I retrace my steps to the start of the tents. My breath is unsteady, my hands curled into fists at my sides. When I finally reach Vann’s tent, several women linger, but he is gone.
What if… he found someone?
I don’t like the thought, but the more logical part of me doubts it.
Out of curiosity, I turn toward the displayed parchment, the one where tent patrons had written their desirable qualities for a woman to see.
I step closer.
I scan the page.
Desires to be a father.
I wince.
Would be exceptionally good at caring for a wife.
Enjoys painting.
Interested in intelligent women with a hunger for reading and weaving.
My breath catches. My hand tightens around the scroll.
Something inside me twists—deep and sharp. This has to be a joke. An iteration of the conversation we had last night. Slowly, my eyes drift over the tent’s decorations and land on the details arranged for viewing.
There are fortune-telling crystal cards, slivers of razor sharp obsidian formed to look like a playing card, catch my gaze first, lined up neatly along the side of the tent. I follow their carefully painted images—underground caverns studded with jeweled mushrooms, a breathtaking enduar woman I do not recognize, and then...
A red-haired human woman standing beneath a starlit forest. Her back is turned, but her unbound hair spills down her spine, curling at the edges in a way I know all too well. An ache blossoms inside me.
Is this meant to be me?
No.
No, that would beridiculous.
Aside from last night, Vann has spent the better part of a yearavoiding me, oscillating between helping me when it suits him and acting as though I am a thorn in his side.
My mind spins. If we were mates… We would know by now.
It has been almost a year.
If fate had meant for us to be bound, we would have felt it.
This?I think, looking at the tent again.This is a joke.
He must have copied my own words, the ones he helped me write, and twisted them into something to get under my skin.
My hands curl into fists, and without thinking, I march away, only to run into the human man from earlier. Diego.
He is carrying armor, smiling.
"Hello, lovely. Sad you didn’t take me up on that offer?"
The arrogance is almost too much. But it is warm, teasing, effortless. It smooths over the raw ache I’ve been trying to ignore.
I haven’t been with anyone in months. Haven’t felt wanted in longer than that. I’m tired of being lonely, of watching everyone else find warmth while I stand in the cold.
I exhale sharply, forcing a slow, easy grin onto my face. "Who said I didn’t take you up on it? I was coming to find you."