Frozen Tides
Page 51
• • •
Kyan followed her outside. “Lucia, stop.”
“It’s funny, really.” Lucia laughed, but it sounded as humorless as it felt. A storm was brewing inside of her, one she couldn’t wait to unleash. “What was I expecting? To discover a nice, normal family, with a mother and father and siblings who would be happy to have found me again? How ridiculous.”
Kyan took her by her shoulders. “I know your frustration and disappointment very well. You need to use it to make you stronger. Use everything you feel—both the good and the bad—to give you power.”
“I’m utterly alone. In a world that I hate. I hate it so much.”
“You’re not alone, little sorceress. You have me.”
Her eyes stung, but she refused to cry. Instead, she looked up into his face. “I do?”
“Of course you do. You think you and I are so different, but we’re exactly the same. I want all the same things you do—a family, a home. A real, passionate life. But those things are always just out of reach for us. And because of that, we both harbor an uncontrollable rage that needs to be released. And when we release that rage, others join in our suffering. Do you know what that means?”
She neither nodded nor shook her head, instead keeping her gaze on him steady and resolute. “What?”
“It means we’re family.”
He said it with such certainty, such confidence, that she knew he meant it. The heavy weight that had settled on her heart lifted just a little. “You and I. Family.”
Kyan smiled. “Yes. And once we reunite with my siblings, we’ll be a fearsome sight for these flawed, lowly mortals.”
“But I’m a mortal.”
“Oh, that’s nothing but a bit of a hindrance, a small dose of fragility that we needn’t think about just yet.” He stroked her dark hair, tucking it behind her ears. “Now, I’m going to go see a witch about a wheel. You stay here and explore the market. Clear your mind. Enjoy yourself until I return.”
“My mother used to do that—go to the market to make herself feel better.” Lucia frowned. “The queen, I mean. Not my mother. The queen used to take me to Ravencrest to buy me things she thought a proper Limerian princess should wear. Dresses, slippers, jewelry. But all I wanted was books.”
Kyan smiled and nodded toward the busy market. “I’m sure there are all sort of books over there. Go. Buy whatever pleases you. And I’ll see you soon, all right?”
“All right.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and the unexpected gesture made her smile.
Lucia walked to the market in the center of the village, immersing herself into the crowd buzzing around hundreds of vendors selling their wares from colorfully painted stalls and tents. Anything she could have wanted—wine, vegetables, dried meats, beaded jewelry, embroidered gowns, beautiful quilts—was available to buy.
A man seated behind an easel called out to her. “Lovely young lady! Please do me the favor of allowing me to draw you. It would be my pleasure. Only five silver centimos.”
“I have only limmeas.”
“Very well. A portrait for only ten silver limmeas, then.”
“You would ask for twice the price in Limerian currency? That doesn’t make any sense. I’ve used my coins in Paelsia without problem up until now.”
The man spread his hands, as if to suggest he had no control over his prices. “Centimos are accepted everywhere in Mytica without question, but limmeas are not. That is just the way it is. But all right, how about eight silver limmeas?”
“Your work is not worth that price,” she scoffed. She continued on, leaving the foolish artist behind. What a lowly, peasant-like thing to do—bargain with customers to make a sale.
Next she passed a stall strung up with small, skinned animal carcasses hanging. The seller waved at her. “Come, sample my spiced warlag shavings on some freshly baked bread. Or perhaps some chaeva seeds, just the thing to relieve one’s dreaded monthly cramps?”
Lucia caught a whiff of the strongly spiced warlag, a common animal native to Paelsia that looked like a cross between a rabbit and a rat. Her stomach lurched.
“No, thank you.” She quickly passed the stall.
Having escaped the vendor and the overpowering warlag odor, she came to a stall adorned with scarves, all hand stitched with elaborate floral patterns. She stopped to run her hand along a pretty blue and violet one.
“Yes, lovely choice. That would go very well with your eyes.” The old vendor smiled, stretching her gaunt, lined face and revealing several missing teeth.
“It’s beautiful,” Lucia acknowledged.
The woman took the scarf and draped it around Lucia’s shoulders. “I knew it. This was made for you. You were meant to have it, no one else.”
The sumptuous material alone was worth far more than any quickly sketched portrait, let alone the time and skill that went into the tailoring and intricate embroidery. She reached into her bag of coins. “How much is it?” she asked. “Fair warning, I have only limmeas with me.”
The vendor nodded. “Two silver limmeas, then.”
Lucia’s brows shot up. “So little?”
“It would be my pleasure to know my creation will be worn and appreciated by a lovely girl like you.”
Lucia handed the woman three gold coins instead. “Take these and know I will wear it with pride.”
All the old woman could do was stare after her, a gleam of delighted surprise shining in her eyes, as Lucia continued on in her new purchase.
Next, she lingered at a busy stall displaying beaded tunics, all of them far too eye-catching and colorful for anyone in Limeros to wear in public. Still, she found herself drawn to one in particular, soft and tailored to look like a hawk’s silhouette, and ran her fingers along the seam.
Someone bumped into her, and she turned to see a handsome young man with wide shoulders and sparkling eyes. “Oh, apologies,” he said.
She tried to ignore him, turning back to the hawk tunic.
“Lovely shirt,” he said. “Don’t you think? A bit too Auranian for my tastes, though.”
“I don’t much feel like conversation today. You can be on your way.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a beautiful day . . . not as beautiful as you, of course.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Very well, as you wish. But before I go, I need something from you.”
She turned to glare at his smiling face. “What?”
He nodded at her drawstring purse. “That.”
She sighed, feeling sorry for the aspiring thief who chose to bother with her today. “You definitely need to—”
But before she could finish, the man yanked the purse right out of her hand with nearly painful force. She gasped, and he covered her face with his hand and shoved her backward, sending her crashing into the tunic stall.
Then a familiar shroud of darkness descended over her.
She looked up to see the sky quickly clouding over as she rose to her feet, then scanned the crowd for the thief, ready to light him on fire and watch him burn.
He thought he could steal from her?
He would never steal from anyone else ever again.
She had him clearly in her sights, but before she could unleash her magic, the thief tripped and fell, hard, to the ground. Lucia rushed over and joined the crowd forming around him.
Kyan followed her outside. “Lucia, stop.”
“It’s funny, really.” Lucia laughed, but it sounded as humorless as it felt. A storm was brewing inside of her, one she couldn’t wait to unleash. “What was I expecting? To discover a nice, normal family, with a mother and father and siblings who would be happy to have found me again? How ridiculous.”
Kyan took her by her shoulders. “I know your frustration and disappointment very well. You need to use it to make you stronger. Use everything you feel—both the good and the bad—to give you power.”
“I’m utterly alone. In a world that I hate. I hate it so much.”
“You’re not alone, little sorceress. You have me.”
Her eyes stung, but she refused to cry. Instead, she looked up into his face. “I do?”
“Of course you do. You think you and I are so different, but we’re exactly the same. I want all the same things you do—a family, a home. A real, passionate life. But those things are always just out of reach for us. And because of that, we both harbor an uncontrollable rage that needs to be released. And when we release that rage, others join in our suffering. Do you know what that means?”
She neither nodded nor shook her head, instead keeping her gaze on him steady and resolute. “What?”
“It means we’re family.”
He said it with such certainty, such confidence, that she knew he meant it. The heavy weight that had settled on her heart lifted just a little. “You and I. Family.”
Kyan smiled. “Yes. And once we reunite with my siblings, we’ll be a fearsome sight for these flawed, lowly mortals.”
“But I’m a mortal.”
“Oh, that’s nothing but a bit of a hindrance, a small dose of fragility that we needn’t think about just yet.” He stroked her dark hair, tucking it behind her ears. “Now, I’m going to go see a witch about a wheel. You stay here and explore the market. Clear your mind. Enjoy yourself until I return.”
“My mother used to do that—go to the market to make herself feel better.” Lucia frowned. “The queen, I mean. Not my mother. The queen used to take me to Ravencrest to buy me things she thought a proper Limerian princess should wear. Dresses, slippers, jewelry. But all I wanted was books.”
Kyan smiled and nodded toward the busy market. “I’m sure there are all sort of books over there. Go. Buy whatever pleases you. And I’ll see you soon, all right?”
“All right.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and the unexpected gesture made her smile.
Lucia walked to the market in the center of the village, immersing herself into the crowd buzzing around hundreds of vendors selling their wares from colorfully painted stalls and tents. Anything she could have wanted—wine, vegetables, dried meats, beaded jewelry, embroidered gowns, beautiful quilts—was available to buy.
A man seated behind an easel called out to her. “Lovely young lady! Please do me the favor of allowing me to draw you. It would be my pleasure. Only five silver centimos.”
“I have only limmeas.”
“Very well. A portrait for only ten silver limmeas, then.”
“You would ask for twice the price in Limerian currency? That doesn’t make any sense. I’ve used my coins in Paelsia without problem up until now.”
The man spread his hands, as if to suggest he had no control over his prices. “Centimos are accepted everywhere in Mytica without question, but limmeas are not. That is just the way it is. But all right, how about eight silver limmeas?”
“Your work is not worth that price,” she scoffed. She continued on, leaving the foolish artist behind. What a lowly, peasant-like thing to do—bargain with customers to make a sale.
Next she passed a stall strung up with small, skinned animal carcasses hanging. The seller waved at her. “Come, sample my spiced warlag shavings on some freshly baked bread. Or perhaps some chaeva seeds, just the thing to relieve one’s dreaded monthly cramps?”
Lucia caught a whiff of the strongly spiced warlag, a common animal native to Paelsia that looked like a cross between a rabbit and a rat. Her stomach lurched.
“No, thank you.” She quickly passed the stall.
Having escaped the vendor and the overpowering warlag odor, she came to a stall adorned with scarves, all hand stitched with elaborate floral patterns. She stopped to run her hand along a pretty blue and violet one.
“Yes, lovely choice. That would go very well with your eyes.” The old vendor smiled, stretching her gaunt, lined face and revealing several missing teeth.
“It’s beautiful,” Lucia acknowledged.
The woman took the scarf and draped it around Lucia’s shoulders. “I knew it. This was made for you. You were meant to have it, no one else.”
The sumptuous material alone was worth far more than any quickly sketched portrait, let alone the time and skill that went into the tailoring and intricate embroidery. She reached into her bag of coins. “How much is it?” she asked. “Fair warning, I have only limmeas with me.”
The vendor nodded. “Two silver limmeas, then.”
Lucia’s brows shot up. “So little?”
“It would be my pleasure to know my creation will be worn and appreciated by a lovely girl like you.”
Lucia handed the woman three gold coins instead. “Take these and know I will wear it with pride.”
All the old woman could do was stare after her, a gleam of delighted surprise shining in her eyes, as Lucia continued on in her new purchase.
Next, she lingered at a busy stall displaying beaded tunics, all of them far too eye-catching and colorful for anyone in Limeros to wear in public. Still, she found herself drawn to one in particular, soft and tailored to look like a hawk’s silhouette, and ran her fingers along the seam.
Someone bumped into her, and she turned to see a handsome young man with wide shoulders and sparkling eyes. “Oh, apologies,” he said.
She tried to ignore him, turning back to the hawk tunic.
“Lovely shirt,” he said. “Don’t you think? A bit too Auranian for my tastes, though.”
“I don’t much feel like conversation today. You can be on your way.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a beautiful day . . . not as beautiful as you, of course.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Very well, as you wish. But before I go, I need something from you.”
She turned to glare at his smiling face. “What?”
He nodded at her drawstring purse. “That.”
She sighed, feeling sorry for the aspiring thief who chose to bother with her today. “You definitely need to—”
But before she could finish, the man yanked the purse right out of her hand with nearly painful force. She gasped, and he covered her face with his hand and shoved her backward, sending her crashing into the tunic stall.
Then a familiar shroud of darkness descended over her.
She looked up to see the sky quickly clouding over as she rose to her feet, then scanned the crowd for the thief, ready to light him on fire and watch him burn.
He thought he could steal from her?
He would never steal from anyone else ever again.
She had him clearly in her sights, but before she could unleash her magic, the thief tripped and fell, hard, to the ground. Lucia rushed over and joined the crowd forming around him.
