Page 26 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

“Come on, I’m starving .” Lily dragged her to the nearest booth, the smell of various meats wafting deliciously from it.

The stand had just about any meat one could think of. Thick legs from multiple types of birds, light and dark meat. A red cut that smelled absolutely divine as it bled on display. Whole smoked hog with skin crispy and golden twirled over a fire, and even countless types of stews bubbled and boiled.

After finishing their meal, the girls took to wandering, Akadian trailed behind making noises of disapproval at each shop they stopped at.

Citizens stared when they saw him. Struck with awe and fear, they moved out of his way whispering furiously, leaving the shops they chose to occupy rather empty in comparison to the rest. Ambrose did her best to avoid thinking about the prince as Lily browsed a set of breast plates she had particularly fallen in love with.

An armory with every type of gear one could need.

Breast plates with matching ankle and wrist cuffs in every color and material.

With styles so unique none were exactly the same.

Male or female it didn’t matter, the shop contained every type of armor an Eltorian warrior could ever need.

Lily had lost herself to the rows of options, trying on each set to see which ones she liked the best. Akadian sat on a stool at the back of the shop, watching with clear annoyance and boredom.

Even when he sulked like that he was terrifyingly beautiful.

Muscles flexing with each sigh, full lips turned down as he huffed in exasperation.

Ambrose caught herself staring again and instantly scolded herself.

She wasn’t thinking clearly when it came to the prince.

She walked out of the shop and away from Akadian, in hopes of some fresh air.

A small crowd had gathered around a man who was allowing patrons to hold a fairy dragon.

A beautiful creature with iridescent wings that shimmered blue, purple and pink.

Attached to a soft body with blue-purple scales.

The dragon couldn’t have been bigger than a house cat and didn’t seem to be enjoying the attention.

It screeched as it exchanged hands, thrashing against those who wrapped their arms around it.

Her heart twinged as the screeches carried to the depths of her.

“Please help it. I know you can,” she pleaded into her mind without knowing if there would be an answer.

As though made to carry her wish on it, a gust of wind shot through the street as a charge danced across her skin.

People scrambled to hold their caps, food, and the loose items in their arms as that wind pushed past them.

“My dragon!” the short, scrawny owner of the creature cried as the wind picked up its wings and propelled it up into the sky.

“Come back!” He flapped his arms ridiculously in the air, trying to catch the creature, but it beat its wings and carried itself higher than could be caught.

Ambrose watched it fly out of sight, the pull in her chest lightening as it flew.

“That was some nifty magick,” a street performer remarked, his eyes trained on her.

He dipped his chin at her in respect. He had a boyish face and eyes that sparkled like the ocean, with dark brown skin and long dark hair tied back into a braid under a hat made of soft red leather.

He sat on a stool while he tuned the strangest looking fiddle in his lap.

A golden lock held it together at the bottom as though it opened into something.

Ambrose didn’t have the slightest clue what it could be.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, eyeing the strange man.

“No?’ He tested the cords lightly. “I’m sure the creature appreciated it.”

“No.” She folded her arms.

“As you wish.” He tipped his hat to her and his fingers began to play it like a small guitar the most sorrowful and beautiful tune she’d ever heard.

Melodies blending together in an impossible way to create a dance between melancholy and joy that held her from every side.

He played with the skill of a master, but his music held none of the stiffness that the masters played for the king whenever he demanded.

None of the empty songs she was accustomed to hearing in the halls of the palace.

This song was every emotion one could feel in the most intoxicating blend of notes and spirit.

The musician finished his song and Ambrose was reminded of where she was.

Applause from the crowd she hadn’t noticed brought her back to the markets from a world made of only music and melody.

She realized she’d been crying and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“That was beautiful,” she told him earnestly after she regained her senses.

“Thank you. I’m not surprised one like you could appreciate that song.” He smiled gently at her. “It’s an ancient story lost to time.”

Ambrose’s cheeks flushed at his compliment. “Who are you?”

“Dorian Graves, ma’am.” He swept his arm into a dramatic bow.

“I’m not a ma’am.” Ambrose’s nose crinkled.

“No. I’m sure you’re not. You don’t look but to be a few years younger than me.” He looked her up and down.

“I’m sorry,” Ambrose gaped. “You don’t look that old.”

His eyes lit up once more as he tossed his head back and laughed. “That’s very kind of you.”

He was unlike anyone Ambrose had ever met.

Everything about him was so full of life.

He couldn’t have been from Eltoria, he didn’t act like anyone in the kingdom.

He was so much less… rigid. His grin spread from ear to ear and even his clothes were unlike the warrior fashion found in the kingdom.

He wore leather pants with a loose-fitting shirt that exposed the top of his chest where he wore a gold pendant shaped like the head of a dragon with an emerald for an eye.

“What was that song about?” she asked.

His smile grew sad and he winked at her. “A tale for another time.” Taking her hand in his, he kissed the back of it before vanishing from sight, her still raised hand the only evidence he’d been there at all.

She had enough practice with it to recognize a minor illusion when she saw one and as she looked around she was left there to wonder, who was that man?