Page 56 of Royal Captive
Calten shrugged. “We go to the market. Surely you have markets back in your realm.”
I tamped down the urge to pinch him. “But how do you pay?” I pressed, my teeth grinding together.
“Pay? Oh, you mean gold and jewels? Only the fae trade those among themselves. We don’t have a use for them,” Calten finished.
I pinched my brow. What was so difficult to understand? “Today. We are here getting clothes.”
Calten nodded slowly as if I were the one who didn’t understand. As if finally remembering why we were all here, Marcell’s wife made a little ‘oh’ noise and rushed off, pulling clothes into her arms in an order that only made sense to her.
“What will these merchants get for the clothing?” I asked, voice straining.
“Lord Vlaylon is our patron,” Marcell offered warily as if I were the crazy one.
Stay calm.
“And what does a patron do?” I managed.
“The patrons ensure the workers have everything they need,” Calten cut in. “Here, Lord Vlaylon ensures they bring only thebest fabrics for their use. Marcell and his wife are the best tailors we have, so they are in charge of the shop.”
“And who makes the fabrics?” I challenged.
Calten sighed heavily. “Other workers who are not as skilled with fabrics, but wish to improve their craft. Enough. You must try on clothes.”
His hand on my lower back pushed gently forward toward a partitioned off curtain, where Marcell’s wife waited with a mountain of clothes. I stopped short. I think I’d rather be back in the Royal Hunt.
“Eve …” Calten groaned.
“So there is no money here? No currency?” I asked point blank.
Calten glared at me.
I glared back.
He glared some more, and Marcell’s wife coughed uncomfortably. I picked up one of the lightweight, gauzy dresses, raising an eyebrow.
Calten’s lips pursed.
“No currency. What need would we have for it? If we need clothes, we come here. If we are hungry, we see the baker or the butcher, or the gardeners. We have healers. We have school teachers for the children to discover their talents for future fae patrons.Try on the gown.”
I let Marcell’s wife guide me behind the curtain and disrobe me, my mind spinning.
No money!It was insane. But it also meant that if there was no money, no one could be poor. Technically. So even though they were slaves, every need seemed cared for. The fae ensured the humans living here got fed, clothed, educated.…
What kind of world did I come from if we were all free men but sick and starving for want of basic necessities? How could these literal slaves who were told exactly what to do in life—be happier and healthier than my kingdom or any of the others from our realm?
“That’s all well and good, but it only works in theory, and as long as those in power don’t abuse it.”
The shopkeeper had nothing to say to that.
“Stand still. I need to pin this,” his wife said instead.
I glanced down. She looked much more threatening with dozens of sharp needles sticking out of her mouth, and a look of fierce concentration in her eyes.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jeni,” she huffed or at least that’s what it sounded like.
She tugged the fabric sharply around my hips, then glared at me when I moved a step forward with the momentum of the movement.
