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and nervously glanced over at Scion. This had probably been a mistake. “I don’t understand her.”
“She wants to know what you’re looking for,” he said. “And what happened to your dress.”
