Page 14 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

A small street pulled off the main road, covered from the worst of the Tanmer sun and the Ergreen rains by colourful silks hanging between the rooftops.

I might have dismissed it for its size, if not for the sheer volume of traffic entering it.

I followed the hum of footfall, and soon the market street pulled into full view.

I spied the food first, my lunch of hard bread and cheese sitting unhappily in my stomach knowing the delights that awaited me.

Sweet honeyed dates filled a papered box, powdered squares in every colour and scent wafted from trays, fresh herbs sprouted from pots and dried ones hung from the stall rafters.

Men, women, and children filled any space left, themselves as colourful as the wares.

My first thought was that it was a blessing the Thread had given me no coin, for I would have spent it all on the pastries heaped in molasses at the first stall. My second thought was that I could run.

A thrill shot through me. Thread Ersimmon had left me here alone. I was out of his control and out of the range of Eavenfold. He had given me nothing to run with, but I had a head start.

The thought sobered quickly. Where would I go, alone, with no money to speak of?

Could I find someone who hailed from the Touchlands and promise them something to return me home?

I knew nothing of how my parents lived now, if they still lived in that small shepherd’s hut by Torquan or if they’d moved back to Andiz like father had wanted.

As I ruminated on the nature of my entrapment, I trailed through the market, stopping occasionally to take in the scent of a bouquet, or take a closer look at a caged bird. Soon, I’d have to ask for directions, but for now I enjoyed being a woman with no purpose.

Could I convince Seth to run with me? Him, the nephew of the king. I could still barely fathom it. He would not run; for one, he had his Service to complete, and more than that, even if he chose to, they would track him down. He was someone of importance, he couldn’t disappear like I could.

What would I be, then? A bound woman, locked to a Fate I was choosing to ignore.

A Fate which would Break if the victor was to die.

Would it Break if he wed another? A Moontouched ghost girl, with no power, and no prospects.

What freedom could I seek to gain with nothing to recommend me, and less than, to be an outcast, a stranger to my own home?

It was then that I realised the stares.

I’d noticed a few, of course, from the stall vendors. I’d tried to dismiss them, figuring they were just hoping for a sale. My clothing and hair were unusual, certainly, but I hadn’t realised quite how out of place I was until a man before me stopped dead in his tracks.

He stared straight at me. Or rather, at my hair. “Myrgh’s grace. You’re one of them,” he said. “Silver blood.”

I gave him my best attempt at a smile and tried to move past him. Myrgh the Teacher, the Scentlands’ Founder, was the quietest of the Five, and I could only hope his countryman would follow in those dainty footsteps and keep his voice down.

He didn’t move. “But you’re a girl.”

“Excuse me,” I said, and pushed past him. But his remark had already stopped the others around him, and nearly a dozen people now stared at me. I tried to smile despite my racing heart. “Sorry,” I said, moving through the group as I pulled my hood back up.

I weaved through the surprised throngs of shoppers, and a couple of people protested as I fumbled along. I’d forgotten how much of a freak I was. White-haired and white-eyed, I’d never fit in here. I scoffed at my own stupidity: I’d never fit in anywhere .

I can’t believe I thought I could ever run away. One glance and they’d ship me off back to Eavenfold with a prayer to their Founder. One less oddity to deal with.

At the end of the market street, the tangle of goods disappeared as the walkway widened out and then ended, and I found myself on a clean and beautiful promenade.

Before me, a wondrous view: the edge of the Oktorok Lake, the site of the great victory of the Five.

The white wall, with pots containing all manner of flowers, pinned the vista as the overcast sky deepened the colour of the water to a deep grey-blue. Beyond, small boats dotted like sheep.

Across the water, the Isle de Courvin waited. A large and lush island, only a few minutes away by boat.

“Wine, miss?”

I turned to find a purveyor idling before his cart. His hair was thin and greying, and his vest was a lurid shade of orange. The cart was open at the back beside a sleeping, ancient-looking pony; I spied a small keg and a few dusty bottles.

“No, thank you,” I said, looking away from him as I checked around to make sure no one else had noticed me.

“I have the finest vintages,” he replied without feeling. “I am sure I can find something to your taste.”

I met his eyes, only for a second, and his greying brows shot halfway up his forehead. “Thank you, but I have no need for wine. Could you tell me where to find Medrilla?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, like a flapping fish I’d once seen back in my village. “Your eyes.”

I grimaced, and touched my cloak to pull it further down.

He shook his head. “Please, miss. I meant no offence. I’ve never seen a Brother in person. Or a sister, as it may be.”

“Sorry to frighten you.”

“You don’t,” he replied, moving forwards to stand right before me. “Please, let me show you my wares, moon sister.”

“I have no coin, sir.”

He shook his head even more vigorously than before. “No charge. For you, no charge.”

How interesting. He must have heard some grand tales of the Brotherhood to be so generous with me. I stepped forwards, and he nodded encouragingly, scrambling back towards his cart .

I picked up the nearest small clay cup with a waiting sample. “Where do you get your wine?”

He climbed into the cart and pulled something from the very back. “From everywhere,” he said. “From the Cavelot merle and franc to the Vintarrun ciante, even to the dusted lands of Essadir to acquire the vrodaphne. I have travelled to the edges of each known land and brought back only the finest.”

I flinched at the mention of Essadir. The city in the south of the Twin Lands was only a day or two’s ride from my village. I knew this man only spoke of its grapes, but it was so rare to hear of my homeland that it made me oddly nervous.

“Even the Cloven?” I knew little of wine, but I knew the Cloven to be an unfriendly climate for crop growth, even less friendly to merchants.

“Of course,” he said without pause. “Everywhere, miss.”

It was some tactic, I was certain. Some way of adding to his worldliness.

The merchant jumped back from his cart. He pointed to the cup in my hand and shook his head once more, tutting. “Not that one, that’s swill. Watered-down blended Vin de Scent.”

I chuckled uncomfortably, scraping a fingernail against the rough clay. “It is your stock, is it not?”

He shrugged. “It is for the punters who come for the free wine. You are not that, moon sister.”

I smiled, looking at the green bottle in his hand, stoppered with a waxed cork. “Which is that one, then?”

His eyes flashed. “A one-of-a-kind vintage. This is wine fit for your splendour.”

“You have much experience with the Brotherhood?”

“Little,” he said, pulling the cork off. He grabbed the cup from me, his bare hand brushing my own as he dashed the old wine to the dusty floor and poured a cup of the new wine into it. He looked up, and his face changed .

I had taken two steps back.

“Miss?” he asked.

I glanced behind me. “I think I have changed my mind.”

He smiled, but it looked different. More sour. “You would turn down my gift to you, moon sister? It is only a drink.”

I touched my stomach and faked a queasy grimace, which was probably made more convincing by my fear. “I am feeling ill from my travels here. I think a drink would be unwise.”

He shook his head again and stepped towards me with the wine in hand. “Not so, wine is great to settle a stomach.”

But I had felt it in his touch. There was something amiss here. His mind was riddled with guilt, deceit, and ill will. Whatever he intended, be it to swindle or harm, I wanted no part of it.

I pulled my lips into something resembling a smile. “I appreciate your kind offer, sir. But if you wish to offer me help, could you instead point me towards Medrilla?”

“Let’s have a drink first. Then I will happily lead you to your purpose.”

I looked to my right, seeing a clear path down the promenade as I prepared to run.

Before I had moved another muscle, a man dressed entirely in white leapt forwards from my left. I hadn’t seen him approach, but then he was ahead, standing between the merchant and me.

His shoulders were wide, his hair medium-length and light brown, and his stance confident. What more I might have been able to gauge from staring at his back was lost, however, for I was so stunned by the impeccable brightness of his white clothing that all other characteristics fell short.

The merchant’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, placing the bottle on the cart behind him.

“The lady said no.” The blindingly clothed man pulled a narrow sword from the scabbard at his hip and held it before him .

I took another step back, watching with a thumping heart, my hand over my mouth.

The merchant raised his hands, the poured cup still sloshing in one hand. “I meant nothing by it, your lordship. I was only offering the moon sister a taste of a rare dessert wine.”

“I heard your offer, and its response,” he said. “Pass me the cup.”

The wine seller shook his head. “This is no good for you, your lordship. It’s a sweet one. A woman’s taste.”

The lord in white raised the sword to the merchant’s sun-wrinkled neck. “I will not ask again.”

He gulped, holding the cup out. “Take it, take it.”