I couldn’t quite find the words to describe the market.
Large didn’t quite cover it. The Winter Market was massive. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. I was thoroughly impressed by the number of people packed into the square. Dozens of tables filled the open area. Baskets were scattered about, with every kind of ware imaginable on display.
We walked over to a table, and I stared at the baskets and jars filled with dozens of spices. Together, they smelled hearty and delicious. Despite the bread I’d just eaten, my stomach grumbled.
Xander chuckled, leading me away from the table. “Hungry, Ana?”
“A bit,” I muttered.
A corner of his lips tilted up. He seemed more… relaxed now that we were in the city. There was a twinkle in his eye as he said, “Well, that won’t do. We can’t have someone as lovely as you be hungry. We’ll make sure to feed you when we get to The Opal Spoon.”
My mind caught on the word lovely. Did he thinkIwas lovely? No one had ever said such a thing to me before.
I was thinking this over when a woody scent filled the air. My nose twitched as my mind suddenly went blank. The market disappeared as I was thrown back into a memory I had no desire to relive.
Tears rushed down my cheeks, my back in utter agony, as I stared at the stone floor beneath me. The muscles in my arms ached as the leather cord binding my wrists to the bedpost tightened.
A chuckle came from the other side of the room, and I tensed.
Tap
Tap
Tap
“Look at me!” a voice roared.
Lifting my head off the cool stone, I sniffled despite myself. The punishment was still too fresh to ignore. “Yes, my king?”
High King Edgar snarled, coming to kneel before me. His tunic—crimson, like the blood dripping down my back—filled my vision, and I instinctively winced at the spot of blood on his black shoes.
His favorite instrument of torture dangled from his hands as he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. The scent of sandalwood drifted off him, filling my nose and burning away the iron scent of blood.
My blood.
It was always my blood.
“Why do you think you are being punished?”
I bit my lip. I knew there was no right answer. There was no reason. There never was. I dared to reply, “I don’t know, my liege.”
“Wrong answer,” he barked.
He pushed himself to his feet, taking the scent of sandalwood with him.
It was a momentary reprieve.
A peaceful second passed. Then two.
He chuckled darkly as a cracking sound filled the air.
And I screamed.
“Sandalwood,” I whispered as I turned around, despite Xander’s tight grip on my hand. There were people milling about all over the place, but I didn’t see the familiar head of brown hair. I couldn’t see his curling horns or his blue eyes that seemed to brighten at the sight of blood.
Where was he?
My heart pounded in my chest as my wide eyes flew about the market square.There.