Tully
The next day, I ease the shelf on my market cart open and smile at the bright blue of the cold winter sky. The sun paints wisps of clouds the shade of a summer peach. Yesterday’s snow lines the roofs of Leafshire Cove and blankets the trees’ branches. Very nice.
“Well done, World,” I say to the sky.
I set out my sparkling vials and use my magic to arrange the little brooms I ordered from the birch besom down the way from my house. He did a fine job. I draw a looping shape in the air above the brooms and push my will into them so they’ll fly two or three feet from the ground when asked. Brooms don’t require a full potion to fly like creatures do. They enjoy it.
“Oh,” a voice says behind me, “you have youngling brooms. How sweet.” It’s Betilda, a middle-aged orc who always knows the best gossip.
“Morning. Yes, I’m all sugar and syrup over here.”
The middle-aged orc female laughs in her raspy way. “You’ll make good money from those, no doubt. Some of the parents in this town live to spoil their wee ones.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “They’re my favorite type of customer.”
Betilda’s expression turns secretive and she leans close to me, her ample cleavage pressing into my arm. I force back a laugh. I do love the gal despite how over the top she is in general. She’s fun.
“Did you see the newcomer yesterday?” she asks.
I feel my smile melt. I know exactly which newcomer she is referring to. My witch intuition can almost see the image she’s created in her mind’s eye of the minotaur. Annoyingly, she isn’t imagining him nearly as handsome as he actually is. Ugh.
She presses a hand to her chest. “I stayed indoors with my new lover, but I heard he is magnificent.”
“I saw him. But even though he’s easy on the eyes, he’s a scam artist.”
She pulls away a fraction and gapes. “Truly?”
“Aye. His magic is a trick. He has no witch blood. I would have smelled it. He does these ridiculous illusions and?—”
She clasps her hands together under her chin, her eyes dancing. “The unicorn! I heard how lovely it was.”
“It’s not right, Betilda. I am fine with Rom using his stone magic, of course, that’s natural. And Grumlin only dolls up the food and drink with his inborn power as a wizard. But that minotaur? He’s unnatural. Dark. I’m telling you, we have to get rid of him as quickly as possible.”
She looks around the market and all the folks putting up stalls and carts. “Hmm. Yes. I suppose you’re right. Did your intuition tell you he is a bad sort?”
I hold my breath. I want to say it did, but that would be a lie. My intuition was quiet about him, like it was trying to figure him out. “Not yet. But I’m sure I’ll have a powerful feeling about his dark spirit if he has the stones to show up again.”
“Did you give him a talking to?” Her lips lift at one side and she raises an eyebrow.
I elbow her and roll my eyes. “I did, but it wasn’t fun, Betilda. Seriously, be wary if you see him again. Warn everyone you know.”
“Oh, I will, dear.”
The entire town will know to give the minotaur a wide berth from this moment on. Betilda doesn’t waste time in spreading news.
She saunters off toward the perfumery, waving a hand heavy with cheap copper rings. “Not to worry!”
Kaya is setting up her stall beside me, laying out her lovely cinnamon scones, frosted cinnamon rolls, and a few cottage loaves. I give her a nod and she grins back.
Then the minotaur stalks down the road, pushing his cart of lies. I growl quietly and my head is suddenly pounding. He lifts a hand, greeting Lord Mayor Rustion, who appears to be on his bi-weekly shopping trip. Rustion is a good old fellow, a lion shifter who is always kind to everyone. Maybe too kind.
Setting up his goods, the minotaur glances my way and smiles. Infuriating.
“I thought we understood one another!”
He’s chosen a place beyond Kaya’s stall, so thankfully he’s farther away, but it’ll never be far enough to suit me.
Kaya glances from him to me, a question in her eyes. She has a wrap on her left hand—probably from rock climbing with Renen, her brother. She hates climbing, but she won’t tell him. I ease over to her stall where a line is forming and the scents of butter and cinnamon swirl through the air.
