Page 7 of Chasing the Night

Chapter Three

All That Glistens

Chalice

I closed the door behind me and breathed in the fresh air of freedom. I had done it! I had pulled it off. The weight and sound of metal coins scraping and sliding about my pocket proved it. I had to force myself not to hold the deep worn pocket so that I wouldn’t draw attention. Eyes were everywhere on the mountain and most of them were only looking for one thing.

Opportunity.

It was funny. When you tried to act normal, you become so self-conscious everything seems awkward. Five steps in and I was questioning how I had ever managed to breathe and walk at the same fucking time. Each inhale and exhale felt like a dramatic effort. My rigid stance and awkward demeanor drew more attention than I probably would have if I’d taken the handful of silver out and played catch with it.

Certain that the Fated Few themselves were watching and preparing to smite me, I dipped into the first stall I came to and retreated into its dark, cozy embrace. I was so flustered I didn’t even realize what I was staring at until a large scarred arm stretched across and bid me to step away from the kiln.

“Dagma,” I blurted out before I even had a chance to look up at the burly man with big brown eyes.

“Aye,” he confirmed.

The man’s expressive features made up for his lack of verbal commitment. A polite smile met his eyes, which beseeched me to state my business.

“I… uh.” I felt like a fucking fool. Who tosses out a stranger’s name?

A large, very scarred stranger, I thought to myself as I stared up at his temple.

He had clearly suffered just as the seamstress described. My assessment was purely one of medical appreciation, but it didn’t make the staring any less awkward.

“Apologies.” I laughed, putting my head down. “I am a healer.”

The lies trickled past my smile, each coming easier than the last. Everyone loved the woman I made up. Even I was beginning to fall in love with her. She was brilliant. Her smile was easy, and genuine.

The woman I had created had no stress. No warrants or worries. Only opportunity and enough money to breathe easy for a few more days.

I slid my hand into my basket and felt around. It was hard to differentiate one cloth top from the next, but I knew when the circumference spanned my palm, I had the right one. I carefully pulled the jar of slugs out and cradled it before me.

“The hospital woman tells me the weapon making season is almost on us,” I lulled, easily meeting his gaze. His pleasant, attentive stance slowly churned into one of delight.

“For me?” he asked, barely keeping his excitement at bay.

“Indeed. I gathered them just for you. She told me of the injury you suffered… I thought perhaps it best, if you—” I stumbled over my words as a single black uniform caught my attention in the distance.

Ender, the dark-haired soldier from earlier stood smiling and observing.

Ender’s presence had thrown me off course, and I tried to focus on the blacksmith. I cleared my throat and returned to the conversation at hand. “I thought you might like to keep some on hand.”

It seemed all it took was a pretty face and a smile to tickle his coin purse. I offered both and happily gave him the slugs.

As my fingers dropped from the top of the cannister and trailed along the rack of tools, I realized how dark it had gotten. My own deep pockets were pulling the right side of my skirt in a staunch reminder of just how far I still had to walk home with my earnings.

Alone.

With an obscene amount of coin.

My heart started to speed again. The burst of fear registered across my face, causing Dagma to stop in his tracks.

“M’ Lady is well?” It was the longest sentence I had heard him utter. The fact that it had been wasted on me warmed my heart a little. Perhaps there was a chance for a new start, a chance for this… woman in me to be breathed into existence.

I took a deep breath and smiled before a shoulder casually brushed against mine. The rich scent of evergreen and something exotic engulfed me. I blinked up at Ender who had closed the distance between us, and my mouth suddenly turned drier than the Spicelands.

I clenched the basket and scrambled to recall what I was about to say. “Dagger. I was… about to inquire about one of your daggers.” I placed my hand just beneath my throat and absently soothed myself.