As the Crow Falls | ✔

Chapter Six

The prickling attention of the market-goers returned the moment Isaiah was away from Verde's stall. Not that it had ever disappeared, but it was easier to ignore it in the coppersmith's warm presence. Isaiah had not felt this way since he'd first begun visiting the market in plainclothes nearly a decade prior, braced for the gawking of people used to seeing their royalty through the windows of gilded carriages. They'd adjusted rapidly then, learning to leave Pekea alone as she worked, to ask when he needed assistance, and to open up to conversation as he learned names and voices and listened to them in return.

That had shifted today. It was the whispers in the streets. The flirtatious tone in the voices of some of the women he spoke to about unrelated matters. There had always been some of those, but even with the disappearances weighing on their minds, some who'd gotten word of his new courtship plans had ramped up their bid for eligibility without a trace of shame. Others turned shy, still others, sympathetic. It was like being a stranger in his own realm all over again. And all that came just as fears of a beast or rogue Talak began to sink in their claws. Isaiah would have brought up the timing of the marriage announcement with his parents as profoundly poor planning, if only the two were separable.

He would have to field more courtship talk tonight. Only if he was lucky would he make it down to the archives to follow up on his most intriguing encounter of the day.

The streets of Calis emptied of their crowds as Isaiah walked. He could tell the exact stretch where the land finally rose high enough to stand above the Talakova's monstrous trees. A breeze sprang up from the direction of the forest, scented like summertime. Autumn pooled in the lowlands from the moment the late asters bloomed, like the scents of rich loam and fallen leaves carried more weight than those of warm grass and greenery. If Isaiah was being honest, he preferred the former. If nothing else, the walk from the palace to the Talakova's edge was a pain to anyone uninclined to ride in a carriage. He would have sledded the downhill distance in his teens when ice slicked the cobblestones each winter, but his parents had thought that unbecoming of a prince.

Sunset fell warm against his back by the time he reached the palace. The clink of the small, wrought-iron door to the left of the gate heralded his arrival. Isaiah returned the guard's greeting with a weary smile. Inside the palace walls, the breeze died. The damp coolness and heavy scent of dew settled over the meadow-lawns on this side of the grounds. Crickets chirped in muffled abundance. Pekea relaxed her stance on Isaiah's shoulder. Her sniffing made a small huffing sound that never got less cute no matter how many times he heard it, and she snapped at evening bugs that hummed by. Isaiah tucked his cane under his arm and flexed the hand that had held it. He knew his way around the palace, and the gardeners knew to keep the garden paths clear. Walking was easier from here.

For not the first time, Isaiah wished he could soak up the peace of the meadow-lawns and carry it with him into the palace. Such a reserve of energy might get him through the evening. He slowed his steps ever further until he reached the front door. No guards stood here. He hauled it open on his own.

Bustling footsteps preceded his mother's exclamation.

"Oh, there you are, love! We've been waiting for you. It's almost dinnertime."

Her voice was syrupy enough to give a person cavities. Isaiah tensed as she trotted right up to him and engulfed him in a hug. He returned it stiffly. It went on for too long. As soon as his mother released him, he stepped back.

"What kept you?" she fussed, catching his arm before he could retreat any further. Isaiah had to fight every reflex not to yank away. "Your father and I have been talking about you all evening. We were starting to worry."

"Talk in the town," said Isaiah. Just before dinner was not the time to broach the topic of compensations. "I was assuaging fears about the last disappearance. I'm sorry for being late."