Their surroundings had grown livelier as the afternoon waned. Laughter and chatter mingled with the scent of different fragrances and spices.
Circe found herself slowly beginning to admire the intricate glasswork at one stall while Nieah conversed good-naturedly with a vendor over the price of silk ribbons. Ragnar followed closely by her side, his attention split between the crowd and the two women, his presence steady and unobtrusive.
They had just begun to move toward another row of stalls when something small darted into their path.
Circe halted abruptly, nearly colliding with Ragnar's shoulder.
A small human girl, no more than six or seven, stood before them. Her hair was a tumble of curls, her dress simple but neatly mended.
In her small hand, she held a single flower — a vibrant pink bloom with soft, velvety petals that looked far too delicate for her tiny fingers.
