Selah’s POV
The market trip was Mira’s idea, an errand for supplies that somehow expanded, by the time we actually left, into a small procession.
It was Mira leading the way with a list of herbs in her hands, two other maids carrying empty woven baskets, Vera bouncing along at my side, and me trailing near the back.
I was glad for the excuse to be somewhere other than inside the estate’s walls for one afternoon.
Being outside in the open air, even surrounded by strangers, felt better than walking around in that house alone.
But I was in for a surprise, because the town itself was louder and more crowded than anywhere I had been since arriving in Garrick’s territory.
The moment I stepped into the market, I froze in my tracks.
The noise reminded me far too much of the Blood Moon market, how those men had argued the price on my head, as though I was nothing but a prized horse.
I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly wishing I hadn’t agreed to come here with Vera.
The noise was debilitating.
Merchants were shouting over one another from their wooden stalls, calling out prices for fresh meat, bolts of dyed cloth and bags of grain.
The dirt streets were packed with people, horses, and wooden carts rattling over the stones.
I opened my eyes and stayed close to our little group out of fear, watching the way people’s eyes caught on my silver hair and slid away quickly once they clocked who I must be.
The whispers were there, floating through the air, but in the open marketplace, they were mostly swallowed up by the noise of the crowd.
“Look at those apples, Selah!” Vera said, tugging on my sleeve and pointing toward a fruit cart stacked high with red produce.
“The ones back at the house are always so bruised because the kitchen boys throw the crates around, but those look actually fresh.”
I smiled at her enthusiasm and signed back: BUY SOME THEN.
Mira looked back over her shoulder with a sigh, though her eyes were warm.
“We are here for things we actually need, Vera. Not to stuff your face with apples before noon. If you spend all your money on fruit now, you won’t have anything left for those sweet rolls you were whining about all morning.”
“I am not whining!” Vera protested, puffing out her cheeks as we walked.
“I am simply making sure that our group has high morale. A hungry guide is a bad guide, Mira. Everyone knows that.”
“You aren’t the guide, Lady Vera,” one of the maids behind us chimed in with a soft laugh.
“You’re just the loudest one here.”
“Hey! I know this market better than anyone!” Vera insisted, turning around to walk backward down the dirt path so she could glare at the maid.
“For instance, I know which butcher sells the good meat. That makes me essential personnel.”
I couldn’t help but let out a silent laugh, shaking my head as I watched her nearly trip over a wooden bucket sitting in the road.
“If you fall and injure yourself, you’ll be explaining that to Lord Garrick yourself.”
“I saw the bucket!” Vera claimed quickly, her face turning pink as she straightened her dress and turned back around.
“I was just… testing its structural stability!”
I lifted my hands, my fingers moving quickly: THE BUCKET WON.
Vera gasped playfully, slapping a hand over her chest as if I had shot her.
“Selah! You’re supposed to be on my side! I thought we were friends.”
“She’s on the side of common sense,” Mira said, stopping in front of a wide wooden table covered in some bundles of dried leaves and roots.
“Now, stay close, all of you. The herb seller gets grumpy if too many people crowd his table at once.”
We kept walking through the stalls, with Mira carefully inspecting a bundle of dried sage and arguing with the merchant over the price, when the warm mood fell apart completely.
Lady Cynthia appeared out of nowhere—I recognized her on sight.
How couldn’t I, when my arm still smarted with her claw marks?
She stepped out from behind a tailor’s shop, flanked by two of her own personal attendants who were wearing blue gowns.
Everyone in our own group immediately went tense, even the maids.
I watched a golden, wolfish light flash in Mira’s eyes as she set the dried herbs back down on the table.
The two maids behind us fell completely quiet, dropping their heads and staring fixedly at the ground.
Cynthia didn’t bother with pleasantries.
She sashayed forward, raising her nose haughtily.
Everyone stayed silent as she gave all of us proud looks, one after the other.
“Good morning, Lady Cynthia.” Mira greeted, though I could hear the ice in her tone.
“We were just passing by…”
But Cynthia ignored her and continued to glare at us, finally stopping at me.
She looked me over slowly from head to toe.
It was the exact same way a wealthy buyer might inspect livestock before deciding whether to make a bid.
“Well, well,” Cynthia simpered.
“Look what we have here. Has the Oracle been enjoying her stay at the estate? Has our Lord Garrick been treating his purchase well?”
Purchase?!
My blood warmed at that insult, but I stayed silent.
Cynthia made eye contact with me—I knew she was trying to bear me down with her gaze but I refused to shrink back or hide behind Mira. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
I looked her directly in the eyes, keeping my expression cold and blank.
A mocking grin spread across her face as Cynthia looked down her nose at me.
“Tell me… does it speak yet, or is it still just decoration?”
My anger boiled over right there and then.
I raised my hands right in front of her face, my fingers moving through the hand signs Mira had taught me: I UNDERSTAND EVERY WORD YOU’RE SAYING.
CAN YOU SAY THE SAME FOR YOURSELF?
Mira translated my signs out loud, and Cynthia’s smile thinned at that, her lips drawing back into a tight, ugly line.
The mock amusement vanished from her eyes.
She stepped even closer, coming so near to me that I could smell the suffocating scent of rose perfume she was wearing — clearly applied to mask something far colder, nastier, and sour underneath it.
“Listen to me very carefully, girl,” Cynthia warned.
“Whatever Lord Garrick thinks he’s playing at won’t last. Men like him get bored quickly, especially with strange and broken things pulled out of the dirt. Women like you are useful right up until they become inconvenient, he’ll perhaps put a baby in you before throwing you out into the streets. You should enjoy whatever little comfort you’ve been given now, because it has an expiration date. And when that day comes, no one will be here to protect you.”
Before Cynthia could even finish her sentence, Vera stepped right in front of me.
She was smaller than Cynthia by a whole head, but she didn’t back down an inch, standing tall and planting her boots firmly on the dirt path, shoving her small frame directly between us like a shield.
“You’re embarrassing yourself in public again, Lady Cynthia,” Vera said flatly, but her voice was loud enough to make a few passing shoppers turn their heads to look.
“If you actually have something to say to Selah, you can say it to my uncle’s face instead of cornering his household in a marketplace like a coward.”
Cynthia gasped softly, her eyes flashing with pure rage as she glared down at the younger girl standing in her way.
Vera laughed, and I’d never heard such hatred in her voice.
“Yes, that’s right, Cynthia. You are nothing but a coward.”
“Careful, little niece,” Cynthia hissed, leaning down until she was eye-to-eye with Vera.
“Loyalty to the wrong person gets people hurt.
You remember that, do you hear me?
“Then it’s a good thing I know exactly who the wrong person is.” Vera answered instantly.
Cynthia’s jaw was working as if she desperately wanted to raise her hand and slap Vera right there in front of the merchants and buyers.
But with dozens of townspeople starting to notice the confrontation and linger nearby, she pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders and swept away without another word.
Het two attendants hurrying behind her to keep up with her quick, angry stride.
The moment she was gone, I let out a long breath and stepped up beside Vera, placing my hand briefly and gratefully against her shoulder as we turned to continue our buying.
“Good riddance,” Vera muttered.