from her hands, everything was right with the world. She was doing precisely what the gods had created her to do. The magic blossomed inside of her, poured out into the world and left only a deep and solemn peace in its wake.
Far, far too soon, it was over.
Reluctantly—because it always seemed unbearable at the end—she released her hold on the magic. Her body sagged, but her hands clutched the weave tight to her chest. If she’d been alone or at the University, she’d have allowed herself to sink fully to the ground. To let the lingering magic settle like dust after a sandstorm. Right now, the light piercing through her closed eyelids and every noise made by the crowd was an assault to her senses. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t at the University. She was sitting in the middle of the Southton market and she could not afford to be weak.
She gave her other senses a bare moment to adjust to the tumult around her before opening her eyes. A crowd had formed, which was not particularly remarkable. After all, people liked to gape at oddity. What was remarkable was that they’d kept their distance, not crowding her, fingering the rug, threatening to snap her concentration. The circle of people stood a good six feet away—no small feat in the tight lanes of the marketplace. Her gaze came to rest on the person nearest to her, Kal.
Of course. She’d counted on that. His personal servants were a step beyond, holding clubs and glancing every so often at their master.
The rug... She drew a nervous breath and braced herself. It had been such a long time since she’d attempted such an ambitious weaving. The ones she normally sold in the marketplace were made from beggar’s rags that she collected, cleaned and did her best to work into serviceable pieces. She hadn’t created something like this, using silk and true-dyed thread, since she left the University. The collision of memory with the reality of her current state tore something open inside her, and she swallowed the cry that threatened to erupt from her throat.
This rug was a beauty. She’d been half afraid the magic wouldn’t come when she called. Afraid she’d lost some of the skill she’d worked so hard to gain. It had been so long... But she hadn’t lost her talent. A fierce pride shook her body. She hadn’t lost one bit of it.
* * *
Kal didn’t think she realized he was standing there. If she had, even exhausted and stripped bare, he didn’t think she’d allow herself to cry. It tugged at his heart, but he held to his resolve. With Ily, there was too much at stake for softness.
“Come now, it’s not so bad.” He meant it as a joke, but in truth she looked stricken. He’d been appalled when she’d begun the weave. The cost of the thread alone... He shook his head. It must have taken her years to gather the money to buy it. Years during which she rented a spot on the floor to sleep and bought barely enough bread to feed a bird. And then to gamble everything here, so openly, where an untimely sneeze could have destroyed the work. He didn’t know whether to applaud or scold that kind of audacity.
She lifted glowing eyes to his and his breath hitched. Her cheeks were tracked with tears. Lovely Ily, so much more so when she wasn’t wound tight as a top and watching her every move. She smiled. “It’s a masterpiece.”
“You’re modest.”
A delicate flush touched her cheeks. Beautiful. She dipped her head. “Thank you.”
She was feeling magnanimous else she never would have said it, but he didn’t have the heart to mock her. He merely bowed his head and stepped aside as the first bidder reverently approached.
She was a difficult puzzle. So very stubborn. Proud despite the rags she wore. The stiff set of her shoulders, the lift to her chin. He would need to be as cunning as a cat, as cold as a snake. A small smile pulled at her lips now, letting everyone know—including the man she bartered with—that she would not be taken for a fool.
Kal suppressed his own smile. The little mouse had used him. And when was the last time he’d been outmaneuvered? Or surprised? She’d been annoyed when he’d claimed the tent across from her, but then she’d used the questionable safety his men would provide to work her magic, knowing he would protect her