“Yes. I must,” I mused. “Have you brought me back to this light-forsaken part of the castle to murder me in the shadows where no one will hear my screams?”
“Well, the screaming was the part that ruined my plan when I sent my henchwoman to kill you the other night,” he teased.
I stifled a laugh. Partially because I was still aggravated with him for not giving up his feelings for a murderer. Partially because laughing really, really hurt.
When we reached the end of the corridor, Evander opened the door to a narrow staircase. This time, I was ready when he hoisted me up and carried me down. To my surprise, the stairway led outside.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
Evander pushed me down a pebbled path that led to the castle’s south entrance, where a guard nodded and opened the iron gates for us. When he lead me through, I realized that this portion of the gate lead straight into the art district of town.
“I always saw the walls when I visited here, but it never occurred to me how close you lived to the city all this time,” I said.
“It’s an ancient city. The rulers of old benefitted from keeping it under such strict observation.”
My chair bumped and vibrated as we wended our way through the streets, shooting needles of pain through my abdomen. But I tried to ignore it. If Evander noticed I was hurting, he might try to turn back, and I was thrilled to be back in town. In my favorite part of town, of all places.
The art district looked as it sounded. Most of the artists who lived here worked and set up shop out of their own cottages, which were all decorated according to each artist’s particular style. Soria, the vendor who sold decorative plant arrangements, had a cottage that seemed almost overgrown with vines and flowers, though overgrown in the most flattering sense of the word. I often wondered if she had spent years teasing each vine into the perfect shape to decorate the face of her home.
Moran, who sold brass wind chimes, had a home that burst to life with music with every gentle breeze. Then there were the houses owned by the painters, each face boasting a mural, some of colorful Alondrian sunsets, others of epic battle scenes often including dragons—which were always said to be extinct by some and thriving in caves by others.
But Evander didn’t take me to any of these. Instead, we stopped by a small cottage at the edge of the district that I had never noticed. Most likely because it appeared abandoned.
“You ready?”
“Ready? For what?” I asked, trying not to sound too disappointed that he hadn’t taken me to any of my favorite shops.
He flashed me a grin that informed that me he was proud of himself and I should be concerned, then flung the door open.
He wheeled me in.
I gasped in horror, though judging by the grin spreading across Evander’s face, he’d clearly interpreted it as indicating pleasure.
It was a storefront. One lined with tables and shelves. And on the tables and shelves sat the most beautiful pieces of glasswork that I had ever seen. Far finer than I had accomplished in my years of working in my shop. There were plates perched upon golden stands that sparkled in the light of the suspended candles from the ceiling. The intricacy of the designs I could pick out even from a distance. On one shelf was a beautiful array of glass figurines. Fire-breathing dragons that looked as though they were living and had simply been cursed to abide in glass form. A human woman, her forehead wrinkles caught in a laugh. A fae male whose ears appeared to twitch, though it could have been a trick of the light. Even the glass chandeliers above had been crafted with far more intricacy than my current skill level could have mastered.
In the back of the store was a large window, painted with a mural of the Adreean Sea. As the light danced through the glass, the waves rippled with delight, providing the illusion of tumbling waves.
And on the center counter was a pair of glass slippers, much like mine except that a floral design had been etched into the glass so that when the candlelight shone on them, a symbol of a daisy sparkled silver and gold on the adjacent wall.
“Do you like it?”
My heart sank. Recoiled. Shriveled. Whatever.
I swallowed, but the burning lump in my throat remained. My eyes stung, and I rubbed them, hoping Evander would think I was tired and not notice me crying.
This too, Evander misinterpreted. At the sign of my tears, he beamed.
“I knew you would like it,” he said. “I had Father’s master craftsman start working on it the morning after your…umm…accident.”
Accident. The word flared within me. “They did all this in a week?”
He beamed. “Like I said, they’re the best in the land. They were so thrilled to do it, too. Something about the artistic beauty of being able to create something extraordinary from such a plain substance. Apparently, working with crystal and fine gems wasn’t doing it for them anymore.” He rolled his eyes.
Something inside my chest had gone numb. “I would like to go back to my room now.”
Evander’s grin faltered as confusion swept over his expression. But then he cleared his throat and straightened. “Of course; it was a long walk from the castle. I’m sure you’re exhausted from sitting upright for so long.”
As he wheeled me out of the house and locked the door, he took the brass key and placed it in my palm, closing my fingers around it. “It’s yours. I thought you could run it once you get better. Only if you want to, of course.”
I opened my palm and stared at the key. “Thank you.” The words came out flat, lifeless.
Evander opened his mouth, his enthusiasm fading with the daylight as the sun slipped behind a cloud. “You don’t like it.”
The lump in my throat grew, and I felt as though it might cut through my skin at any moment. “Thank you. I would like to go back to my room now.”
He frowned but returned to pushing me. After we had cleared the art district and were halfway up the path to the castle walls, he spoke. “Clearly, I’ve offended you. But I can’t seem to figure out why.”
I couldn’t bring myself to answer. He halted my chair halfway up the hill.
“I thought you would like it. I wanted you to know I was listening to you that night we had dinner, and you told me that it was your dream to own a shop that sold beautiful glassware.”
My heart went numb at the explanation. The one that took my dream and diluted it and made it sound so, so bland. “You weren’t listening at all.”
He rounded my chair to face me, holding onto the wheels from the front to make sure I didn’t roll right back down the hill as he kneeled in front of me.
That would be the perfect cap to my week, at the rate it was going.
