14. James

14

JAMES

" T here you are!" a woman called out, sounding simultaneously exasperated and relieved.

Her call managed to cut through the tension and distract the shopkeeper from his malevolent intent to cut off my fingers, but the way he looked behind me and then back at me made it evident that she was addressing me.

Who was she?

I didn't know anyone out here, and no one was supposed to know me. Perhaps she mistook me for someone else. With everyone on the streets wearing veils, that was an easy mistake to make.

Turning my back on the shopkeeper was not an option, my arms' master would have my hide for even considering it, but I needed to see what was happening. Cautiously, I took a step away from the stall and then another one before turning to face the woman marching up to me with determined strides.

She stopped right in front of me and put her hands on her hips, regarding me like a naughty child. "Jack, what did I say about wandering off, hmm? What did I say?" Her tone was stern, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"I... ah..." I fumbled for words, completely caught off guard.

She rolled her bright blue eyes dramatically. "I said no! I said you were going to get hopelessly lost and insult someone and probably put out your own eye, and here you are, lost, insulting, and likely two seconds from stabbing the nearest stickpin into your face."

Turning to the shopkeeper, she dipped into a little curtsy. "A thousand pardons," she said, her voice honey sweet. "My cousin Jack has just arrived from beyond the gates, and I'm afraid he's rather dazzled by everything Londabad has to offer. I don't know how many times I had to tell him to stay close and not touch unless he means to buy, especially something delicate like your easily bruised peachles." She extended her wrist toward the stall. "Allow me to pay for it, and let's leave this unpleasantness in the past."

"But, I…" I stammered, thoroughly confused. I had never laid eyes on this person before, and I certainly wasn't her cousin Jack. On the other hand, I was quite probably on the verge of getting into a fight, and on my very first time sneaking out! It was clear I had a lot to learn about the world beyond the palace walls.

Maybe this woman would help teach me.

"Shush, Jack," she said, not even sparing me a glance.

The shopkeeper's scowl softened slightly as he stroked his beard, reassessing the situation. "Well," he grumbled, "you know, he's made a lot of trouble for me tonight."

"So he has," she conceded, "but you must admit it's very ungracious to demand blood for a first offense."

"These peachles are rare as hen's teeth right now!" the shopkeeper protested. "I can't have grubby outsiders coming up and ruining my stock with their filthy hands."

Her lips quirked into a smile. "A learning experience for both of you," she suggested brightly. "Now he knows not to touch unless he's sure he wants to buy, and you know you should probably put up a sign so that country bumpkins don't make this mistake in the future."

"It's not my job to educate these people!"

"Nor is it your job to punish them," she countered smoothly. "You should have called for a guardian. Pulling a vibro-blade on a potential customer... what would they think about that kind of behavior?"

The shopkeeper's shoulders sagged in defeat. "All right, all right. Your tongue is too quick to dodge and too sharp to block. Pay a fair price for the fruit and go. You're driving away other customers."

"A pleasure," the woman assured him, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She touched her wrist to the black plate on the front of the stall, and it momentarily shone silver. Then she turned to me and pointed toward the peachle. "Grab it and let's get out of here."

I did as she said, marveling at the fruit's soft, slightly fuzzy texture. I could see where my earlier touch had left bruises in the fair skin. Ah. I could see why I shouldn't touch. I turned to my savior, who was regarding me with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction, and said, "Where are we going now, cousin?"

"Somewhere with fewer people," she muttered, and grabbed my free hand.

I was so stunned by the casual touch that I didn't even try to escape, just let this pint-sized person tug me along through the crowd in an effort to get closer to the water.

No one had ever touched me so casually, not even my own parents these days. Lavanya had tried to take some liberties, but so far, I was able to shrug her off and remind her that we weren't married yet, so she had to follow custom.

Her hand was small, and harder than I expected it to be, and strong, much like the rest of her. From what little I could see, she was modestly dressed in a dark purple tunic with long, loose sleeves down to her wrists, a slit-sided purple skirt with black leggings beneath it, and a lighter purple veil. Her hair was light as well, a golden shade that seemed to reflect the lights all around us, making its true color hard to pin down. Her eyes were the blue of the evening sky inside the palace dome—dark, velvety, and full of promise.

She tugged me down a brick path until we reached a slender pedestrian bridge. Rather than going up on it, we went under it instead. There was a long, slender band of metal running beneath it, with wires spreading out on either side like wings that attached to the sides of the bridge. I'd never seen a support structure quite like it before, but the band was just wide enough for our feet.

She moved like one of the palace cats—no, even more smoothly, because the palace cats were lazy after generations of care and feeding at the hands of the sultan. When she finally stopped, she turned sideways and sat down in one fluid motion. I had to follow along fast to keep from losing my balance.

The wires were far enough apart that we could dangle our legs between them. She did so, letting go of my hand as she got comfortable. I imitated her, the peachle nearly forgotten in my hand.

She looked at it and lifted one golden brow. "Well, aren't you going to share?"

"I'd prefer to know who my benefactor is first." I was determined to learn this fascinating woman's name.

"And I'd prefer to know your true identity as well, but I already know you can't give it to me."

I felt breathless all of a sudden, like she'd reared back and punched me in the sternum instead of making a simple statement. "I... I..." How did she know?

"I'll tell you how I figured you out if you share the peachle," she said, a hint of playfulness in her voice. "And I'm Adina, for what it's worth."

"Adina." It was a pretty name, not one I'd heard before. "Nice to meet you. You can call me..." I racked my brain for a suitable pseudonym. "Well... I guess you can just keep calling me Jack, actually."

"That's fine with me." She held out her hand expectantly, and I set the fruit in her palm. Then she casually lifted her veil to take a bite, and I thought my brain was going to explode.