After taking a couple of deep breaths and resisting the urge to fuss with her hair and clothes, she began perusing the merchandise on display.
Market day in Riada. You could always go into the shops to purchase greens and fruits, fish and other seafood, and all kinds of meat, but as soon as the weather warmed up, merchants hauled out carts and tables and displayed their goods in the open air, turning the chore of shopping into a festive celebration. That one morning a week was as much about chatting with neighbors as it was about selecting the food for a couple of days’ worth of meals.
Even when she didn’t have to buy anything, Jillian looked forward to market day. The street swirled with color from the cloths that shaded the tables and the clothes worn by the men and women who were buying or selling. Voices mingled, rose, and fell in their own kind of music. The sound of a village, a community.
Keeping her wings tucked to protect them from the people jostling to see the merchandise, she wandered from one display to the next, looking at everything but buying nothing. Not yet, anyway. Marian had given her a shopping list but told her to purchase the ingredients for a meal she would like to learn how to make. Being a hearth witch, Marian was a wonderful cook—unlike Nurian, who was an excellent Healer and made healing brews that people actually liked drinking but, somehow, could make even an overspiced roast taste bland.
“Your basket is empty, Lady Jillian,” one merchant said, his voice a genial scold as he pointed at her basket. “Eyriens love the air, but even you can’t eat it.”
“First I have to decide what to eat. Then I’ll buy the ingredients,” she replied, smiling.
“What about seafood?” the fishmonger called. “I have fish fresh from my brother’s nets, brought to me just this morning. Or shrimp. What about lobster? I have some right here. I can put one in the pot and cook it for you if you don’t want to do it yourself.”
“You have a brother who catches fresh fish and lobsters?”
“My brother catches the fish. I have cousins who tend the lobster pots and also catch the shrimp. Lucky for you, huh? You won’t find fresher fish in all of Ebon Rih.”
Laughing, Jillian started to move on, then stopped. Marian had taught her how to make a spicy-sweet dressing for cold seafood served over fresh greens. Marian circled the plate with a couple of different kinds of sliced fruit and served it with crusty bread.
An easy dish to prepare for today’s midday meal, especially if the fishmonger cooked the lobster for her while she selected the other ingredients. And if Nurian didn’t get back from visiting her patients exactly on time, Jillian could put the meal together quickly once her sister got home, and nothing would overcook and spoil.
After checking Marian’s list, she said, “Two cooked lobsters and a pound of the shrimp.” That would be enough for everyone.
“Do you want to select your own lobsters?” The fishmonger gestured to the tank of water behind him.
“You can choose.” She wasn’t squeamish. She was Eyrien after all, and she’d seen enough game being dressed for the table. But lobsters were different. Even when they were dead, their beady eyes had an accusing stare that made her want to apologize while she ripped off their claws and broke open the shell. If she didn’t point to one, then they all had a chance to live a little longer—or at least live until the next customer made a selection. “I’ll make my other purchases and come back for them.”
Moving with purpose now, she purchased the other items that Marian wanted for the Yaslana household, then selected the fresh greens and other vegetables that she wanted for the salad, as well as the items she needed to make the spicy-sweet dressing.
She stood by the fruit cart, her eyes closed as she held up a piece of fruit so that she could breathe in the scent.
Then a male voice said, “Luscious, sweet, and deliciously ripe.”
Feeling heat stain her cheeks, Jillian opened her eyes and smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“I wasn’t talking about the fruit.”
She looked at the Opal-Jeweled Warlord standing beside her and felt butterfly wings in her belly. He had the dreamiest green eyes and stylishly disheveled russet hair that looked so striking compared with the black hair and gold eyes of the Eyrien race.
“Lord Dillon.” She knew she sounded breathless. Unsophisticated. She always did when she was around him.
“Lady Jillian.” A pleasant voice. A cultured voice with just a trace of an accent that, like his hair and eyes, made him so different from an Eyrien male.
A Rihlander from an influential family who lived in the eastern part of Askavi, Dillon had come to Riada to visit some cousins. She had met him a couple of weeks before at the lending library when he’d noticed her selection of books and asked her opinion of one he had chosen for himself, then apologized for being so forward and speaking to her without a proper introduction. It was such an aristo attitude, no doubt polished for fancy dances held in ballrooms or serving in a Queen’s court, and yet she didn’t get the feeling that he thought of her as a rube—a sentiment some of the aristo girls in the village managed to convey without saying anything that could get them into trouble with Prince Yaslana.
Since then, she and Dillon had met a few times—most often at the lending library, but also while she ran errands for Nurian or Marian. Sometimes she had Titian with her and the meeting was brief—barely a greeting in passing. And sometimes when she flew down to Riada alone, she and Dillon slipped away for a few minutes to talk, to have a few precious minutes in private to . . .
It wasn’t the open-mouthed kind of kiss she’d read about in the romance novels she hid from Nurian and read only in her room at night, but it wasn’t the dry brush of lips she’d experienced with Tamnar either. Dillon’s kisses were romantic, full of promises and desire.
Too much desire wasn’t good, wasn’t safe before she was old enough to have her Virgin Night, the ceremony that would remove the risk of her power and her Jewels being broken by her first experience of sexual intercourse. Dillon was old enough to have made the Offering to the Darkness and was now considered a grown man who wore the mantle of his full power. He was old enough to want a lover, and she couldn’t oblige. But how could she resist a few kisses when he told her he was dazzled by her because she was such a strong woman? How could she say no when he asked for a few minutes alone with her? It wasn’t like she was from an aristo family that required girls to have an escort when they spent time with a male friend.
As she selected the fruit and picked up loaves of crusty bread for herself and Marian, Dillon walked along with her, polite enough not to give offense but not chatting with the merchants. He seemed impatient, even a little aloof—until they passed a wide alleyway that led to the backs of the shops and the fields beyond.
“This way.” Dillon grabbed her arm as he took the basket and dropped it a few steps inside the alleyway.
“Dillon,” Jillian protested, looking back at the abandoned basket of fresh food. “You can’t leave the basket. The village cats will be all over the meat I picked up for Lady Marian!”
“She can wait.” He pulled her into the alleyway a few more steps.
“Well, let me put a shield and cold spell around—”
“You’re not her servant, Jillian. Why do you act like one?”
She blinked, confused by his sharp tone. “I don’t. I help Marian, and I get paid for it, but that doesn’t make me a servant.”
“Hired help, then.”