Page 42 of Of Rime and Ruin
“Just looking for now.” I trail my fingers over the handles, admiring the precision of the carving. He watches me too closely.
Pressure builds in my throat, and my heart flutters. I cough, swallowing the anxiety before it can spoil my mood.
Calm. Smooth. In control.
I inhale, letting the smell of smoke, leather, and crisp air fill my nose.
Dropping two coins on the mat for the merchant’s time, I duck my head to miss the canopy bar.
“Thank you! Audrina bless you, Your Majesty!” he calls after me.
I hunch into the snow, pleased with myself. There. No harm done. No explosions of temper. Only good, friendly interactions.
I can do this.
The next shop is a tailor. Clothing hangs from a wooden rung, the assortment of furs sewn into hoods, capes, and muffs. A basket sits on the table, overflowing with knitted mittens and hats. I approach the booth and nod in greeting to the middle-aged female merchant. The browsing customers spot me coming and slowly back away from the wares.
The tailor shoots from her seat, slamming her knitting onto the table with a gasp. Afraid of me. She bubbles out a greeting and curtsies. “What brings you in today, Your Majesty?”
“I’m just looking.” I cringe and step back, giving her the space she needs. I forget they’re not used to seeing me. It must be as much a shock for them as it is for me.
My fingers trail through the furs, catching on a frostcat cloak. The fur is creamy and warm next to the gray-brown fur of its neighbors. Like a dollop of cream on hot chocolate. I recognize the color, and as I run my thumb backward on the fur to reveal its dappled undercoat, my brow pinches. The spy has the same gold-flecked pattern in her eyes. Glaring at me from my throne room floor, they burned with rebellious flame.
I release the cloak, flexing my hand.
Not a spy. Princess of the Brine, she said. Freezing cold and locked in a cage.What kind of monster are you?
“That’s one of our finest cloaks,” the merchant says, shuffling closer. “My husband speared her himself, last hunting trip. Not often that you find a frostcat on the plains. A rare thing of beauty, they are. I’d be honored to see it worn in the glory of your hall.”
I pinch the corner between my fingers, already missing the touch of the soft fur. It’s a gorgeous piece. Golden thread wraps around the edge, protecting the skin from fraying.
The merchant rushes to remove it from its hanger. She holds it for me, showing off its size and length. The furs brush the topsof her toes. Judging from the width of the shoulders, it would fit the Brine Princess perfectly.
“I meant it for a female frame,” she stutters. “Might not fit the likes of you, Your Majesty. No offense intended.”
I’m already opening in my pouch, fishing among the coins. “How much?”
“No cost to you, Your Majesty.”
I grunt, dropping five gold coins into the basket before I can change my mind. “I’ll take it.” Will it match her eyes? Will it keep her warm?
My pulse thunders in my ears. She wraps the cloak for me, and I tuck the parcel beneath my arm. I glance at Orson and find the young guard watching me with stunned interest.
My ears burn. The high of the purchase plummets, and I’m left with regret twisting in my stomach.
A stupid, rash decision.
I hurry into the streets, weaving through the other shoppers. Beneath my arm, the cloak grows cold.
Why would I buy something for a prisoner? A foreign spy? She’snotwelcome here. She’snota guest—no matter how much Deirdre may wish to entertain her.
And it’s not like she can wear it underwater.
I pull my cloak around the package to disguise it. If Deirdre sees it, no doubt she’ll have questions.
Would it fit my housekeeper, instead? It could be a surprise gift. A thank you for putting up with all my shit over the years.
I clench my fists. Behind me, Orson scurries to match my increasing pace. I push harder, eager to escape into the safe, dark halls of my home.
