Isiilde was studying a jar of dragon egg fragments at an apothecary when she heard Zianna's voice. She cringed. How could she have missed the curvaceous apprentice who was stuffed into a satin dress of periwinkle blue? The edges of her bodice were trimmed with intricate lace, which put her bosom on full display.
Zianna's master, Taal Greysparrow, wore a matching waistcoat and breeches that were snuggly tailored to his chiseled form. When it came to choosing an apprentice, Taal had a penchant for beauty over skill. Every apprentice he'd trained in the last two hundred years ended up sharing his bed—not that the women seemed to mind.
Isiilde muttered an oath under her breath and stood on her toes, searching for Marsais in the busy shop. She spotted his tattered grey cloak in the crowd, where he was conversing with an ill-mannered shopkeeper. She started towards him, but someone chose that inopportune time to open a jar of grave ash. A fit of sneezing overtook her, accompanied by three bursts of flame puffing from her ears.
"Isiilde," Zianna said, loudly. "Why, if it isn't everyone's favorite nymph." Every pair of eyes locked on the redhead. "We've all missed you this past week." Zianna detached herself from Taal's arm, leaning in to kiss the air over Isiilde's cheeks.
"You have?" she asked, wanting more than anything to believe the woman.
"Of course. Lectures are so dull when you're not around. It's been quiet without you—almost peaceful."
Most of the onlookers had moved on, but a few eyes lingered on the faerie.
"You're looking lovely today, Isiilde," Taal said, greeting her with a bow, which she returned with a bobbing curtsy.
"What was that assistant telling us about faeries?" Zianna inquired, ever so sweetly.
Taal seemed hesitant to answer, so his apprentice answered for him. "See that jar of Wisp wings over there? It fetches a small fortune. Anything from a faerie is particularly potent in a potion. Your race is highly sought after as a resource for potion ingredients. I wonder what an entire nymph would fetch?"
Zianna wrapped an arm around Isiilde's shoulders, and turned her towards the counter, catching the assistant's eye. "Tell me, what potions are being made out of nymphs?"
Isiilde jerked away from the woman.
"A single strand of hair makes a powerful love potion." The tattooed Xaionian fixed a hungry gaze on the nymph, studying her exposed features with the same fascination that people reserved for oddities at a performance.
"Really, a love potion? How quaint," Zianna purred.
"There's nothing trivial about it, m'lady. A single strand of her hair would fetch ten crown and if she be a virgin, then a hundred."
Isiilde paled at his words.
"Of course you're a virgin. Aren't you, dear? Or Oenghus' head would be on a pike." Zianna laughed at her own observation. "You could start selling yourself a piece at a time, Isiilde. I think that's splendid news, don't you, Taal?"
Isiilde swallowed down a lump in her throat. Taal frowned, and then his eyes widened when a vagabond stepped beside Isiilde. It took a long moment for Zianna to recognize him.
Isiilde wiped away a tear that had escaped.
"Please don't let me interrupt your conversation."
"I wouldn't dream of wasting your time with trivial matters, Archlord." Zianna offered Marsais a hand and a curtsy. The angle put her attributes fully on display for his perusal.
Marsais stared at her hand as if it were Blighted. Without missing a beat, she straightened and offered a charming smile.
"I wasn't aware you were back, Archlord. You look like you just got off the boat," Taal said, diffusing the awkward moment.
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Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)
Fantasy✴︎Featured on Wattpad✴︎ Born into slavery, bound by Fate, and forbidden to love. One faerie will do anything to be free. It's not easy being a child of chaos. Disaster follows Isiilde wherever she goes, but that's the least of her problems-she's a f...
Chapter 7
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