“I’m sorry if he hurt your feelings.”
“I’d have to care in order to be hurt, and I haven’t cared about anything other than myself in many years.” Rowan’s expression smoothed, and his hand tightened around mine. “Well. Maybe not so much anymore.”
The plink in my chest from earlier ricocheted throughout the rest of my body. There was so much more to Rowan than I thought. He was multifaceted. Mysterious. I couldn’t wait topeel back his layers and see the parts of himself he hid from the world.
If he let me.
For now, we walked through the festival, our hands clasped and my gaze bouncing around at all the sights.
The atmosphere was magical, with its soft lights, music, and festive decorations. Several people wore outfits reminiscent of a Japanese kimono, some simple in design while others looked to be made of silk with elaborate stitching and stood out with vibrant colors. Other people looked like they’d stepped out of a medieval renaissance movie, wearing tunics and corseted gowns. This world was like a melting pot of the cultures I knew from my old one.
“Why did we go through the woods to get here?”
“It was a shortcut,” Rowan answered. “I also liked how you clung on to me while walking through it. You’re such an anxious little speck of gold, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, well, dark forests and I don’t exactly have the best history. Evil thorn bushes. Crow demons. That nasty and slimy worm thing.”
“Nasty, slimy worm thing?” One brow lifted, matching the edge of his mouth. “You’ll hurt your captain’s feelings. Every man’s built different. He can’t help it.”
“Oh mygod, Rowan.” I swatted at him again.
His responding chuckle sent a rush of warmth through my veins. It felt nice being with him like this. My hand in his felt nice too.
“Evening, gentlemen!” a man called from a nearby stall. He had a beaked nose and featherlike sandy-brown hair that shimmered beneath the glowing lanterns. A demi-bird of some sort. Falcon, maybe? “My name’s Flit. Can I interest you in some of my wares?”
“Nope,” Rowan said.
I nudged his ribs. “Don’t be rude.”
He smirked.
“What are you selling?” I stepped closer to the stall. My eyes instantly went to the books, but there were also tiny vials of glowing liquid, gemstones, and jars holding different assortments of herbs.
“Items from my apothecary shop,” Flit answered. “These are my most popular.”
Apothecary. It made me think of Briar. He could spend hours in one of those shops, admiring plants and trinkets and flipping through the books on herbology and alchemy, his hazel eyes alight with interest. I missed him so damn much.
“Ah.” Flit nodded. “I see you’ve spotted the rare grimoire.”
My hand rested on top of a dark green book. “Grimoire?”
“Yes, yes.” Flit leaned in closer. “Rare and filled with powerful spells. I’m willing to part with it for the very reasonable price of—”
“Not interested,” Rowan said.
I gave him another jab to the ribs and offered Flit a smile. “Forgive him. He doesn’t get out much. Um. So what are these?” I motioned to the vials.
“Energizing elixirs to battle the fatigue of everyday life, ones that clear the mind and give clarity, and—” Flit winked at me. “—even potions to bless one’s love life.”
“I assure you he needs no help with that. He has his own harem,” Rowan said, then jerked away before I could elbow him again. The butthole.
I thanked Flit for his time, then dragged Rowan away from the stall before he spouted off more nonsense.
“Have to confess,” he said. “I like you manhandling me. You can yank me a little harder though. I like it rough.”
I stumbled in step, which sent him into a laughing fit. This carefree and playful side of Rowan was different. Unexpected—much like the entire evening had been so far.
Also unexpected? The sudden familiarity of the festival. Among the glowing paper lanterns, there were red and green ribbons strung from post to post, green wreaths decorated with red bows, and an evergreen tree in the center of the square decorated with wooden ornaments, berries, and colorful blown-glass orbs that radiated soft white light.
