A wolf whistle cut through the market noise, loud enough that a few people paused mid-step.
“Bella!”a man shouted from the stall to my left.He leaned forward over his baskets of fruit, elbows planted, chest puffed like he was performing for a crowd.His smile was too wide and too certain of itself.“Come here, amore.Let me show you something sweet.”
I laughed and kept walking.
People moved in loose clusters, shifting around me without really seeing me.
But he saw me.
“Eh!Don’t be shy,” he called again, louder.“Beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be walking around alone.”
Another vendor mumbled something at him in annoyance, telling him to behave himself.
I gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter and angled myself toward the next row of stalls.
Too many eyes shifted in my direction.The world narrowed and I could feel the edges of panic rushing up my throat.My chest tightened the way it always did when a man raised his voice, dragging me too far back into the past.
I turned, ready to slip into the next row and disappear.But someone stepped directly into my path.
A woman.A Romani woman, judging by her skirt, her jewelry, the scarves wrapped around her arms.A gypsy.
Her olive skin was warm and sun-kissed, her long dark hair braided loosely down her back, and her green eyes… God.They were the first thing I really saw.Shrewd, bright, impossible to look away from.Eyes like she’d already read your past and was halfway through your future.
Her eyes flicked past me, locking on the man who wouldn’t shut up.The disgust on her face was immediate.
“Oh, basta,” she muttered, loud enough for him to hear.“You scare off customers more than you sell anything.”
He bristled.“Mind your own business, strega.”
She stepped forward like she was ready to bite him.“Touch this girl with your voice again and I’ll hex your entire bloodline.”
The man paled, and it was a sight to behold.He muttered something, gathered a few scattered pears like he needed a distraction, then sank behind his stall.
The woman kept watching him until he fully disappeared from view.Only then did she turn to me.
Her eyes raked over me slowly, not in a threatening way, but like she was checking for signs of trouble.She saw my fear—she must have, because she clicked her tongue once, irritated, like she’d already decided what she wasn’t impressed with what she saw.
“You,” she pointed directly at me, “come.”
I blinked.“I—what?”
“Inside.”She jerked her chin toward her tent, but didn’t wait for an answer.
Before I could say anything, she reached out, grabbed my arm, and dragged me straight into the tent.
“Sit,” she ordered, shoving me into a velvet-draped chair.The tent was dim, warm, and smelled of wax and incense.Dozens of candles glowed from every surface.Crystals hung from threads.Cards were stacked in neat little towers.It felt like stepping into someone’s head.
“You could’ve just said hello,” I mumbled.
She ignored that completely.She sat opposite me, elbows on the table.
“Sit properly.Your aura is a mess.”
I blinked.“I didn’t know I had an aura.”
“Oh, you do.”She waved a hand as if swatting at smoke.“It’s loud.It’s tired.And it’s in love with danger.”
My pulse stuttered.“I… think you have confused me with someone else.”