A young man stepped forward—flour still dusting the cuffs of his sleeves. A baker, perhaps.
He offered his unbound hand and I placed mine in his.
The world narrowed to the space between our palms, to the fragile thread of possibility stretched taut between two strangers. I searched his eyes for that flare Lyra had once described.
There was nothing.
“I am sorry,” I murmured, withdrawing gently.
He nodded, disappointment clouding his face. “May the heart guide you, Lady Kaelia.”
And so it continued.
A scholar with ink-stained fingertips. A cooper with broad shoulders and hopeful restraint. A guardsman who could barely meet my eyes.
With each, I searched.
With each, silence answered.
A gruff merchant stepped forward next.
He was broad through the shoulders, his dark beard neatly braided with thin copper rings that caught the sun. The scent of cured leather and crushed clove oil clung to him and his tunic bore faint oil stains near the cuffs.
He grasped my hand before I could fully offer it, his skin sticky with a grime that smeared across my palm. A surge of aversion hit me so sharply I recoiled before the thirty seconds were half-complete.
“No.”
He gave a shallow bow and stepped away.
I wiped my palm against the sapphire silk of my gown with enough force to fray the threads. Sweat traced a line between my shoulder blades, trapped beneath layers of embroidery.
“Next,” I called.
A new figure approached from the thinning line.
He was neither as broad as the merchant nor as eager as the baker from earlier. Taller than I by several inches, with sun-browned skin and hair the color of burnished wheat, tied loosely at the nape of his neck.
When he reached the stall, he did not immediately extend his hand.
He bowed his head first.
“My name is Aric,” he said, voice low. “I thank you for the opportunity.”
I smiled as he extended a hand. I took it, seeking a spark, but found only a dull, friendly comfort. His eyes were a muted green, kind and patient—the exact kind of safety I should have been praying for.
Before I could utter an apology, a shadow unfurled across the stall, swallowing the warmth of the noon whole.
“Excuse me,” I said, keeping my tone polite. “Please wait your—”
My words faltered as my eyes adjusted.
Two piercing blue eyes regarded me from beneath the deep shadow of a black hood.
My fingers tightened instinctively around Aric’s hand, a reflex Talon’s eyes tracked.
“Release her hands.”
“Master Veyr?” Aric stammered, his face draining of color.