Page 20 of Secrets of Avalon
Kellan exchanges a few coins for a skewer from the vendor and hands it to me.
I take it and nibble some off one end. The taste is rich and savory, unlike anything I’ve had before. “It’s not something exotic like unicorn, right?”
Kellan bursts out laughing, his genuine amusement lighting up his face and catching me completely off guard.
Shit. Is it unicorn? I stop chewing and try to decide if I should spit it out or swallow.
He quickly composes himself, doing his best not to continue laughing at my expense. “No, it’s just venison, Domina.”
“That’s good.” The sights, sounds, and smells are overwhelming, yet exhilarating. I keep hearing his laugh echo in my head. It’s nice. Friendly. Not at all like the scary demeanor he wore back on Drakoné and when he was speaking to the water-queen-lady. Which only makes me more suspicious of her.
Kellan leads me away from the kebab stall, through the crowd, his towering presence making a path for us. People bow and back away, giving us space to approach any booth he might choose. I try to stare at the cobblestone ground beneath my feet. No eye contact. I’m not a dragon. Don’t let people see who you are, Mel.
The first booth we pass looks like a weaver, except he has a half dozen of the cutest little goats tied in the back of his stall. The table in the front is covered with beautiful scarves and wraps. I run my fingertips along one of them, awed by the softness.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaa! Aaaaaaaaaaa!
I jump out of my skin and bump into Kellan who grounds me immediately. “It’s the goats.” His voice rumbles through his chest.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaa! Aaaaaaaaaaaa! Aaaaaaaaaaa!
“I apologize, I just gave them mead.” The shopkeeper says, running toward the goats with a bucket. He shoves the bucket up at the first screaming goat who takes a long drink and quiets down.
The other goats are still screaming and staring straight at me, but each of them settles after a drink from the bucket.
“What is he giving them? And why are they screaming?”
“Asgardian goats scream at anything magickal.” He says it so nonchalantly. Like it’s not weird at all.
“Wait. Are you saying they are screaming at us? Or wouldn’t they scream at everyone here? This whole place is…” My words trail off and I laugh. “What was he giving them to drink?”
“Mead.”
“He was getting them drunk?” My eyes widen and I don’t know whether to laugh or be appalled.
“Yes. You have to keep them drunk or they’d scream constantly. They make the absolute best wool. Their hair is very valuable.”
“Some goats scream on earth. Are they?”
Kellan is already nodding yes. “They most certainly were brought to Earth. I would assume they’ve been inbred into many breeds by now, but they still scream for the same reason.”
“A magick detector.” I say, glad the Inquisitors don’t have a clue about this little tidbit.
Next, he steers us toward a jewelry booth, pieces glittering under the flickering torchlight and hanging lanterns. The jewelry is beautiful, delicate silver filigree, gold wire wrapped stones, chains of various lengths and rings and bracelets dripping with jewels.
We move from one jewelry stall to another. I sneak a peek up at him. Kellan’s scanning each display, as if searching for something specific. Finally, we stop at a stall that’s more eye-catching than the rest.
“This is Calix.” Kellan gestures forward, inviting me to look up at the stranger. So he must be safe. The man behind the table is a burly figure, his tunic richly embroidered, his eyes lighting up when he sees Kellan. “He makes the best jewelry in Olympus.”
Olympus? Like Ancient Greece mountain of the gods type Olympus? I almost say the questions out loud, but I also don’t want to draw attention to myself, even if Kellan thinks this guy is safe.
Calix’s gaze shifts to the green, snake-like tattoo wriggling around my wrist. Surprise flashes across his face, and he regards me with a mix of reverence and curiosity. “You took another bond? Well, I… Many blessings to you.”
He holds out a hand and I place my palm in his, hesitantly, but Kellan isn’t telling me not to. He’s standing there, waiting for me to do it. Calix smiles and brings my hand to his lips, kissing it reverently. “It is an honor, Domina of Kellan. You’re dressed from Drakoné, but–”
Panic rises, prickling beneath my skin like tiny needles of fear. I'm supposed to stay under the radar, invisible in this sea of magickal beings.
“No names, Calix. Not today.” Kellan waves away Calix’s question, like it’s not rude at all to keep my identity a secret.