Page 32 of Fierce Highland Magic

The vendor three stalls down shifted behind her display of singing knives. A woman in a feathered mask paused mid-step, then moved on with studied disinterest.

No one was looking at Nessa directly.

Everyone was looking at Nessa sideways.

"You traded something," I said.

It wasn't a question. The market had taught me that much in the hours since midnight: everything here cost something, and the people who moved through it carried their prices in their posture, their hands, the particular quality of light in their eyes.

Nessa's eyes held no light at all.

"I did," she agreed. "Everyone does, eventually."

"What did you trade?"

"My courage."

She said it the way I might say I traded my umbrella or my second-best scarf. A transaction. Completed. Filed.

"Your courage."

"To make the fear stop." Nessa's smile widened slightly. "It worked."

Something cold moved through my chest.

"It worked," I repeated.

"Oh, yes. I was so afraid, before. All the time. Afraid of the stalls, afraid of the bells, afraid of what might happen if I stayed too long. Afraid of everything. It was exhausting." She paused, considering. "Now I'm not afraid of anything. It's much better."

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

My breath went shallow.

"You can't be afraid," I said carefully. "Because you traded the thing that lets you feel fear."

"That's right."

"And now you can't—" I stopped. Recalculated. "Can you get it back?"

"Get what back?"

"Your courage."

Nessa blinked at me. The expression was patient, faintly puzzled, like a teacher explaining arithmetic to a particularly slow student.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because—" The words caught. "Because you're stuck here. Because the market is dangerous. Because without courage, you can't—"

"I can't want things," Nessa agreed. "Not really. Wanting takes courage, you know. The courage to reach for something you might not get. The courage to hope." She shrugged. "I don't have that anymore. It's very peaceful."

My shoulders tightened.

Peaceful.

She called it peaceful.

"You can't want the courage back," I said slowly, "because wanting takes the very thing you sold."