Page 31 of Fear the Flames
“You hate dress shopping.” I recognize Saskia’s voice right away.
“I love dress shopping,” Cayden retorts. He kept the door between our rooms open last night, but I didn’t hear him moving around this morning. When I peeked into his room, there were no signs of him other than an unmade bed and a half-drunk cup of coffee on his nightstand. He must have been out before dawn. Two guards are always standing in front of my door, so it’s not like he left me sleeping and defenseless, even though I always sleep with a knife under my pillow.
“No. You and Ryder love getting drinks at the tavern while I shop for dresses,” Saskia argues.
“Wait, are we not getting drinks at the tavern?” Ryder’s confused voice joins the mix.
“No, I told you, we’re going dress shopping,” Cayden states in a tone that makes me believe he’s pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I thought you were joking. Why are we going dress shopping?” Ryder inquires.
“I think I know the reason,” Saskia sings.
“Elowen!” Cayden cuts off their conversation and steps around Saskia when Finnian and I exit the castle. Saskia leans forward, her ivory day dress flowing around her ankles, and whispers something to Ryder that causes them both to laugh before they slowly follow behind Cayden. He throws them a glare over his shoulder and stops in front of me.
“Saskia Neredras.” She sticks out her hand to Finnian.
“Finnian Eira.” His freckled hand grasps hers.
“You’re coming dress shopping?” I quirk a brow at Cayden.
“I told you that you’re stuck with me. I’m your guard,” he answers.
“Are the fabrics going to bite me?” I clutch my chest and widen my eyes.
“If they do, I promise to rip them from your body. Can’t have you getting hurt on my watch,” he says while grabbing my shoulders and ushering us toward the stairs that descend over the river.
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see. Saskia walks beside me, and the three boys stay behind us. The waterfall looks gorgeous in the sunlight, and I notice a bridge that rises over the peak of the falls; it must be beautiful to walk across. I turn away from the few gondolas gliding along the surface of the lake as the town rises in front of me. It’s much easier to absorb the details now that flower petals aren’t flying through the air. The shops along the main road are made of mixed gray stones and dark wood, some have vines creeping up the front and sides, but all have different colored shutters and signs. It’s more crowded than any town I’ve ever been to—horses trot through the cobblestone streets, people walk from shop to shop with baskets on their arms, and others wheel carts of fresh fruits and fine fabric. Swords glimmer in the sunlight outside of blacksmith shops. Dresses in windows we pass make me wonder where Saskia is taking me ifthosedon’t belong to the seamstress she considers the best. We pass perfumeries, apothecaries, flower shops, and taverns.
It’s overwhelmingly real. The group chatters amongst each other, but I just focus on taking in every little detail. I never thought I would walk down a street outside of Aestilian where people could smile at me, knowing exactly who I am. I’ve hidden who I am for so long that sometimes I don’t even feel like myself. Instead of being a ghost, I can be a person. People can know my name and remember my face after I leave a tavern or a shop. I’ve always known I wanted my dragons, but I never knew how badly I wanted the opportunity to exist.
The scent of vanilla, apples, and cinnamon draws my gaze and makes me stop dead in my tracks. A force slams into me from behind, and I only know it’s Cayden when leather-covered arms wrap around me, steadying me, and the scent of him surrounds me. I jump out of his hold as if his touch burns me—it may as well have. I can still feel his hard chest pressing into me, even with the space between us. His touch isn’t something I can easily erase from my mind. I’m unable to meet his eyes even though I can feel them on me.
“Is something wrong?” Finnian scrunches his orange brows together. His eyes scan the area my head was turned toward, and a knowing smile slides onto his face. “She wants to go to the bakery.”
Saskia peers around me. “That’s a good one!” She loops her arm through mine and practically drags me over to the pink trimmed door with a sign in the shape of a cupcake hanging over it.
The bakery is tiny, nestled between two larger shops. The bakery we have in Aestilian is even smaller and usually only sells bread. Nothing too extravagant considering all the ingredients it requires just to make one cake. I inhale the sugary scent deeply as Saskia and I walk over to the counter. Wicker baskets filled with loaves of bread line the wall behind it. Glass cases with all kinds of pastries stand tall on either side of the counter; stuffed with fruit tarts, flaky and fluffy bread, cream puffs, layered cakes, chocolate muffins, and more.
A short elderly man with flour on his cheek steps out from behind a curtain that I’m assuming leads to the kitchen. “Oh!” he exclaims, wiping his hands on his apron. “I didn’t hear the bell. What can I get for you all?”
Finnian, Saskia, and Ryder all stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the glass cabinets, discussing what their pastry of choice will be. I spin around and find Cayden leaning against the far wall of the tiny bakery, hands in the pockets of his black leather pants. They’re looser than the ones I’ve seen him in. He’s not in armor, but a sword still hangs around his hips. He’s wearing a loose navy blue shirt with the laces by his neck undone, and a black leather jacket over it.
My feet carry me toward him even though my chest winds tighter with every step I take. His eyes track me the entire way. “Not a fan of pastries?” I inquire.
He shrugs. “I haven’t eaten enough of them to know what I’m in the mood for.”
“Didn’t have enough birthday cake as a boy?” I joke, but immediately regret it when his shoulders stiffen slightly.
“Not exactly,” he flatly states without looking at me. I know that look, even if he tries to hide it. It makes me want to reach out to him and let him know I understand that look without words. He doesn’t need to use words for me to hear his thoughts. The broken and burdened have a language of their own, and only they can understand it.
“I haven’t had many either, but I saw one of my favorites in there. We can split it if you want.” His unreadable eyes flash back to me. Gods, I feel so stupid. Why did I say that? I blame empathy. Empathy makes me stupid sometimes. It’s just more ammunition for him to tease me with.
“Okay,” he murmurs, quieting my thoughts. His face inches closer to mine as he pushes off the wall and my breath catches in my throat. I feel like I’m in a trance while we walk over to the now empty counter, and I ask the baker to cut an apple tart in half.
“Commander?” The man pauses the knife over the tart, and it clatters onto the counter as he vigorously wipes his flour-covered hands on his apron. “It’s an honor, sir.” He sticks a hand over the counter, which Cayden grasps, giving it a firm shake. His face still hasn’t changed from that cool, impassive look, and it makes me recall what Nyrinn said about him. I reach into my pocket to pull out some coins, but a large, calloused hand wraps around mine. My throat tightens as his skin glides against mine.
“It was my idea.” My voice comes out as a whisper, which he can hear perfectly because his face is angled down. I don’t understand this. I’ve stared down death but buying a pastry with him is what makes me nervous. Emotions are bullshit; they never do what I want them to do.
