Ariyan never realized how much the wooded region’s style differed from that of Port Town until he took in city’s fashion. The colors here were light and airy; pastel pinks, blues, and yellows. The women wore long, sheer flowing dresses, and the men wore long shirts over their form fitting pants, along with embellished jerkins and open sandals. It just looked strange to Ariyan. Then again, this was the south.

In Gaitland, both men and women wore robes all year round. Heavy cotton, lined with cable knit wool or cashmere in the winter, and lighter linen like the one Ariyan wore for the summer months. Lord Erik and his men, when they did wear clothes, wore cotton, leather and fur. Coarse, but practical for their homeland.

Anatoly led him through a multitude of shops, many of which sold food, (sweet cakes, shaved ice, and fried pork) but some sold trinkets, with crystal mirrors, steel combs and beautiful jewels. Ariyan couldn’t take it in fast enough. He’d always begged to come to the Port Town with Austin, and his father would always refuse. As a consolation, they would always buy Ariyan souvenirs. It seemed silly to him now as he roamed the streets of the harbor. He was in the place he’d always wanted to visit, but he wished he was back in safe, sweet, provincial Gaitland. He wished he was home.

“Ariyan,” Anatoly waved him over. “Come look.” The older man pointed to the glimmering necklaces, bangles and rings sitting in their cases.

“This one reminds me of your ring.” He pointed to Ariyan’s grandfather’s ring, shining on his thumb. It was too big for him to wear on his ring finger. His great-grandfather was an alpha. A man almost as big as Utgar. Powerfully strong and honorable. He was so unlike Ariyan’s father that it was a wonder the same blood ran through Aaron’s veins. 

Ariyan nodded in answer to Anatoly. He browsed the different shop wares until he came upon a case, littered with bejeweled daggers. His eyes landed on one in the far-right corner, a pendant dagger, attached to a silver link chain with a black scaled handle. He picked up the necklace and slid the thick chain through his delicate fingers. Now this was something worth buying. A weapon concealed. A dagger disguised as a beautiful necklace on his neck.

Ariyan peered back toward Anatoly. He was laughing and chattering with a clerk behind the counter. Ariyan had some money in a coin purse hidden in his robe, but it wasn't nearly enough for the necklace. There was no way the old man would buy it for him. Once they told the healer what the necklace was, he would hastily refuse Ariyan’s request.

Therefore…Ariyan decided not to ask. He slipped the necklace into the front compartment of his robe. As he removed his hand, a woman came up on his right side and stepped beside him. Ariyan jumped before he held his chest, laughing lightly.

“Oh, apologies,” the woman said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” Ariyan shook his head. “I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. I was just…” He stared down at the daggers. “Entranced I suppose.”

"Ahh yes.” The woman nodded before she picked up a gold dagger encrusted with red and green crystals. “These daggers came from Mesan, the capital city of Karmaria." The woman was older, at least fifty, with graying sideburns and a warm scent that smelled of oak wood. She picked up the dagger Ariyan had eyed. The green and red seemed to sparkle in her blue eyes.

"It is said that the gems they use in Mesan are forged in the bowels of the smoking mountain." She handed the handle to Ariyan. Just as he was about to take it, Anatoly touched his back lightly.

"Ariyan," the elderly man said. "It is time for us to go." Ariyan inclined his head toward the woman to thank her before he turned and moved out of the shop.

They walked through the overcrowded streets with Halvor trailing behind them.

"When I was younger, things weren't nearly so expensive.” Anatoly went into a full rant, and Ariyan listened idly, his eyes peering over every inch of the market he could consume at once. 

'Certified love potion. Guaranteed to get the wolf of your eye out of your dreams and into your arms.'

Ariyan had to chuckle at the tawdry advertisement.

As far as he was concerned there was no such thing as love. And even if there was, no potion could warm a man like Erik's heart.

Ariyan's heart ceased in his chest as a warm blush spread through his face. Why had he thought of Erik? 

Ariyan hastily abandoned the potions and walked further along the strip, still staying within reach of Anatoly and the conspicuous guard that followed behind them. No doubt concerned for Anatoly's safety, rather than his own.

As Ariyan continued down the path he heard a man’s crooning voice.

“Winter wealth, fated glory. Who wants to know their dismal story? One card, is all you need, unless your fortune be filled with greed.”

He was dressed in a warm sepia robe, along with a gold turban wrapped around his head. Ariyan continued to walk, until the man hopped out the shadows and pointed directly at him, a wide smirk on his face.

“You, fair one,” the man said. “Would you like to know your fortune? Two silver sickles gets you a card reading.”

Ariyan shook his head, but the man spoke once more, “you’re a long way home from home…” he said quietly. “And a long way from what it is that you seek.”

Ariyan turned toward the man and stared at him blankly. He knew of men who pretended to be able to see the future, but Austin always said that the only ones who could tell a man’s future was the gods.

‘And good luck talking to them…’ His brother would often say.

“Do you presume to know my fortune?” Ariyan asked quietly.

“I don’t presume to know anything.” The man chuckled. “My talents are as arbitrary as the weather.” The fortune teller looked up at the blue sky now steadily graying.

“Then why should I bother with you?” Ariyan turned to walk away.

“A man’s motive is a fickle thing, young one. You stole that pendant in your breast pocket, because you thought it might be useful in the future.... who can tell what’s to come?”

Ariyan stopped. He turned back to face the teller and narrowed his gaze. If this man had seen him steal the pendant would he tell the shop keepers? Surely Anatoly had the money to pay for it, but being outed as a thief wasn’t exactly ideal.

“The question is, fair one, will you be able to execute your will to obtain what you desire?” He raised his dark brow. “Or will your desire have changed by then…will your mate’s desire have changed by then…”

A chill climbed up his back at the cryptic riddle. Of course, it was obvious Ariyan had a mate. The mark on his neck was still fresh. He was alone, which was considerably odd for a young newly claimed omega, but hardly a mystery.

“What do you want?” Ariyan asked coldly.

“Want?” The fortune teller tilted his head. “I only want to help you achieve you seek,” he said.

“What do you know of what it is I seek?” Ariyan asked, raising his blond brow skeptically.

The fortune teller entwined his fingertips, the smile on his lips growing gradually wider.

“You seek what all men seek…” the fortune teller said. “Answers.” He turned to step away into a shadowy backstreet.

Ariyan cut his gaze toward the guard dog Erik had sent with them. He was currently being flirted with by a top-heavy maiden who was clearly more than an apothecary.

Ariyan followed the man into the darkness, staying as close as he could as he walked between the empty wine barrels and market debris. Several drunkards were asleep along the walls. The man stepped into a hidden door waving Ariyan in and closing it behind him.

The room was alight with a number of candles on a small wooden desk. There were bottles half filled with vibrant blue, blood red, and murky brown liquids. Ariyan shuddered as he eyed the chair across from the one behind weathered desk.

“Sit,” the man said. The chair screeched against battered floors as he sat across from the man. He placed his white palms on the hardwood table, swallowing pass the knot of fear.

“Are you afraid?”

Ariyan shook his head slowly.

“Good. There’s no need to be.” He smiled. “I’ll have the payment before we began,” he told Ariyan as he pulled out a deck of cards. Ariyan slid his hand into the pocket of his robe, and gave the man his last two silver coins.

“Shuffle the deck,” the man said. He lit several more candles, and one incense that burned the scent of opium.

After he shuffled the deck of cards, he handed them back to the fortune teller. “Five cards will reveal all it is that you wish to know.”

“Will the cards tell my future?” Ariyan asked, watching as the man sipped from a grimy looking mug. Ariyan couldn’t see what was inside, but it smelled like a putrid ale.

The man didn't answer. Instead, he tapped the top of the first card, turning it over slowly. Ariyan stared at the card through his watering eyes. A woman with a crown atop her head, holding a golden staff.

“The queen…she represents love, prosperity and fertility,” the man said quietly.

“Fertility?” Ariyan whispered.

“You are newly mated…” the man said. “Surely an omega as fair as you understands the rut of an alpha.”

Ariyan didn’t reply. He had prayed to the gods to spare him that burden. He had prayed that pregnancy would not befall upon him so soon. However, according to this man, it was right on the horizon.

The man pulled the next card. It was a naked woman with hair covering her breast, and a leaf covering her genitals.

“Young and naïve, the maiden represents innocence, hope and loyal friendship. She embodies purity and emotional longing. Your relationship with your mate is new and undefined at the moment. Heed the advice of a close and trusted friend as your relationship blossoms, young one.”

Ariyan pressed his lips together. Perhaps that was about Anatoly. The old man had been desperately trying to persuade him into spending more time with Erik ever since they were contained to the same tent. Still, Ariyan had no desire to speak with Erik, let alone get to know him.

He flipped a third card.

“A shield?” It had the crest of the gods emblazoned over the heart.

“While holding the shield your adversaries cannot penetrate your defenses.”

‘Enemies...’ he immediately thought of Erik.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Ariyan eagerly asked. “If I am protected, then that means, I cannot be physically or emotionally harmed.”

“It is true.” The man nodded. “A thick skin keeps you safe from harm…but it also blocks you from virtue.” He touched the queen and the maiden cards. “I urge you to wield the shield with caution. There are emotions that will remain hidden until the shield is lowered. Remember, trust can only be gained through mutual compromise.”

Ariyan didn’t understand. If the shield was protecting him, why wouldn’t he use it to safeguard himself? Already he knew his situation with Erik was precarious. At any given moment, the lord could tire of him and throw him away. The only thing keeping him alive was the lord’s need for his name and assets, and even that was dependent on King’s Duncan decision of whether to accept their union.

The teller pulled the next card. It was a mask with black tears running from his eyes. “The veil…” the man said quietly. “Like the bride’s veil or a mask, it means true feelings are concealed, or repressed.”

“Whose true feelings?” Ariyan questioned.

“The cards do not specify such things.”

“How convenient for them.” The fortune teller laughed lowly before he took another swig out of his cup.

“Ambiguity is the fault of men, not the cards. Although your feelings may change, your fate will not.”

‘Feelings?’ Ariyan frowned. The only feelings he had currently were that of annoyance that he’d spent his last pieces of silver on a crook.

“The final card…” he said flipping it over. When he did, the man’s eyes went wide, looking back forth between Ariyan and the card. “The raven,” he hissed.

“What is it…”

Ariyan could tell without an explanation it was bad. The man’s body tensed. It felt as if a chill had swept through the tiny nook of a room.

“The raven is an omen or warning of ill. This dark harbinger is a creature of the shadows and a scavenger among the ruins.”

“What…does it mean…” Ariyan stared at the raven’s wide spread wings. The black eyes of the creature seemed to drill into his own.

“Darkness…” the teller whispered. “A storm is coming. It looms on the horizon. Take heed, young one. There is danger lurking in the shadows.” Ariyan swallowed down the lump in his throat before he nodded slowly.

                                                                    ***

It was raining. The sky had turned a stormy gray and lightning flickered through the swarming clouds.

‘A storm is coming…’

The fortune teller had said so, but Ariyan hadn't taken him literally.

Ariyan ran through the pouring rain. When he reemerged from the alley, Anatoly and the guard dog were drenched and frazzled. Ariyan had to admit, it was amusing to see the usually stoic Halvor looking panicked.

Although Ariyan could see the old man was trying to keep his cool under the store awning, Anatoly was practically snarling Halvor.

"Calm yourself, Anatoly," Ariyan said, cutting off the older man’s rant. It took several seconds for Anatoly to register his presence before he turned on him instead.

"Calm you say?" Anatoly growled. “How can I be calm when you run off and don’t tell anyone where you’re running off to? Do you realize how dangerous it is in Thira?”

“Very dangerous, I presume.” Ariyan wiped the water from his face.

“Extremely! And yet you dare to walk the streets unaccompanied,” Anatoly ranted. “My lord and your Alpha demanded we be at the inn by noon! Imagine my surprise as I count my purchases and you're nowhere to be found!" Ariyan didn’t bother to reply, which only seemed to spur the older man on. “We looked everywhere for you!”

"I wasn't far," Ariyan replied as they continued to walk down the cobble stone path. It was still raining, but like Anatoly had pointed out, Erik commanded they be at the inn by noon.

"Far enough that you were out of Halvor's protection! Far enough that something dreadful could have happened to you!"

"I'm not a child, Anatoly. I’m perfectly capable looking after myself.”

"You are an omega!” Anatoly yelled over the thunder. “And walking around unsupervised is unwise! There are men here who would do foul things to an unsuspecting victim!"

"I am neither unsuspecting, nor am I speculative about the foul things men do. I have firsthand experience. Your lord does them to me every night, Anatoly," Ariyan spat. He could see the slap of his words against Anatoly’s face. The healer tightened his jaw, and feebly stomped away, entering the inn.

Perhaps Ariyan’s callous words had reached the healer, or maybe the older man decided to end the argument knowing it wouldn’t end favorably. Either way, Anatoly didn't say anything more as they waited for Erik. Ariyan was grateful for it.