Page 37 of Needed in the Night
I knew somewhere beneath that spiky exterior he had a sense of humor. I wanted to see more of it. And I wanted to hear him laugh.
The market was even busier tonight than on our previous visit. I followed in Mikas’s wake as he made his way through the crowd, with Slug still trailing us.
Long before we reached the perfume shop, I heard the familiar sound of the Sirrah’s breathtaking singing even over the loud chatter and shouts of shoppers, shopkeepers, and other performers. The uneasiness in my stomach and tension in my shoulders lessened immediately—enough that I noticed it.
The last time we’d been here, listeners in the vicinity had seemed eerily enthralled. Simply because her singing was so exquisite? Or did she have some power, or even magic, that made her voice literally captivating and reduced negative emotions? I hadn’t thought to ask Mikas at the time. If so, that would add to her value for those who thought of people in those kinds of terms.
We paused outside the perfume shop to join the crowd of listeners and drop coins into the Sirrah’s collection box. Once again Mikas made a generous donation. I gave half of what I had in my bag, in case it was my last opportunity to do so. Truly, her voice was like nothing I’d ever heard.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Slug leaning against the wall of the metaphysical shop next door, staring at the Sirrah with a sneer. Who could listen to such a beautiful voice without being moved? The sort of person who could know Mikas and think he’d want to be a raider, I supposed.
Reluctantly, I slipped away from the crown of listeners and into Ycari’s shop with Mikas. The doors were closed tonight, so once we were inside I could no longer hear the Sirrah or any market noise. Slug took up a position just past the shop’s front windows.
“Isla!” Ycari came flying out of the back hallway, beaming at us, the feathers on the crown of her head ruffling with joy. “And Mikas! My lovelies, how are you this evening?”
“Happy to be here,” I said fervently. “Very excited to see what perfume you’ve made for me.”
“Oh, yes, yes! I have made you truly a masterpiece.” She shooed us toward the back hallway. “You’ll want to experience it fully, I am sure. You must stay at least an hour, my lovelies. The scent will develop as you wear it. I must have your full approval of every note of the scent.”
“Did you include the Centenian gregarus?” I asked. “And the Solani violet?”
“Oh, theviolet,” she said, with a knowing smile. “The violet! Of course, of course. That is why you must stay for the full hour. The violet takes time to develop, lovelies.” She craned her neck to look at Mikas. “You will not mind waiting with her?”
“I will not mind at all,” Mikas rumbled.
My heart leapt.
“Wonderful.” Ycari ushered us into the same sampling room as before.
On the counter was a breathtaking pink crystal bottle with a stopper in a strange swirling shape. Next to it was a fabric pouch and a wooden box carved with the same design as the stopper.
With so much of my focus on trying to get away from Nubo and Onat’ras, I’d almost forgotten I was going to get a bottle of real Engareni perfume made by a master perfumer.
I’d never bought something for myself that was so purely indulgent. I’d never had the means. And I hadn’t believed I deserved such things until I’d lived free and happy on Fortusia and started to figure out who I was and wanted to be after a lifetime of pain, fear, and danger. This perfume was a symbol of a better life I’d once thought I’d never have.
I didn’t regret commissioning the perfume—not one bit. Some things were worth far, far more than their price.
“I hope you love your perfume, Isla,” Ycari said, dipping her head to me, her expression sympathetic as if she knew what I was thinking. Perhaps she did. “Three, six, four.”
“Three, six, four,” I repeated dutifully.
Ycari squawked excitedly and closed the door to the hallway, leaving us alone.
I turned to go to the counter to claim my perfume and found Mikas standing behind me.
His stoic, granite-like façade had evaporated. To my utter astonishment, his expression was now so tender and unguarded that he was nearly unrecognizable.
What in the worlds had come over him? Was this the same stoic, nearly emotionless man who’d watched me sing, listened to me chatter, and served me brandy and berries nearly every night for three months?
Served mebrandyandberries.
Maybe it was the wonder and awe created by the Sirrah’s singing combined with the grim reality of her precarious life as having a prized talent, or how gently Mikas had held my hand the last time we were in this shop, or thinking of the brandy and berries in combination with this sudden tenderness that made me consider the possibility it wasn’t just a nightly thoughtful gesture between colleagues and friends.
And if it wasn’t that…
I sucked in a breath. Great gods above and below, how dense could I be?
He’d quietly offered me food and drink, again and again, as I sat at the bar ever watchful, ever on guard, and yet utterly oblivious to what was quite literally right under my nose all this time:
