Page 66 of City of Secrets and Shadows
“See?” Octavia linked her arm through mine. “No one is looking twice at us.”
She was right. The crowd flowed around us, merchants hawking their wares, labourers hauling goods, women shopping for household necessities. No sneering nobles, no evaluating instructors. Just the beautiful chaos of ordinary life.
“Where to first?” I asked, feeling a smile tug at my lips for the first time since the water trial.
“The market, of course. Then perhaps a meal somewhere with outdoor tables. I know a place by the east fountain where they serve wine that won’t blind you.”
I laughed. “Setting a high standard there.”
"For you? Always."
The Eastern Market sprawled across several blocks, a riot of colours and sounds and smells. Merchants from across the Empire displayed their wares under bright canopies. The scent of spices mingled with the aroma of roasting meat and fresh bread. Children darted between stalls, playing elaborate games of chase while their parents bargained.
“Oh, look!” Octavia pulled me toward a stall selling delicate glass beads in jewel tones. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
The merchant, an older woman with henna-stained hands, smiled at our interest. “From the southern deserts,” she said. “Each one hand-blown over an open flame.”
I ran my fingers over a strand of deep blue beads that reminded me of the night sky over my homeland. “They’re exquisite.”
“You have a good eye,” the merchant said. “Those are made with rare cobalt from the eastern mines. Very difficult to work with, but the colour is unmatched.”
For a moment, I was transported back to my childhood, before the soldiers came. My mother had owned a necklace of blue beads, passed down from her grandmother. She’d let me wear it on feast days, the glass cool against my skin.
“How much?” I asked before I could think better of it.
Octavia shot me a warning look. We hadn’t brought much coin — just enough for a modest meal and perhaps a cup of wine. But something in me needed this small connection to the past I’d lost.
The merchant named a price that was reasonable for the quality but still more than we could afford. I began to reluctantly withdraw my hand when Octavia stepped forward.
“My friend here is getting married,” she lied smoothly. “It’s tradition in her province for the bride to wear blue beads. Would you consider a lower price for a bride’s good fortune?”
The merchant’s eyes crinkled. “Ah, a bride! Well, that changes things. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for bad luck on your wedding day.” She named a new price, one that would leave us with just enough for a modest meal.
I started to protest, but Octavia was already counting out the coins. “Consider it a gift,” she whispered. “Everyone deserves something beautiful that’s just for them.”
The merchant wrapped the beads in a scrap of silk and handed them to me with a blessing for fertility and happiness. I thanked her, throat tight with unexpected emotion.
As we continued through the market, the beads a comforting weight in the pocket of my stola, I found myself relaxing further. Octavia and I sampled small bites from food vendors — tiny skewers of spiced lamb, honey-drizzled pastries, crisp vegetables with tangy dipping sauce. We paused to watch a street performer juggle flaming torches, and applauded when a troupe of dancers performed a traditional harvest celebration from the western provinces.
By the time we reached the east fountain, my earlier humiliation had receded to a dull ache rather than a sharp pain. The fountain square was lined with small tavernas, their tables spilling out onto the cobblestones. Octavia led me to one with a faded red awning and a view of the sparkling water.
“Two cups of the house wine,” she told the serving girl who approached our table. “And whatever’s fresh from the kitchen today.”
The wine arrived quickly, deep red and fragrant in simple clay cups. I took a sip and closed my eyes in appreciation. It wasn’t the fine vintage served at academy functions, but it was rich and honest on my tongue.
“To freedom,” Octavia said, raising her cup. “Even if it’s just for an afternoon.”
“To friendship,” I countered, clinking my cup against hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Tavi.”
Her smile softened. “You’d manage. You always do. But I’m glad you don’t have to.”
Our food arrived — a simple but delicious spread of fresh bread, olives, goat cheese, and a hearty bean stew flavoured with herbs and smoked pork. We ate with our hands, lickingour fingers without concern for noble etiquette, and ordered a second cup of wine when the first was gone.
“Tell me about the water trial,” Octavia said eventually, as we lingered over the last of our meal. “What really happened?”
I sighed, but found the memory didn’t sting quite as sharply now. I told her everything — the terror of deep water, Valeria’s sabotage, Jalend’s rescue, and my humiliating retreat.
“So this Jalend,” she said when I’d finished. “Are we adding him to Marcus and Septimus?”I was taking another drink of wine, and I choked on it at her words.“Hardly, he can barely stand me.”
