Thankfully, between Dagny and Odier, I’m sensing I won’t be a part of any actual decision-making.
“I want to see your finest silks and linens in your most vibrant dyes. Nothing less will do for Her Highness,” Dagny demands, standing as tall as her stout frame allows.
“All of my cloth is the finest. My silks? The finest. My linens? The finest. Wools? The finest. I have brought the most sublime fabrics with me on this voyage. Cloth that Empress Roshmira herself has requested. You will find nothing else like it among those rags over there.” The Seacadorian clothier is a heavyset bald man who speaks in baritone, bows with a theatrical twirl of his hand, and does not hide his disdain for his competition. “Nothing but the finest cloth should touch Her Highness’s most exquisite body.” He offers another dramatic bow, giving me a chance to steal a wide-eyed glance at Elisaf.
“It sounds like we’re in agreement, then! Show me the best of your best, Odier,” Dagny demands with far more assertion than I’ve ever heard from her.
“They are all back here, for Her Highness’s perusal …” The two of them disappear into the throng of fabric, leaving Elisaf and me on the outskirts, my soldiers loitering.
“Did you not want to see what he has?” Elisaf asks.
“I don’t think my opinion matters here.”
He chuckles. “That may be true. Besides, I think someone wants to speak with you.”
I follow Elisaf’s nod. Bexley hovers at a stall, testing the weight of a material between her fingers, the ginger and gold in her hair glimmering beneath the sun. She rounds the table, her eyes lifting and zeroing in on me for three beats before she refocuses on the cloth.
“Is it safe?” The last time I saw her, she was straddling Kaders’s lap with her teeth in his neck, likely wishing she could sink them into mine.
“She would be a fool to try anything, and she is no fool. Regardless, I will be within reach and watching closely. But when someone like Bexley wishes to speak … you always listen.”
So she has something important to tell me. “What would I do without you, Elisaf?”
His smile is easy. “Somehow I think you would manage.”
Before Dagny returns, I stroll over to the next stall.
“You make a lot of noise,” Bexley says by way of greeting, testing the frayed edge of a silk between her fingertips. “It has spread through half of Cirilea already that the future queen is out buying pastries and servants in the market.”
“I’ve had a busy morning.”
“And with such a faithful guard too.” Her eyes dart to where I came from. “I remember Eli before. He was a regular at my establishment. A favorite of mine.”
Eli? “I guess I don’t have to ask how you two know each other.”
She smirks. “Not unless you’re in the mood for sordid details.”
“Not especially.”
Bexley wears a modest gown the color of pistachio sorbet, no hint of nipple to be seen. Still, she carries herself with an effortless confidence that I admire. No one tells her what to do.
Her sharp focus drifts over my neck, and I know what she’s thinking. A shiver runs along my spine. “You wanted to tell me something?”
“I was going to wait until I saw you at the repast, but when I heard you were here, I thought the sooner, the better.” She holds up a rich indigo silk against my cheek. “This would be a stunning color on you.”
“Careful. You’ll give Odier a coronary if he sees anyone else’s material touching me.”
She tsks. “Dear, dear Odier. He thinks so highly of himself. He would never step foot in an establishment such as mine.”
“I don’t have a lot of time before my seamstress returns.”
She sighs. “Kaders withheld a few details from you last night.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s what happens after Kaders spills his seed. He spills his secrets.” She smiles coyly. “I could have pried the information you obtained from him without you casting a single coin, if you’d stayed long enough.”
And watched the full sex show, she means. “You’re saying I’ve already paid up front for whatever you’re about to tell me.”
Her eyes narrow as she studies my face. “I heard you were meek and subservient.”
“Rumors are never entirely accurate, are they?”
“Or in this case, not at all.” She pauses. “The caster going by Gesine was not alone. She was traveling with an older woman. She also had a collar around her neck, but Kaders’s wind woman told him she was a seer.”
Wendeline mentioned the seers before. “Did she have a name?”
“I’m sure she did, but it wasn’t one that was used. The caster Gesine was protective of her. Kept her in their cabin and wouldn’t let anyone near, including the wind woman.”
I search for value in this new information, but there are still too many holes in my knowledge of this world. “And he didn’t say where they went when they got off his ship?”
“No, though they were met by a wagon. The older woman seemed confused, he said.”
“They easily could have left the city by now.”
“Perhaps, though there are many places to hide within, if you know the right people.”
And if there is anyone who knows the right people, it’s Bexley.
“I have a favor to ask you,” I say before I can talk myself out of it. I can’t rely only on Dagny’s network, especially not when I have the ear of Cirilea’s most resourceful, and I can’t wait for Boaz to show up in the throne room with a collared elemental.
Bexley’s eyebrow arches. “A favor for the Ybarisan princess that she dared not ask in front of her betrothed? I will not lie, I am intrigued.”
“I need you to find these women for me.”
Incredulous laughter sings from her lips. “Is that all?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you would be capable of something that straightforward. Was I wrong?”
She smirks. “Have you questioned the priestess Wendeline at the sanctum?”
“They’re not there.” At least, not yet.
“You seem so sure.”
“And you seem to know something I don’t.”
“I know many things you don’t.” Her lips twist with thought. “What are your intentions with these women? Will it earn me a place on a pyre next to you?”
So she does have thoughts for self-preservation. “I need information from them. That’s all. I have no intention of hurting anyone in Islor.” In fact, I’m desperately trying not to.
“What you’re asking will cost you.”
“What do you want?”
Her eyes settle to my neck before meeting mine again.
I swallow against my apprehension, though I was prepared for this the second I asked for the favor. “The king already gave you his answer on that.”
“And is the king your keeper?”
“No.” Technically, yes.
“I’m sorry, I thought you weren’t the meek and subservient Ybarisan princess you once pretended to be. Was I wrong?”
She’s persistent, which I expected. “You’re already getting your Ybarisan blood.”