Graysen whirled around, but I couldn't see him through the waves of tears. I couldn't speak through the thickness choking my throat. He came to stand before me and I hurriedly brushed the wetness away and gazed upward into a cruel expression. He couldn't comfort me, but I saw the desperation and urge to do so in the depths of his eyes.

So he did what he could, he angled himself closer so no one could see that his hand brushed against mine. His warm fingers curled around my trembling ones and he gave a reassuring squeeze

"It's j-j-just..." I tried to say.

"I know," he murmured quietly.

I hiccuped, rubbing at my prickling nose with my free hand. "I've h-hardly ever b-been out by myself." Only once before, and that was with Graysen too. My family had rarely taken me to the city and I'd never been allowed to roam free.

People flowed all around us and I drank in the chatter of their conversation—Should we cook dinner or go out to eat?; I wish I could, I've got overtime to do tonight to get the damn accounts done for my boss; Watch out Milly, your shoelaces are untied!—and soaked up the thrill of anticipation from those about to enter the market with its electric energy sparking inside. My heart ached in misery, but it also was saturated in radiant joy to finally be part of life.

I used the ends of my scarf to dry my eyelashes and sucked in a deep breath. Straightening my spine, I collected myself and whispered to Graysen. "I'm okay." My skin tingled at the soft stroke of his thumb across the back of my hand, the tightening of his warm fingers around mine before he let go.

Graysen stepped away, keeping that cold, disinterested mask in place, but he kept flush at my side, and together we entered the market.

This was the day market, the counterpart to the Night Bazaar that was held down by the lakeside with its fire breathers and fireworks scoring across the black-felt sky. My pace slowed down as I stared upwards in awe. The pitched ceiling was hidden behind giant papier-mâché clouds. All kinds of birds hung below the fluffy clouds. An albatross with its gigantic wings glided above a sharp-eyed hawk chasing a swift flying swallow. And down below on the market floor were brightly striped tents pitched beside one another. A robin-red tent stood between one in jade and another cheery tent striped in duck egg blue. Some of the artisans were creating their wares while the market was underway, and patrons watched in admiration as clay was molded into the rudimentary shape of a vase on one of those old-fashioned pottery wheels, the pink-haired artist pumping the wooden pedals to make it spin faster.

I left Graysen behind to hurry down an avenue between a row of silky tents, my senses captivated by everything around me. A busker dressed in a mock-tattered suit with a crumpled top hat strolled by strumming a mandolin, and up further came the reedy sound of someone teasing out a melody with pan flutes, while street performers dressed as animals with macabre masks and exaggerated limbs strode by on stilts. Bones were tossed into the air as they juggled them to entertain a gaggle of giggling children.

The guards automatically spread out to monitor the throng of patrons, the artisans, and market performers, while keeping us in their sights. The drone of noise surrounding us provided a little privacy so that we could talk without them hearing.

I glanced about, rising up on my tippy toes and fiddling with the ends of the scarf. Savory and sweet smells colored the air. Flames caressed a blackened wok as vegetables, hissing and spitting, were tossed back and forth. The smell of freshly baked loaves drew my attention away from the small cluster of diners sitting on stools at battered wooden tables, to a bakery further along, and then my gaze was pulled to another tent where crepes were lovingly folded and drizzled with orange.

Where could the Purveyor of Rarities be?

Even though it was highly doubtful that the Hord Gods would be under the guise of heavy glamour and tucked into a stall like a mortal, it was best to start on that approach. I really wanted to wander around unhindered and just float about the market wherever I felt, but I marched off at a quick pace, my gaze sharply honed, my mind sectioning off the market into quadrants as I began my hunt. I had a Horned God to meet and hope like hells he had Zrenyth's mites amongst his wares.

Graysen's hand on my upper arm stopped me. "Not so fast."

My bell skirt swung wide and dashed against my thighs as I spun around to face him.

Graysen's eyebrows were slashed forward above glittering eyes darkened with irritation. His expression was carved in annoyance but his voice was gentle when he asked quietly, "When was the last time you were at a market?"

I frowned, cocking my head. He knew my truth. "Never."

"Exactly. So let's just enjoy this first visit."

I blinked, caught off guard.

"Take your time," he urged. "As far as anyone knows you're leading me on a wild goose chase. Look around and buy whatever you want, taste anything you desire."

My smile rose slowly like the sun. "Really?"

He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Excitement ran through my blood, beneath my skin, humming in my heart and making it rap faster, faster, faster. Graysen raised a hand to curl his fingertip into his chest, kneading the taut muscle as his heartbeat matched mine, and his eyes smiled back at me, even if he could not.

We spent the next hour drifting around the stalls. I got to indulge myself, while Graysen looked on with a fake bored expression. Curiously he bought several croissants from a flour-dusted baker and dropped them into the canvas bag with the roadkill stuffed inside, but mostly he dug out his wallet and paid for things for me to nibble on and items that had caught my eye like the mandarin and saffron-scented candles, a pretty shawl in dusky blue, and a wintry snow globe of the mountain that backed Ascendria. While we meandered through the rows of tents, we traded more questions. This time I wasn't bothered with finding out more about the Keep and a way to open up the wall that blocked the escape tunnel. This time I wanted to know what he was like. What were his favorite foods? The stupidest movie he'd ever watched and why? Favorite memories of growing up with his brothers and Ferne. And he volleyed questions of his own back.

As we strolled by, admiring an artist sweeping her paintbrush coated in deep orange over a canvas, I flicked a glance at him beneath my eyelashes as he adjusted the shopping bags in one hand, hoisting up the canvas bag's strap to sit more snuggly over his shoulder. Today had been nice and normal and real, almost as if we were on a casual day date. And that strange fluttering sensation gathered in my chest once more when I realized how he'd kept pace with me.

Not ahead.

Not behind.

But beside me.

A while later we came to a halt near the restrooms, standing beneath the boughs of a papier-mâché tree at the back of the market, watching a weaver work a loom with a rainbow of threads. Though I hadn't finished the pistachio-crusted toffee I was noisily chewing, my fingers were dipped into the bag of sweets already fishing around for a new treat. Graysen's mouth curled into a grimace as he turned around to face me, giving the bodyguards hovering nearby his back which blocked their view of us. He pointed a finger at my face. "You've got..."

"Huh?" I grinned, flashing my teeth, knowing exactly what he was trying to point out.

"Toffee. It's stuck right across your teeth like fucking concrete."

I sucked on my teeth with my tongue. "Mmmm yum." I offered him the bag of treats, jiggling it a little. His hair ruffled as he shook his head no and I huffed and rolled my eyes. "When are you going to give in to sugary crap? It's fucking delicious."

"I have on occasion." His nose wrinkled in distaste. "I just don't like those."

"Well good," I replied honestly and a little petulantly. "Some things like these deliciously-chocolatey-caramel sugary crap, I just don't like sharing."

It was admirable how hard he fought to hide his grin.

I thought now was the time to indulge myself with one question that had plagued me for a few nights as I stared up at my bedroom ceiling. "Why did your family step down from Great House?" I'd been feverish to learn the truth ever since he told me his family had relinquished the position.

Graysen glanced covertly around him, marking the bodyguards and their distance. He turned his attention back to me and raked his teeth across his bottom lip, hesitating for a moment. The humid air began to thicken with anticipation, and those dark eyes flecked like starlight were mesmerizing as they held mine. It was a single word that rolled sweetly off his tongue and it shook me to my core. "Love."

My fingers froze in the bag of toffees and chocolate-coated caramels and fudges swirled with fruit. For love?

His boots scraped on the ground as he shifted his stance to further hide me from his bodyguards. "My ancestor, Konrad, handed the mantle of Great House over to another family because he fell in love."

"Who with?" I asked in a rush of curiosity.

"Posey. She was a field hand."

"Posey?" I repeated. The name sounded so charming. Already I was imagining a sweet-faced young woman, her face dusted with a tan and heavily freckled from working beneath the sun. My eagerness to ask a million questions faded away when I realized the last part of his answer. I frowned. "Posey worked in the fields?" None of the upper ranks would ever deign such manual labor. Which meant she must have been a servant.

"She was a mortal."

It was a sharp slap of shock and the words whistled from my throat. "A mortal?"

He nodded.

My eyes grew wider.

That was the biggest no-no of them all. It wasn't uncommon for mortals to be brought into our fold when we needed to fill our ranks with more soldiers, but even so, the upper ranks never married a mortal.

"Sirro didn't give his blessing at their engagement."

My mouth rounded into a surprised O.

Not that I should be surprised.

"Without the Horned God's blessing, Konrad had no protection and security from the other Houses," Graysen continued. "It was Konrad's choice, the safer choice, to hand the mantle to another family. He knew none of the Houses would abide by a ruler who had married a mortal, nor would they give Posey the respect she deserved if she reigned as Matriarch."

It whispered from me. "You lost everything." The Crowthers had given up everything for a mortal. Given up everything for love. For someone who wasn't even part of our world of upper ranks and Houses.

And yet after losing Great House, the Crowthers had done it again, over a millennium later when Graysen's father had fallen for a servant and married her. But this time they held onto their position as a Lower House because Sirro had given his blessing to Tabitha and Varen.

Graysen dragged his fingers through his hair and the ends feathered free as he dropped his hand to a hip. "My family demoted themselves to an Upper House. And things were alright for a few years. But obviously," he added, his mouth thinning into a nasty line, "many Houses conspired behind their backs. Many Houses wanted a permanent removal. And in the dead of night, they retaliated. They overran the Keep, ransacked our treasure trove, killed all of our servants, and almost slaughtered Konrad's entire family too." He ducked his chin to stare briefly down at his feet, dragging the toe of his boot back and forth over the bare floor. "Well, they would have stolen everything and forced our family line into fucking extinction, but for Konrad and Posey's son. He killed them all."

My eyes flashed wide. "All of them?"

He raised his eyes and they heaved with avenged admiration. His voice went low and gritty. "Every single one that had inflicted the slaughter. The others had already fled with the trophies they'd stolen from the treasure trove."

"How old was he?"

"Eight years old. It was just Oskar and his blades battling in the middle of a howling storm until only he remained, knee-deep in muck and covered in filth and blood."

How could an eight-year-old boy not only survive but annihilate everyone there? Adults too and well versed in warfare. "Was he other?"

He shrugged, his fingers relaxing and then tightening their hold on the shopping bags. "There were no witnesses that survived his rampage. But maybe he was. Maybe he was a storm-weaver. Maybe he was something else altogether."

I shook my head trying to grasp the enormity of it all. "How did you win back your ancestral home?"

"Sirro stepped in. He locked off the Keep and gave Oskar the chance to rise through the ranks and win it back."

"So that's how you became a Lower House," I surmised.

He clicked his tongue. "No. Sirro stripped Oskar of everything. He became a nobody from no rank. One of the older, loyal Houses, that later fell to scheming, took him in as a foot soldier. Oskar vowed that night we'd take back what once belonged to us."

"I bet he did," I murmured. Then I shot him a sly look. "I'm willing to wager that those Houses that had conspired against your family strangely fell to their deaths." His white teeth flashed briefly within a vicious grin. I tsked him. "You're such a ruthless family."

He hitched a shoulder casually in agreeance. "It took quite a few generations from Oskar's offspring to prove ourselves worthy to Sirro and the Horned Gods, until eventually we achieved Lower House and retook our ancestral home, the Keep."

I sucked the last remnants of toffee from my teeth.

Absentmindedly my fingers rustled through the bag of candy. There was something else there too amongst everything he'd shared. Something that itched my mind until it bloomed and revealed itself. "Your treasury. You mentioned it a while back too, that things were stolen."

He raised an arm to brace his hand against the tree trunk above my head. "Yeah, they took what they wanted. Not everything. A few curses and poisons, rare gems and artifacts."

"And even a few of Draxxon's bones," I added, thoughtfully.

He nodded and the light poking between the papier-mâché leaves shifted over the black waves of his hair.

Why would anyone want wyrmbone? Maybe because they were rare and no one else but the Crowthers possessed them. Maybe for their qualities. Maybe they were wanted for something else more sinister.

An oversized gilded cage was hanging off a low-hanging branch beside us. Behind the golden bars, a clockwork Nightingale was perched on a rod and chirped intermittently. My feet were sore, my soul full of goodness, and my mind whirling with what I'd learned.

Graysen tensed.

And I did too with the abrupt change in his posture.

Suddenly he pushed off the tree, jerking his head around, his body following. His eyes narrowed and he moved in slow footsteps toward the entrance to the restrooms, raising a hand and trilling his fingers as if feeling a curling stream of air and trying to figure out which direction the wind was blowing. Except I had a suspicion that it was something else altogether.

Dark magic.

"Do you feel that?" he asked.

I checked myself, but I felt nothing. "No. What is it?"

"Something. A pull... It's coming from in there." He pointed to the corridor that led to the restrooms.