Page 16 of To No End

I gathered the pieces into a small drawstring bag and tethered them under my riding cloak to avoid questioning on my way out the door. I’m not sure my father or mother would have stopped me if they knew my intentions, but many were gifts from special occasions and I couldn’t bear to look them in the eye and see the hurt. They no longer held meaning to me if I was going to be erased.

That was how I felt. My emotions passed over me in waves. Some were low and steady, easy to control and accept. Occasionally, I was unexpectedly drawn under treacherous tides of anger, frustration, and sadness. I knew I had to keep a lid on all of it or I’d end up saying hurtful things I didn’t know if I meant. Just because they felt true now didn’t mean they were.

I didn’t bother to stop for food in the dining room or say farewell to anyone. I was eager to get out of the manor and be on my way. It was still early by the time I reached the stable, but Iwas lucky to find the groom already engaged in the day’s chores. He walked Rain up to me and prepared to hoist my usual saddle, embossed with the emblem of House Blackthorn—but I did not want to stand out in any recognizable way.

I halted him with my hand and asked for an unmarked saddle instead. He looked at me with confusion, but did as I asked.

I pushed past him hurriedly as he was brushing away the dirt and mounted. He questioned, “When shall I expect your return?” but I was already galloping away in the direction of a nearby town.

The surrounding towns were lively and filled with busy markets, shops, and pubs full of unique sights and sounds. I had been to the occasional atelier with my mother and sister for dress fittings, but never this part of town.

Our staff normally shopped for us, so it was very unfamiliar. I did not want anyone to know who I was; I kept my chin down and tried to act like I belonged, like I knew where I was going.

My plan seemed simple but, in execution, it was more complex. I wanted to find people in need and disperse the jewels currently weighing down the right side of my cloak. I could hear the jangling with each step that Rain took.

But I knew if I just handed out jewels, the people would end up suffering interrogation, possibly even be accused of thievery. Honestly, I wasn’t convinced that I wouldn’t be accused myself.

I found a horse stall and was able to rope Rain, this way I could move about the town and explore more freely.

This place was buzzing with all kinds of Fae doing their errands and bartering; the sun overhead casting shadows all along the roads. The smell in the air was ever-evolving with each shift in the breeze. Sometimes it smelled sour, like rotten fruit or stale beer. In other wafts it smelled earthy, like dirt and farmanimals. Sometimes scents of sweet sugar from a nearby bakery would mask the less pleasant odors and create an intoxicating swirl in my nose.

I moved swiftly from building to building and stall to stall, looking for a place where I could convert the jewels to coins, when I finally found what I was looking for at the end of a long dirt road.

The sign in the window readWendell’s Exchange. The glass panes appeared dirty and curtains were drawn from the inside so you couldn’t see beyond. The exterior looked unwelcoming and the wooden steps creaked as I made my way to the door.

I only knew about this place because Gris had once admitted to me that he pawned some jewelry his father made to get some fast coin, but he never told me what he needed it for. I twisted the brass knob and quietly stepped into the establishment.

The inside was dark, and I could see dust flying about in the few sunbeams peeking in slits through the windows. A very old heavy-set male with ebony skin and white frizzy hair sat behind a giant wooden desk. He beckoned me forward with his hand while he rattled around his desk, finally finding a tiny pair of spectacles and placing them on the bridge of his freckled nose.

“How can I help you?” he said. His voice was deeper and warmer than I expected. He felt oddly safe and friendly, despite the rather drab appearance of his business.

I sat down reluctantly in the chair on the other side of his desk and said, “Is this a place where I can find a fair value of coin in exchange for jewels?”

I had no idea if what I was asking was correct but I tried to sound like I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t sure what the jewels were worth, but I knew it was a lot and I feared being cheated.

He let out a hearty deep laugh. “Ha! Has someone accused me of not being fair?”

My fingers twitched anxiously against my thighs. I was worried I had offended him with my wording, which was not my intent.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean—” He cut me off, “Oh dear, I’m just yanking your chain—or should I say, your jewels,” he smiled.

I let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Why don’t you show me what you’ve got, and we can discuss from there.” He waved his hand across the table, pointing to a candlelit soft pad on his desk where I assumed he wanted me to display the items for exchange.

I lifted the bag from under my cloak and, one by one, laid out each piece almost like it had been displayed in my drawer. His eyes widened further with each item I pulled from the bag.

“These are very beautiful, very valuable,” he looked up at me between his spectacles, eyes squinting with some accusation. I figured there was no point in mincing words.

“They are mine, and I have no use for them anymore, but I do have use for the coin they’d fetch.” I stared him down with all the confidence I could muster.

From the pocket of my cloak, I pulled out a silver medallion. On it was the embossed crest of my family. It was the unquestionable proof of my High Fae status, and what he needed to know to ensure that I was indeed the owner of the jewels and not a thief.

There wasn’t usually a need to show a family medallion, but they did serve a purpose. Once I was old enough to understand, my father and mother emphasized the importance that my sister and I always had these medallions with us whenever we left our home, even with escorts.

They were made by the king’s blacksmith, and if lost, you would not receive another. I can’t remember the last time I had even shown anyone mine. It had seemed unnecessary. But today, it finally served a purpose.

I had heard that lost ones were invaluable, but to sell them rather than return them was a high crime. Having a medallion that wasn’t yours meant you could pretend to be someone of high standing.

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