Page 10 of Changeling
Damn him. He’s just as handsome in this form as the other more majestic creature I met earlier. His anger hasn’t wavered in the slightest.
If I want to eat tonight, I’d better get out of here before he orders me back to my room. We burst into motion at nearly the same time—me toward the exit and him toward me. To the surprise of no one, he’s faster.
“What are you doing out here?” he whisper-shouts. “Our agreement was that you’d keep out of sight.”
“That’s not what Ivaz said. He said to lie low, which was a lot easier before you stopped me in the middle of a crowd.”
Guests turn their heads toward us and our hushed but not-so-subtle argument.
A low growl emanates from Dominus’s throat. “Get back to your room.”
I go from irritated to angry in a heartbeat. “Am I to starve beneath your roof, then? Was that part of the agreement too?”
A bit of the fire leaks from his expression, but he still presents a wall of flesh between me and leaving. “I’ll have something brought to you.”
“No. I’ll not be locked in a room for two weeks. Let me by. I’m perfectly capable of finding my own dinner.”
His nostrils flair. Our standoff persists. The tension between us ripples my magic and his, like our two energies are testing each other, even as our wills battle for dominance.
If I cave in to his orders tonight, it means two weeks alone with my dismal thoughts and nagging memories. I’ll go mad. I have to get out of here.
Panic must show in my face because he relents with a huff, stepping aside. “Fine. Go. But don’t expect any help from me if you get into trouble.”
“I want dinner, not trouble.” I hurry past him through the arched exit and into the next lobby, which also hosts a crowd of people, both customers and workers. The feeling of Dominus’s eyes on me lingers, though I refuse to look back.
This group is more evenly divided between men and women. The Peach and Pearl must cater to both. I’d like a better look but continue so as not to give Dominus any reason to scold me.
From this side, the exit looks like an overly large wooden door. I stretch my hand, but it swings open. Howdoesthe magic work? As I pass through to the wine cellar, it closes with a quiet click.
Leonas nods from his stool. “Evening, Sebastian.”
“Good evening.” For some reason, I find the petite man intimidating, but he’s the only person I can ask for directions, so I muster up my courage and approach.
His odd, burnt-yellow eyes flick toward mine, making me feel like cornered prey, though he’s barely moved. He wears a form-fitting black shirt and pants with black boots polished to a shine.
I clear my throat. “I’m new to the city,” I say somewhat stupidly, as if he doesn’t know. But I’m flustered after my confrontation with Dominus, so I blame that. “And I’m hungry. Would you perhaps suggest a place along with how to get there?”
He crosses one shapely leg over the other and leans forward, forearms on his thighs. “What do you like?”
“Everything, really. I’m not a picky eater.”
“I am.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I prefer meat. There’s a street cart with roasted lamb on a stick not far from here. Will that do?”
“Lamb sounds delicious.” I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me, or if maybe he’s just hungry also.
Leonas gives me directions that sound simple enough to follow, and I set off up the stairs, glad to be outside for a while.
Warm evening air hits my cheeks, and the breeze ruffles my hair. Gratefully, I suck in a deep breath. I hadn’t realized how overly scented and still the air was below ground until leaving it behind.
The little alley street where The Twig and Berries resides is empty, but as I turn down a side street, then a main road, I see other people going about their business. I could pretend to be one of them. A normal person running errands before dinner, doing the shopping, coming home from a long day at the forge perhaps. That’s been my life until recently, and yet it seems a lifetime away.
I find the market easily enough. Colorful banners hang from shop windows advertising their wares. Voices mingle in conversations around me. The scents of spiced vegetables, roasted meats, and sweet cinnamon breads mix as they waft to my nose. If I was hungry before, I’m starving now.
The cart selling strips of lamb on a stick stands out among the crowd with its bright red paint and sky-blue awning. I wait in a short line behind a man who emits the salty odor of a hard day’s labor and fish. I’ll bet he works down by the river. I’d like to see the water before I leave Pest.
That’s it. I’ll have to try to adjust my sleep schedule from vampire hours back to normal hours so I can tour this city properly. There might never be another chance. I’d like to go fishing, head across the floating bridge, and stroll through Buda, maybe see the castle. I won’t waste this time while it’s mine to spare. With Ivaz’s coin in my pocket and two weeks on my own, I refuse to dwell on my sorrows when a city waits to be explored.
My resolve is tested immediately upon discovering the language barrier between myself and the hurried street vendor. It isn’t that I expect Hungarians to speak Greek; it’s that I’ve been spoiled by my multilingual vampire tour guide so thoroughly that I forgot this would be a problem. Until now.
