Page 44 of Of Masks and Fury

I turned away from the names that would haunt me. “I was reading the announcement.”

His eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to me. Assessing. Wondering if I’d give him something to report to my father.

I gave him nothing but a serene smile.

We continued through the market. More notices appeared on posts and walls, each one a reminder of the clock ticking down. Eleven days. Less than two weeks to find a way to save them all.

The lower part of the village spread ahead of us, buildings growing shabbier as we walked farther from the castle. Here, the cobblestones gave way to packed dirt. The merchant stalls were simpler, selling vegetables and basic goods on flat platforms.

But the people remained the same. Watching. Suspicious. Careful.

I stopped at a stall run by a woman who’d sold my mother herbs before she died. Her table stood near a cluster of others, including a cobbler mending boots, a baker stacking loaves, and an elderly woman arranging candles. They all turned guarded eyes toward me.

“Your Highness.” The herb woman’s curtsy came stiff, her lined face neutral. “How may I serve you?”

“I wanted to ask how you’ve been.” I gestured to the neat rows of basil and moonwort, the bundles of feathermyst tied with twine, their peppery scent reminding me of childhood teas. “Everything looks wonderful.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Her hands twisted in her apron. “I’m fine. We do our best.”

The guards stood close enough to hear every word. The woman kept glancing at them, her shoulders stiff with tension.

How could I establish any kind of trust or connection with my father’s men watching every interaction? But I had to try. Had to let these people see that I cared, even if I couldn’t yet explain how I planned to help them.

“I remember my mother buying from you,” I said. “She said you had the finest herbs in the city.”

Surprise flickered across her face.

“Your mother was a gracious lady.” Her voice was gentle. “I was sorry when she passed.”

“As was I.” The words caught in my throat.

The baker nodded, murmuring about knowing me since I was a child. The cobbler mentioned his grandson taken to the reformatory a year ago, and the candle seller remembered me as a girl. Each conversation felt like walking on broken glass. One misstep, and my father’s guards would report my suspicious behavior.

A guard cleared his throat sharply. “Your Highness, we should keep moving. The day grows late.”

I ignored him, purchasing a bundle of herbs and a candle, thanking them. But I saw the way people watched Trew, sending curious glances at the new bodyguard. I could read the questions in their eyes.

The guards watched everything. Noted every person I spoke to. They listened in on every word exchanged. They practically counted each coin that passed from my hand to another’s.

By the time we reached the far edge of the market, my face ached from maintaining my pleasant princess expression.

A cloaked woman rushed through the marketplace from my right, bumping into me.

“Sorry,” she mumbled and kept going.

I caught a glimpse of tight braids woven into an intricate arrangement on her head before she tugged the hood of her cloak higher.

Lexie.

Trew had also recognized her. His gaze followed my friend until she’d ducked into a tea shop on the edge of the market.

“Your Highness,” Trew said. “Perhaps you should rest before we continue. There’s a tea shop nearby.” He gestured toward it. “Would you like to sit and have a cup?”

One of the guards frowned. “That wasn’t part of the planned route.”

“There is no planned route and the princess is tired.” Trew’s gaze remained on the guard. “Surely her comfort takes precedence over whatever path you want her to take through the market.”

The guard’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t argue without admitting he was here to spy on me, not provide protection.