Wait, why was he freaking out?
“Are you jealous?” I asked. Micah frowned and looked at the ground. “You are!”
“I am nothing of the sort!” he snapped.
“Of course not.” I took his hands in mine and stepped close so I was looking up into his eyes. “Micah, you have nothing to be jealous of. I would never be unfaithful to you.”
“My Sara, I do not doubt you,” he murmured. “Still, I cannot help that it heats my blood when a man looks upon my consort with lust in his heart.”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me that way.”
“Many do. Remember, I myself am quite well-versed in looking upon you in that way.” I laughed again, but he silenced me with a quick kiss. “If that man comes looking for you again, I will glamour you.”
That was fine with me. “Can you make me taller? And blonde?”
“Perhaps I’ll make you appear as a copper frog,” he countered.
“Ribbit.” I hopped, but it was more like a bunny than a frog. Micah nipped my ear, and we resumed walking.
“It is not as if you have never felt jealousy,” Micah said.
“When was this?” I asked. The only women I ever saw him with were Mom and Sadie. Well, and the Bright Lady, but that was different.
“When you first saw the shapeshifters in the village,” he replied. “And when Oriana touched my mark.”
At least the shapeshifters had kept their distance. “Anyone touches your mark again, I’m breaking their fingers, queen or not.”
Micah wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Me either. Remembering my failed attempt at buying supplies for my newly-chosen hobby the other day, I pulled Micah toward the jeweler’s stall.
“The jewelry booth is right around this bend,” I explained, when Micah asked where we were off to. I grabbed his hands and walked backward, telling him all about my favorite merchant. “She’s so nice, and she has the best, shiniest stones, and—”
Micah stopped abruptly and pulled me against his chest. His mouth was a slash across his face, his eyes hard. I peeked over my shoulder and saw charred cardboard walls and a wooden counter that had been smashed to bits. I could see a few bits of metal glinting in the debris; this must have happened recently, being that the scavengers hadn’t yet picked over the remains.
“Is that—”
“Yes.” I said quickly. I didn’t want him to say it out loud; somehow, saying it would make it too real. Far more real than the evidence scattered before me.
“Let’s find your brother,” Micah murmured. I nodded, numb, and we made my way across the market to the newsstand. We found Max engaged in a lively debate with an older lady about tomato sauce, of all things. As if Max had ever cooked anything in his life.
“I think rosemary’s too harsh for a fresh sauce,” Max was saying. “It’s like chewing on a pine branch. Hey, sis.” Max’s brow furrowed at my rattled state, but I shook my head. “Me and Vincenza here are talking lasagna.”
After we’d performed the requisite introductions, I learned that Vincenza sold ribbons, both new and gently used, and that her stall was not too far from the jeweler’s. When I asked her how the fire had happened, I’d hoped she would say that it had been a freak accident with a soldering iron. Much to my dismay, Vincenza shook her head.
“She would have been lucky if that’s all it had been. Rana was never one to think before she did anything.”
Rana. Huh. So that was her name. “So, the fire was her fault?” I ventured.
“Oh, it was her fault, all right,” Vincenza said. “She was caught fraternizing with enemies of the state.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Elementals, you know.”
My stomach dropped to the ground like a safe let go from the top floor of a skyscraper. Luckily, Vincenza assumed that our mingled looks of horror were due to Rana’s questionable choice in friends. “Oh, a drone even recorded it,” she continued. “Here, I’ll show you what they did with her.”
Like lambs to the slaughter, the three of us followed Vincenza. I, naïvely, assumed that the Peacekeepers had posted a writ detailing Rana’s crimes, or that she herself was suspended in a cage for the lawful folks to throw rotten cabbages at. When we reached the center of the market, I cried out in shock, clutching at Micah’s shirt for support.
Rana’s head was impaled on a pike set atop a raised platform, her gummy eyes staring out over the stalls, both as a warning and a promise of the price of defiance. Beneath her head was a video screen, playing my interaction with Rana on an endless loop, followed by head shots of me, Max, Sadie, and even Mom.