One day bled into another, until another market day came. The discomfort in Syraa had eased by now, leaving only a dull disquiet in her chest. Yet, standing at her stall amidst the busy crowd, bundling herbs and tying jars, she caught herself searching faces she didn’t know for someone familiar. Every sweep of a cloak, every shuffle of boots tugged her attention away from her work. She forced herself to smile kindly, to offer a polite word, though disappointment pressed heavier with each passing hour.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice cut through the din. “Do you have bloodroot ivy?”

Syraa nodded, handing over a bundle of dried leaves. When she quoted the price, his smile curdled.

“Isn’t that a bit steep? The quality’s not the same.”

“Of course it isn’t the same,” she replied, her patience thinning. “It’s no longer in season. This is dried, not fresh. But it works just as well.”

“Can’t you do a discount? I paid this much for fresh in the summer.”

Syraa’s eyes flashed. Her voice sharpened. “No, sir. It takes time to dry and bundle. Worth its price. You’re welcome to leave it.”

The man slammed the bundle down hard against the stall. She jolted, breath caught.

“You’re robbing me, girl!”

“Nonsense. Look elsewhere, you won’t find it cheaper. But I’m not making you buy it.” She leaned forward over the stall, face set, voice cutting. “If you want it, pay the price. Otherwise, leave it.”

She reached for the bundle. His hand shot out, clamping around her wrist.

Her breath stuttered. Heat rushed up her spine — fury, disbelief. No one touched her in her own stall. Not ever. Then a voice sliced the air.

“Is there a problem here?”

The voice sliced the air. Cold, commanding.

Syraa’s heart lurched. Her breath caught before she even turned to look.

Varek stood nearby, cloak drawn tight, violet eyes sparking like cold fire. His gaze locked on the man.

“She’s robbing me blind!” the man spat, not letting go.

Syraa yanked at her arm, fury sharpening her words. “Ridiculous. You don’t have to buy. Let go.”

The man muttered a curse under his breath; quiet, but loud enough.

“Sir.” Varek stepped closer, his voice low, precise. “That’s enough. Pay and take your wares, or leave them and go.”

“This is none of your business!” the man snapped, turning on him.

Varek rolled his eyes with a sigh, running a hand through his black hair. His tone shifted, steel sliding beneath ice.

“By order of the Arcanum, release her. Pay, or leave. Now.”

The words hit harder than a fist. The man froze, eyes wide.

“My apologies, sir, I…”

“It is Master Marshal to you,” Varek cut in.

The title hung heavy. Color drained from the man’s face. He dropped Syraa’s wrist as if burned, stammered another apology, picked his coins, and fled.

Silence lingered in his wake. Syraa rubbed her wrist, jaw set. Her fingers threaded through her loose hair.

“Nice show of authority, Master Marshal,” she shot at him, half teasing, half scolding.

Varek grunted. “I don’t like to have to do this, you know. But he shouldn’t have touched you.”

She exhaled, letting the tension slip from her shoulders, and looked at him. He stared at the ground, unwilling to meet her eyes. Using the Arcanum as leverage was the last thing he wanted, and he wasn’t proud of it.

“You look well rested. Sleeping better?” A grin tugged at her lips.

“Actually, yes. Better than in many years. Thanks to you.” His eyes met hers, and he let himself smile. The warmth in her gaze softened something inside him.

“Glad the salve worked,” she murmured, adjusting her cape.

“Couldn’t be better,” he said with a small smile. “Only perhaps if I had softer hands… like yours.”

Syraa blinked at him, caught off guard, her cheeks coloring.

Varek’s eyes widened. “I mean… That came out wrong…”

Syraa’s lips twitched, and a small laugh escaped despite herself. “I’ll take that as a compliment… I think.”

“Look,” Varek turned to her, changing the subject, “I have a few things to see to. But I hope to see you later, if you are not gone by then. Otherwise… I will check on you tomorrow, if that’s okay. Make sure everything’s all right.”

She caught his eyes with a smile. She nodded, forcing composure on herself. She couldn’t let him know how his presence seemed to impact her. She bit back a grin, and nodded, seeing him walk away.

But the day wasn’t quite done. Not yet.