If someone had told me this morning that my afternoon would involve escorting the Demon Queen to buy carrots, I would've assumed they'd inhaled too much drakroot steam.
Yet here we were.
The market swallowed us whole the moment we stepped in color and noise and smells hitting all at once.
Stalls lined both sides of the street, stacked high with everything from mundane cabbages to bioluminescent peppers that glowed like angry fireflies.
Vendors shouted prices, charms fizzled in the air, something in the distance shrieked like a dying kettle.
Normally, I loved this place.
Today, the silence between me and Seraphine was louder than all of it.
We walked side by side through the crowd. No guards. No entourage. Just me, my knife case, and the most dangerous woman in the underworld in a fitted black jacket and boots that probably cost more than my entire kitchen.
The crowd parted around her without realizing why.
