Page 50

“Come on, you guys. I have so much more to show you.” Erym ushers us around a corner and down a quiet street filled with little clumps of trees, each with its very own house inside it.
The Firmament’s suburbs? I wonder as she rushes us past. Or downtown condos?
“You came on the best day of the week,” she explains as we turn another corner, this time onto a street that’s got a lot more buzz going on as people move back and forth between shops, carrying bags of everything from bread to books. “It’s Market Day!”
“Market Day?” Eden asks as we wind our way down the lightly crowded street. “Do you mean like a farmers’ market?”
When Erym gives her a blank look, she clarifies, “A market where you can get fresh food?”
“It’s a market where you can get anything and everything,” Erym answers as she herds us around one more corner.
And as I look at the gorgeous, colorful melee spilling out in all directions in front of us, I can’t help but think that she’s right. This market has everything.
We’re obviously in the town square, or the closest thing to it that the Firmament has. Though a large, square-like area is outlined in redwoods, the whole center is completely clear. It’s the most land I’ve seen without trees since we arrived in this area several hours ago, and it’s filled to the brim with huge, colorful tents in shades of red, blue, and green.
Giants are wandering from tent to tent, large canvas bags in their hands as they scoop up one treasure or another. The air is redolent with the scents of fresh bread and beer and flowers, and it should be a nauseating combination, but it actually smells really good. Especially when you add the scent of buttered popcorn currently floating through the air and overlaying everything.
As we get closer, I can see inside the tents and what they’re selling—everything from the aforementioned flowers to bubble bath to shoes I could hide in to cupcakes the size of a giant’s fist (which in our world would simply be called triple-layer cakes). Artists and artisans are hawking their wares—paintings the size of my bedroom wall, gorgeous wooden furniture so tall that I can’t see the tops of some of it, necklaces that look like belts.
It’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever seen.
My parents and I used to wander through craft fairs and farmers’ markets all the time in San Diego, but none of them was this spectacular. And none of them had a party vibe like this one, with food that smells so amazing, my mouth is actually watering.
“Where do you want to start?” Macy asks, and she looks as excited as I feel.
But Hudson quickly jumps in. “Erym, do you know where I could find the Soli tree? I hear the blacksmiths there make the best jewelry.”
Erym claps her hands. “Oh, they do, although you better be sure you really love your girl before you buy something for her there.” She tosses me a wink. “The Soli tree lends immortal magic to its creations. Jewelry from this tree is the most sought-after in the whole world.”
I swallow the lump in my throat that forms at the word “immortal.” Would the tree’s immortality make the beast’s cuffs unbreakable? Hudson seems unfazed by this news and reaches down to hold my hand, tossing me a wicked grin before replying, “Oh, I think this one might be a keeper.”
The giant laughs and gives Hudson directions to the tree, which is at the other end of the market area. Hudson nods and catches Jaxon’s eye, some sort of silent communication passing between the two of them. They must reach an agreement, though, because Jaxon coughs and turns to Erym.
“I think perhaps we should split up,” Jaxon suggests. “It’ll help us get through more booths quicker.”
Erym squeals and says, “That’s a great idea!” She grabs on to Jaxon’s hand. “You come with me. We’ll meet the others back here in two hours.”
She doesn’t even wait to see if we agree with her suggestion, just starts hustling him toward the nearest tent. Jaxon, in the meantime, is throwing out every kind of help me vibe and expression he can, but I just smile and wave. Maybe we should be ashamed of ourselves—it’s obvious that Erym has a gigantic crush on him—but the truth is, the panic on his face is the most emotion I’ve seen from him in days. Negotiating her hero worship without hurting her feelings will be good for him.
The others must feel the same way, because they don’t make a move to help him, either. Except Macy who, when Jaxon gives us what can only be called a pleading expression, finally gives in. “I’ll go with them,” she says on a sigh. “Jaxon looks like he needs all the help he can get.”
“That’s the whole point,” Mekhi tells her with a grin, but she just rolls her eyes and heads after them, shouting for the lovebirds to “hold on.”
The rest of us divide up, too. Flint goes with Luca (of course), while Eden and Mekhi wander off to look at a display of giant weapons in a nearby tent. Which leaves Hudson and me.
“Shall we go find this Soli tree?” he asks, brows raised, when I just kind of stand on the grass staring at him instead of following the others.
My stomach flips a little at the British in his voice—I’ve learned that the heavier his accent, the more he’s feeling, even if his blue eyes don’t show any of it—and I have to clear my throat before answering, “Yeah, let’s go.”
For a second, I think Hudson is going to say something else, but in the end, he just nods and starts off in the direction Erym gave us. He doesn’t move to release my hand and neither do I, so I have no choice but to keep up with him. He’s leading and I don’t mind following this time, as it gives me a chance to take in all the sights and sounds and smells spilling from the different tents without having to pay attention to where we’re going.
I know we’re in the middle of a forest, but something about this place reminds me of the boardwalk back at home on Saturday afternoons. People in whatever clothes they feel comfortable in, spilling out of stores loaded down with food and packages, laughing and talking and having a great time. It’s colorful and beautiful and so fun that for a second, a jolt of homesickness rocks me to my core.
But then a little girl runs by in a flower crown, laughing as her parents chase after her, and the sadness passes as suddenly as it came.
I start looking inside all the tents and am so enthralled by one filled with beautiful leather belts and purses that I don’t even realize Hudson has stopped walking until I run right into him. His hand goes around my waist to keep me from stumbling as he grins down at me. “Hey, you.”
I blink. “Hey.” I’m actually a little surprised I managed to get that word out, since my body is trembling so hard, pressed up against his, my gaze drowning in his deep-blue one.
He raises one brow as if to ask what’s up, then adds, “We’re here.”
“Oh!” I push out of his arms as embarrassment swamps me and I glance around, looking everywhere but at him. He just laughs a little and presses a hand to the small of my back as he guides me to a giant redwood on the outskirts of the market, a huge wooden sign hanging from a branch that proudly proclaims: SOLI TREE.
When I Asked for
a Ring, I Just Meant
on the Phone
Hudson and I exchange a look as we push open the door and walk into a massive space. More than half the tree is a jewelry store filled with huge glassed cases with rows and rows of all different kinds of jewelry. Rings, bracelets, earrings, and yes, even cuffs.
The other half of the space is taken up by various giants working at tables, magical kilns running around the edges of the room. My heart is pounding at the thought that the blacksmith’s wife might be one of the giants working at a table right now.
“These are beautiful,” I tell the girl behind the first counter as I pause to investigate a display case of rings in human sizes.
“Thank you!” she answers, and though she’s a few years older than Erym—and probably even me—her smile is just as open and friendly. “I have fun making them.”
“I would, too,” I tell her as I linger over one that’s a flat silver band with delicate symbols etched all the way around. Something about the symbols feels like it’s calling to me, and I have to fight the urge to beg to try it on. “They’re amazing.”
Hudson is walking the aisles, too, but he’s more focused on the cases in the back with large bracelets and wrist cuffs. Most are too small to be made by the same blacksmith we’re seeking, but they’re certainly a good direction to start. “These are really cool,” he tells the jeweler, whose name tag identifies her as Olya. “Who makes these?”
“One of the women in town,” Olya answers. “She’s super talented and can do the most amazing things with any metal she touches.”