Thread of Gold

Ch. 20: grim's market

Anna smiled sweetly. "Don't you have feet to kiss?"

His mouth tightened. "You piece of—"

"Alright." Camille held up a hand. "Enough. All the other carriages are being used; people are leaving after..." She swallowed. "After what happened last night. And I need to go to Grim's Market. Please, Tristan; it's just for the day."

"Fine," he grunted.

They piled into the carriage. Tristan sat on the opposite bench, interlacing his hands. They were really very nice hands, Anna thought, with long, slender fingers. Perfect for stealing things. Or, in Tristan's case, playing the piano; she'd heard him shuffling around the music room a few times. It was a shame that such lovely hands were attached to such a disagreeable person.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you buying at Grim's Market, anyway?"

Camille smiled serenely. "Hair pins."

"Let me guess," Anna said, turning to Tristan. "You're trying to buy a personality."

His hands tightened. "I'm buying explosives."

"Explosives?"

"Yes," Tristan said. "I like them."

"Because that's not concerning at all," Anna muttered. There was a sudden scuffle, and she leapt back as a ball of white fur exploded from Tristan's feet, leaping onto his lap. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, there you are, you stupid cat."

Tristan stroked Shambles. "He's not stupid."

"He tried to jump off a roof today," said Anna.

"Maybe he wanted to get away from you."

Anna huffed. "Maybe he's an idiot."

"Maybe you're an idiot."

"Maybe—"

"Maybe," Camille cut in, "it's best if we travel in silence."

Tristan glared at Anna. Anna glared at Tristan.

"Fine," Tristan muttered. "But if she insults my cat again, then I'm throwing her out of the carriage. No matter what."

Grim's Market was busy this evening.

Sunset seeped off silk canopies, dripping down shoulders and fingers in burnt orange and gold. Cigar smoke hung in the air, mixing with fragrant spice and cooked nuts. Cheerful vendors shouted out prices of dragon scale and singing clocks, their voices rising over the bright strains of a fiddle. It looked like a fairytale, Anna thought. A bright, false fairytale.

Anna examined a curved fang. She could just make out where Camille stood, a few stands down; Camille had asked Anna which vendor knew the most about rare magical objects and then tore off in that direction.

Tristan had buggered off, too.

She frowned. Good riddance.

Anna set down the fang, consulting her watch. Any minute now. She picked up an anti-freckle potion, turning it over to check the price.

"I got your raven," a voice said. "Did you get the map?"

Anna didn't look up. She could see a bit of green cloak — not Sophie's favourite one, but that had probably been deliberate. Anna set the potion down.

"Not yet," she said.

"What's the hold-up?" Sophie asked.

"It's in a chest. A locked chest, in Ryne Delafort's bedroom." Anna picked up a red jewel. "And I've only just figured out where the key is."