Page 73 of The Isles of the Gods
Leander’s leaning in to talk to the attendant behind the counter—Audira, presumably—and it only takes a few words before their posture softens and they angle toward him in return, like he’s about to tell them a secret. And just a beat after that they’re both laughing, and he’s practically batting his lashes as he asks them a question.
Seriously, Leander? Of all the times, and all the places…
Then he has the nerve to turn and flash a grin at me, waving me over. “Can I have a dollar, please?”
I dig in my pocket for a single coin, march through the crowd, and shove it into his palm, then turn away. How can he be— It’s not fair that he and his effortless magic are what I want to rageagainst,but he and his crooked smile are the place I want to bring my complaints for comfort as well. It’s not even like he’ll say the right thing—he’s hopeless.
When he finishes his purchase and steps up beside me, I head back into the crowd without a word.
“I got you these,” he says, falling into step with me and holding out three brightly colored glass stones, green and blue and red gleaming up at me, the electric lights around us dancing across their rounded surfaces.
I pull my own hands in against my body, tucking them under my arms. “Put those away.”
“You’re a magician, Selly,” he says, only just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “You should always have something in your pocket.”
“For what?” I snap, warning him with a glance to let it go.
He doesn’t. “For when you need it,” he replies. “We triedonce, that’s all. I’m going to figure it out. We’ll figure it out together. Now, put them in your pocket and know they’re a promise.”
I can’t afford to stop in the middle of the night market and fight him on this, so I snatch them from his hand, curling them up out of sight in my fist. They’re warm from his touch.
“They said there have been protests out the front of the Alinorish embassy every day for the last week,” he tells me, switching topics now he’s got what he wants.
“What?” I blink across at him.
“Audira,” he says, jerking a thumb over one shoulder. “Who runs the magician’s stall.”
“Your new friend?” I mutter.
His face lights up. “Look at that scowl! You’re jealous!”
“I will shout your identity at the top of my lungs and leave you to the mercy of the crowd if you don’t shut up.”
“Well, I love that you’re possessive,” he replies, “and I’d hold your hand again if I wasn’t sure you’re willing to bite if provoked. But I was talking to them because magicians tend to talk across a city in a way others don’t—word often passes up and down the classes, between merchants and neighborhoods, in a way you don’t see anywhere else.”
My throat tightens as I absorb his words.Magicians talk.
I’ve been at those stalls all my life, picking up supplies for my own failed lessons or for Kyri, and never once have I been invited into that conversation. I didn’t even know it was happening.
Leander’s looking at me sidelong, pausing a beat. “You really thought I was just flirting, didn’t you?”
I’m quiet because I have to either admit he’s right or say nothing at all.
There’s a dark twist to his smile that I wish away as soon as I see it. “Well, in fairness, I’m usually exactly as terrible as other people assume,” he says.
“I’ve seen worse,” I mutter.
He lifts one brow. “Really?”
“Probably not.” I take his arm to guide him out of the way of an approaching wagon. “If there are protests outside the embassy, you can’t go anywhere near it, though. If you were recognizedthere…”
He grimaces his agreement. “It would be better if you went ahead and delivered a message.”
We make our way along to the clothes stalls, pushing past everything from secondhand books to thirdhand saucepans to a vat of frying dough that smells incredible but we can’t afford. Plenty of the stalls have little statues of Macean perched somewhere, just as they would a statue of Barrica in Kirkpool, or any of the other gods in their home countries.
They have little medallions of the Mother, too, and I reach out to tap one with my finger. “She shows up everywhere,” I murmur. “I guess she doesn’t pick sides between her children.”
“That’s what they say,” Leander agrees. “That all gods are present in the Temple of the Mother, and there they keep their peace, no matter what else is happening outside. I guess they’re just like everyone else—forced to behave at their parents’ table.”
