Page 109 of Of Shadows and Blood

“Where are we going?” I ask, pausing us at the door. A few guards nod at their king and go to fetch a coach. A servant approaches with fur coats in hand.

“I have some business in Veda. And I was thinking of showing you some of the things the city has to offer. Does that sound most agreeable?” He can’t hide the coyness in his voice, so I groan before slipping my arms into the plush sleeves of the coat.

“Very agreeable, my king,” I reply quickly. A wisp of shadow flicks my nose and before I can react, the carriage pulls up.

Control, Cedric.

You make it impossible.

The footman holds my hand as I step in, Cedric close behind.

Don’t traumatize the footmen. His presence is all encompassing.

It would be their honor.

Cocky. I swish my ass slightly and step into the carriage.

He pats my backside as I crawl into the warmed cabin. We both share a glass of blood as we take the short journey into the city. A separate carriage of guards leads us and one follows behind.

The bridge comes into view, its silver-tipped guard posts shining under the afternoon sun. It looks starkly different than when I first entered the city.

“Veda is a sprawling, unhinged metropolis where any need can be purchased. Regardless of the item, condition, or age, you can certainly find a shop to satisfy. The city guards do a pretty standard job of monitoring crime but generally, it is a peaceful community,” he says from beside me.

The carriage slows as a crowd forms on either side of the main street. People cheer and hold their children up so that they may see our arrival. My stomach twists at the thought of war and what it will bring to their livelihoods.

“They’re happy to see us,” I marvel, smiling despite my worry. A few women clap and wave at me directly and I raise my gloved hand to wave back.

“There is no better feeling as a ruler. Our people trust in us and that trust is the social contract that keeps our seats in check. Before, Lux was different. I do believe we’ve made a slight impact,” he explains, waving himself before cracking the window and signaling our stop.

A footman opens the door and offers his hand to help me out. The crowd is tight but not overwhelming.

“It’s Lady Elivienne!”

“Is she feeling better?”

“Take Duresden down!”

“Kiss my baby!”

The citizens cry out for us and I make good to acknowledge them as we pass through. The guards trail behind silently, though their presence feels unnecessary. But it’s the show that matters. We head down the main street as various vendors rush out of their storefronts.

“This historic street was the original center of Veda many, many years ago.” Cedric points to a rickety sign barely hanging on.

Most of the shops here seem to have experienced a smooth change of ownership through the centuries, which I think is beautiful. Antiquated does not describe the appeal of something old being here for this long.

An artisan steps out from her shop and immediately presents me with a golden necklace with a hawk on it, Veda’s symbol. My hand pauses to examine the artistry. “For Lady Elivienne.” She bows. “Thank you so very much,” I reply, clasping it behind my neck. Another vendor crosses the cobbled street and hands us a small basket with goodies from her candy shop. We both thank her and pass it to the guard behind us.

A clothing store comes into view, the pink sign new and crisp with lettering. My feet do not move fast enough. The small store is packed with all kinds of fabrics, some that shift color in the light, others that look nearly invisible. It smells of leather and cotton and incense. The magic in here thrums, speaking to my own.

The guards try to file in but they bump shoulders and knock over a small rack. They’re entirely too big to fit in here.

“Gentlemen, you may return to the carriage. We’ll take it from here. Wait by the bridge,” Cedric orders as I sift through some yellow gowns. The color is royal, near marigold, and I make a mental note to request this fabric during my next fitting with my ladies.

“Do you need to try anything on? Perhaps the yellow dress?” He points back at the rack I abandoned.

“Hmm, perhaps.” I snatch the gown from the rack. The owner, a woman with copper hair enters from a backroom, navigating the complex piles of clothing strewn about.

“Oh, Your Majesty!” She immediately drops into a curtsy, her cess beads clinking and hair fanning her dark brown skin.