Page 102 of Deadwood
“Where do the tradespeople come from?” I asked, curious if this would be as dangerous as everything else seemed to be and taking advantage of the alone time with her to ask questions about anything.
“Not Amosite, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she supplied. “Some come in at the ports from other continents, and others live their lives traveling and selling their creations, never really settling in one place too long.”
The sight of the market coming into view as she spoke nearly froze me in my tracks. Booths were set up all along the street, people bustling about. Some had carts full of goods, others overflowing armfuls of supplies. People wore clothes just as me, while others wore more risqué attire. There was no dress code in Deadwood, that much was certain. The freedom to express themselves opened an aching longing inside me. If today was as close as I got to being able to do that, I’d be satisfied.
“Oh, look!” Siara squealed, grabbing my hand and tugging me in the direction of a booth selling assorted pieces of jewelry. “I think opal would look amazing on you.”
I bent over to get a better look at the piece Siara had pointed out. An array of colors littered the white stone, a delicate gold chain attached to the piece. In the sun, the greens turned to purple, to orange and royal blue, shining rainbows with every shift of the light.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
The vendor, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a sun-splotched nose, eyed me, her gaze carousing up and down the length of my body. “Too much for you.” She went back to her other customer, lifting another piece up into the sunlight for the patron to admire.
Siara narrowed her eyes on the woman, then set two vials of magic on the table, the blue liquid glinting in the sun. Water magic. “It’s for me.”
The lady pocketed the vials, waving us off.
Siara picked up the chain, holding it out to me. “Here you go.”
“Siara, I can’t accept that,” I said.
The stone swung in the air as she waited for me to take it, bringing it closer. “Yes, you can.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have any magic or enough coin to give you.”
“Consider it a gift for your travels, then,” she said.
The necklace as a whole was exquisite, more eye-catching than any of the gaudy pieces I was forced to wear with my outfits back in Amosite. There, it was to brag of the wealth my father had. Here, I could wear it simply because I liked it. That thought alone convinced me to accept it.
“Fine, but I’m getting you something in return.”
She shrugged, then spun her finger in a circle. I turned around and lifted my hair off my neck. She clasped it, adjusting it so it lay directly in between my collarbones. I faced her again, finding a gleaming smile on her face. “Even more beautiful when it’s on.”
With one last admiring look, she started to head to the next booth, but my attention caught on a burly man pocketing three bracelets and a vial of magic off the table we’d just purchased from.
Without thinking, I spoke up. “Hey! Put those back.”
His heated glare landed on me, but I refused to shrink away. From the existing tattoos on his forearms, more lines etched in around his wrists. I wanted to stare at the ink, to watch as the swirls took their shape in his skin, almost like a brand. The work itself was almost like a trance I was sucked into but quickly snapped out of when he stomped directly in front of me.
“What was that?” he gritted out.
I had nothing on him—no strength or height—as he towered a foot and a half over me, but still, I held my chin high. “I said put them back.”
His nostrils flared, the piercings on both sides moving with them, and I suddenly wished I would’ve held my tongue. I didn’t know who was fae in this town, and I really didn’t want to find out this way. “What are you going to do about it, bitch? Glare at me to death? Stomp on my big toe?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but a hand shot out, landing on his chest. It shoved him back a foot, and a man wearing all black stepped between us. Even from the back of his head, I recognized Bowen. Electricity practically rolled off him, prickling my body with awareness as something inside me swirled in a frenzy with his presence.
“I suggest you leave the lady alone,” Bowen warned, his voice eerily calm.
Around his hands and tattooed arms, smoke swirled, and the tendrils only grew as more joined the cluster from nearby grills and candles.
The man stared Bowen down, his fisted hands flexing before finally backing away. He shook his head once, turning around. I noted he didn’t return the jewelry and magic he stole.
“He stole her merchandise,” I said. “And a vial.”
Bowen turned around. Our chests were too close. In the beaming midday sun, his blue eyes shone brighter than the sky. “That’s not for you to take care of.”
I crossed my arms defiantly. “Then who will? Or is this town too full of outlaws for you to care about a little piece of jewelry?”
