Page 29 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

She looked at their hands in the water together. Hers were tan from walking in the sun, and strong from bakery work.

Blackthorn’s hands were long-fingered and pale. Though they were so much larger than hers that they almost looked like different creatures, there was a fine-boned delicacy to his that had to be due to his lineage.

She dried her hands quickly and packed a few loaves of brown bread into her rucksack.

He watched her, his eyes alive with interest, though she couldn’t imagine why.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded, and they stepped outside together.

It was a perfect fall afternoon. The sun had taken the edge out of the air, making it feel crisp but not cold. The trees around the square were just beginning to blush pink and orange at the tips. In another week, they would be practically aflame.

The town sweep had removed most of the day’s unpleasantness from the cobblestones.

Though it might be plain compared with Swordbrake’s side, Lockwood was nice today, and Farrow was secretly glad she didn’t have so much to be ashamed of in front of her new friend.

“It’s better now,” he said suddenly, as if reading her mind. “I didn’t like it when we rode in, but it’s really not so bad.”

“Thanks,” she said with a wry smile. “High praise from a baker’s boy.”

“Baker’s second boy,” he teased, arching an eyebrow at her.

She couldn’t hold in her laugh and the sound of it almost startled her. Had she really gone so long without a good laugh?

“So where do we go for sugar?” he asked, not giving her time to question her feelings. “That’s the dry grocer’s, right?”

“It is,” she agreed. “But I don’t go there for good sugar. There’s a smaller place, run by a farmer. It’s just at the end of the square.”

“Why go further for the same ingredient?” Blackthorn asked.

She glanced over at him, but his expression was genuinely curious.

“The sugar from the dry grocer’s is shipped in from other parts of Fairweather,” she told him. “You don’t know what you’re getting, the quality has a minimum level and it’s sweet. But it’s not special.”

“I see,” Blackthorn said.

“But the farmer from Lockwood has a perfect cane field,” she told him. “It’s down in the valley where the temperatures are higher. It’s an open field with sun from dawn ’til dusk. And the sugar is the most beautiful, deep brown with a sweetness that is smooth and silky.”

“It sounds delicious,” Blackthorn said, licking his lips in a way that made her forget all about baking. “Well worth the walk.”

She nodded, pleased that he was being cooperative. He seemed to have a curious streak in him a mile wide.

Maybe he’s just being polite.

“It’s expensive,” she warned him, as they walked on. “So, you’ll see me negotiating. We don’t have much coin, so try not to get in the way.”

He chuckled.

“What?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” he said. “I’ll be sure we don’t leave without the sugar.”

They passed the silk merchant, who waved a beautiful green scarf at Farrow.

“Baker’s daughter,” the man called to her warmly. “It matches your eyes. Three coppers.”

She smiled and shook her head.

---