Page 51 of The Demon's Delight
Her mouth opened, then closed again, her eyes shifting away from my face. If that wasn’t confirmation, I didn’t know what was, though she didn’t address my question. “You don’t belong to me,” she argued.
“Yes, I do. I said as much the first night we met. Do you not recall?”
“That wasn’t— I didn’t—” She threw her hands up, faced flushed and normally composed demeanor flustered. I loved every second of watching her unravel, it put a particular kind offire in my blood. “That’s not the point! There’s no need to draw attention to ourselves, remember? Besides, there will be other vendors,” she said with finality.
“Of course.” I grabbed her hand and threaded my fingers through hers, kissing the back of her hand for good measure. “But you do, right? I mean, you think my face is pretty, so naturally you feel a little possessive over other people looking at it? Murderous even?” I asked, earning myself another rough exhale and hidden smile.
It was worth it.
And there were more vendors. Somanyof them. There was no product I could think of missing from the tables and tents and storefronts. It bordered on overwhelming.
By the third cosmetics stand, Hailon had secured us a pot of both black and purple lacquer and brushes to use with them along with a fresh container of healing ointment and a lotion for her skin. Along the way, we’d picked up a variety of interesting foods as well, and she’d enjoyed sampling two different kinds of mead.
Having made a full circuit of the main town square and most of the streets spiraling off from it, we started to work our way back to the Rusted Rooster. Hailon’s giggle was free and easy as she drifted from table to table, admiring and complimenting the artisans, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. She was more beautiful than anyone had a right to be.
I’d replaced the mead in her cup with water after the fourth one, but she was clearly still floating on the alcohol. I’d never been more aware of every eye drawn to her, nor my urge to remove so many men’s ability to see.
“Isn’t this nice, Seir? One day I want a bunch of these hanging from the roof of my porch, so when the wind blows, I get my own personal symphony.” She gently pushed on a glass rod, making it dance around. As it touched the other ones in the set,different tones rang out. She repeated the gesture with another one made from colorful stone slices.
“What are these called?”
“Wind chimes.” Her smile was rueful. “It’ll be a while though. Aunt Sal doesn’t really have a porch to speak of, it’s more of a stoop. So, I’ll need to get a house first.”
I reached out and touched some made of hollow wood tubes and another with various iron animals. I thought the glass ones sounded the best though. “They’re very nice.”
Hailon grabbed my hand for maybe the tenth time that evening. I loved that she’d gotten so comfortable. “Look! They have cake!”
I laughed at her but claimed one of the small iron tables outside the bakery for us as she purchased a special selection of little bites they’d designed just for the festival.
“I’ll get the drinks,” I offered after she sat.
“Mead?” she asked, an adorable begging expression on her face.
“No more mead. You need tea. I’m afraid you’re already headed for a dreadful headache in the morning.”
“You’re no fun,” she complained, sagging into her chair.
I leaned close to her ear, finger and thumb lightly holding her chin. She tried to hide the shiver, but I felt it run through her flesh. “Now that’s just completely untrue, Moonflower. Stay here. I have to go over there to get our tea.” I gestured back the way we’d come from, where the wind chime stand sat next to a teahouse.
“I’ll be right here,” she promised. Her eyes stuttered across someone in the crowd, her forehead pinching. I followed her eyes but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Hurrying, I placed my order at the teahouse, chatting with the chime vendor while I waited for it to brew so I could keep her in my sight.
When I returned to the table, she was patiently examining the pretty samples of cake she’d bought.
“It’s very hot,” I warned. “Be careful.”
“Okay.” Hailon blew over the top of her cup, steam curling toward her nose.
I knew I’d made the right choice as I watched the false energy slowly drain from her. The longer we sipped the hot floral brew and worked our way through the little samples of different cakes, the further she sagged into her seat.
“Which do you like best?” she asked.
“This one,” I pointed the little wooden fork at the spiced cake with apples. I liked how the cinnamon danced on my tongue and the apples were just the right amount of sweet.
“Really? The apples are kind of mushy. I think the chocolate.”
I traded her the remaining bites so we could each enjoy what we liked more. “Have you had enough?”
