Page 40 of The Sunbound Princess
The merchant put her hands on her hips. “You need to pay for that!”
“Already did,” Nikolas called as he guided me away. When I glanced over my shoulder, the woman frowned at a coin on the cart’s small counter.
“Helios is just fine,” Nikolas murmured, drawing my attention back to him. When we were a safe distance from the cart, he paused and tucked the flower behind my ear under my hood. He tugged the fabric carefully back into place, his fingers grazing my cheek. “You created him, right?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice husky in my ears.
Nikolas smiled. “That means he’s made of the same stuff as you.” He dropped his hand, but he stayed close, his boots brushing the hem of my skirt. “And you’re made of pretty tough stuff, Ezabell Kasreneth.”
Awareness tingled through me. My throat went dry, and it wasn’t from the dust. Dain joined us, a dubious expression on his face as he gazed at his orange.
“This doesn’t look very filling,” he muttered.
Nikolas gave him one of his lazy grins. “I know, big guy. But you’re in luck. I think I spotted someone selling kebabs across the square.”
We moved through the market, sampling various dishes and delicacies. Chunks of savory meat stacked on skewers. Hot pastries sticky with honey. Flatbread that melted in my mouth. Nikolas navigated the marketplace with easy confidence, drawing admiring glances as he purchased food and drink. Women cast him looks from under their lashes. More than a few men looked, too, appreciation evident in their gazes.
He appeared oblivious to the attention, his smile falling on me again and again as we moved from the market into the main part of the city.
“That’s the Library of the Serpent’s Tongue,” he said, pointing to a large building with a golden dome. “Supposedly named for a queen’s pet snake, but most people believe she named it after her lover.”
Dain gave me a look. “That’s a delicate way of putting it.”
I stared at the dome, which glittered in the sun. “What’s the less delicate way?”
Leaning close, Nikolas spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “The queen’s lover had certain talents with his tongue.”
My face flamed. “Oh.”
Nikolas chuckled, the sound rich and warm. He continued our tour, offering interesting and often humorous tales to goalong with the collection of temples, gardens, and the occasional statue.
“That’s Myros,” he said, pointing out the marble likeness of a nude man rising from the center of a fountain. “A favorite god among thieves.”
“Why?” I asked, studying the statue’s smooth muscle. Myros held a sword in one hand. He clutched a bunch of arrows in the other. The god’s physique was impressive, but he was still smaller than Dain.
Everywhere.
Nikolas smiled. “Legend says Myros stole fire from the sun and gave it to the people of Saldu. He’s the patron of resourcefulness and audacity. Two qualities I can’t help but admire.”
“And possess in abundance,” Dain murmured.
Nikolas pointed out a long, square building supported by a row of fat pillars. The stones were a garish red almost too bright to look at. “That’s the Rust Market, where smugglers sell spices from across the Iron Sea.”
“And the Crown lets them do it?” I asked.
Dain gave a dry laugh. “The Crown takes a percentage of the profits.”
The men led me through parts of the city most visitors never saw. Crumbling but beautiful temples tucked into narrow passageways. Quiet gardens filled with flowering trees. Nikolas kept up his commentary, peppering history lessons with salacious tidbits that made me laugh.
Dain rolled his eyes, but he didn’t quite manage to hide his smile.
By midday, renewed hunger drove us to a street vendor frying bits of dough in a massive pot of oil.
“Best dumplings in Saldu,” Nikolas said, handing me a bowl.
“What’s in it?” I asked.
Dain snatched a dumpling and popped it in his mouth.
