The Seven Markets (31 page)

More and more and more. She purchased a shoulder bag and began filing it with odds and ends. She was buying gifts, a bracelet for Bo, a jaunty cap for Clay. She saw a silver dagger that reminded her of Hart, which made her sad. She’d thought of him as a friend for so long, it was nigh impossible to see him now as an enemy. The vengeful part of her said to buy the dagger, hold on to it, hope for a chance to bury it in his traitor heart. She ignored that voice, told it to peddle its ill wares elsewhere. Ellie set the dagger back on the table and moved on to the next stall, where a doughy woman was selling scarves long enough to wrap herself in twice over. She moved to feel one knitted in warm, welcoming earth tones, but another woman was faster and got to it first.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said, stepping back. Her voice familiar. “Did you want to look at—Ellie? Where did you go, dear? We thought we’d lost you.”

She knew the woman but couldn’t place her. Ellie studied her face, her eyes, the smirk at the corner of her mouth. So familiar. Almost like looking into a mirror . . .

“Mama?”

She spoke without thinking as a sea of distant memories flooded her mind. How could she have failed to recognize her own mama? Had she truly sunk so low, been gone so long that she could lose her mother’s face? It was impossible.

“Mama?”

Ellie’s mother smiled and wrapped the earth-tone scarf around her neck and shoulders. “What do you think, honey? It’s nice, isn’t it? And so warm! This will be perfect for winter, don’t you think?”

Ellie stood rooted to the ground. Her ribs had healed, but there was no air in her lungs. She drank in the sight of her mother’s face, the opal eyes which matched her own, the bun of hair which would fall to the center of her back when loosened, the crinkle which formed above her nose, telling Ellie she was concerned for her baby.

“Are you all right, dear? I’ve never seen you look at me so—”

The enormity of the moment overcame Ellie. The strength went out of her legs and she crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
That’s what I am, after all. Nothing holding Ellie MacReady up anymore, is there?

Strong arms stopped her before she could knock her head on the table’s edge. “Joshua,” she said, the word escaping her lips in a sigh. She looked up and found instead her father’s face. It was more than she could take. Darkness came for Ellie. She went to it without fear.

Mama was stroking her hair. Papa cradled her head. Ellie was tempted, sorely tempted, to trick herself into believing this was life. All the rest, the Market, the Prince, Rossi, Bo and the rest . . . it was nothing but a distant dream. Vivid and so cruel, but only a dream. Here she was, reunited with her family. Joshua would appear in a second and that would settle her. She could drift away, back to the life she’d lost. Another form of bondage? What did that matter, so long as it was a cage of her own choosing?

“No. No, I’m sorry, Papa. Let me up, please.”

They were sharing a bench. Her head lay in his lap. She sat up, then stood. Her neck was stiff and there were tears drying on her cheeks.

“Ellie, what is it?”

“It’s . . . it’s nothing, Papa.” How could she explain? What could she say?
I’m still your little girl, but some things have changed. I’m over six hundred years old, for one thing. We went to the Market today and I was stolen away by a horrible monster. A beautiful prince. He mesmerized me and I left with him and I never thought I’d see you again. Only he got tired of me after a while and sent me away. To die, I think. But a wonderful friend looked out for me and cared for me and now here I am.

She was imagining saying it all, but she was also saying it out loud. The concern she saw in their faces broke her heart.

“You gave him your name, didn’t you?” Mama said.

Ellie was ashamed. “I didn’t have a choice. He asked and I just . . .”

Papa leaned up to kiss her cheek, to kiss away the tears, the way he’d done when she was little. He could barely reach. “Ellie, are you taller?” He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “And your clothes . . . that’s not what you were wearing this morning.”

“No, Papa.”

Mama’s eyes grew wide. “It’s true, isn’t it? Everything?”

Ellie nodded. Her throat was too tight to speak.

“Where is he?” Papa said. “Where’s your prince?”

And here was another Ellie to contend with. Seventeen-year-old Ellie, letting her papa negotiate for her dowry. Mama sending her to town on errands.
I’ve been everywhere,
she wanted to say.
Oh, the things I’ve seen!

She stopped him with a hand. “No, Papa. You don’t know what he’s like. Especially now.” Ellie remembered seeing him in his true form, withered and dark, like something sifted from the embers of a dying fire. “Now . . . now . . . wait.” She froze, her mind racing. “Is today the first day of the Market?”

“Yes,” Papa said.

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long. You and Joshua were over there not too long ago.” Mama pointed over at a baker’s stall Ellie remembered. It was where they’d conspired together before escaping into the Market.

Realization knocked the wind from her. She was back, truly back. And she was also here. The earlier Ellie was here, in the Market, right now. She might be walking with Joshua, or picking a table to sit at while he ran his mysterious errand.

“Oh God—I have to go, right now. I’ll . . . just stay here, okay? Don’t try to follow me. I’m going to—that is, I’m going to try to . . . well, I don’t know if it’ll work but I’ve got to—Joshua!”

Ellie broke away in a dead sprint, grateful for her modern boots, which adjusted themselves when they realized she was on the move. Her skirts billowed after her, but she paid them no mind. Let them fly off into the sky, if they must, if only she could get there before it was too late.

She wound her way through the Market with no clear plan in mind. Her only thought was to get there, to get to the little round table where her earlier self was waiting for Joshua. She could stop it all before it ever happened. Drag that other Ellie away, force her up, go after Joshua. If she wasn’t sitting there, if the Prince didn’t see her as he passed . . .

The Market is not a place for running. Travelers amble to and fro, sampling the wares of its many vendors, enjoying the feel of three suns’ light on their skin. Children play, calling out to their parents to come and see, come and see, when they’ve found a toy they want or a snack too savory to resist. As she waded through the sea of people, Ellie became convinced she’d lingered too long with her parents.

“There! Oh, please . . .”

Ellie skidded to a stop in the center of the street. There was the eggplant building on one side. And the open seating area on the other. She picked Ellie and Joshua out of the crowd easily enough. He was saying something to her, smiling like a fool. He turned to leave on his errand.

“No! Stop!”

She ran up to them, waving her hands and calling out. They ignored her; Joshua continued over to the eggplant building as Ellie stood, mooning, watching him go.

“No no no no!”

She pulled on Joshua’s sleeve but it might have been made of water. Or air. Her fingers passed through the cloth, unable to secure a grip. He walked farther and farther away, vanishing into the building with a final, eager step.

“You, then. I know I can stop you.”

But she couldn’t. Her younger self stood a moment in thought before making the fateful decision to find a seat while she waited. Ellie went with her, sliding into the empty chair, slapping her palms down on the table as hard as she could.

“Look at me! You don’t know! He’s going to be here any moment! You have to leave, run, go, just get away, just go, please go go go go go . . .”

The serving girl stopped to ask if the other Ellie wanted a drink.

“Ale?” the other Ellie said, a mischievous light in her eyes.

“Aye, and good too. Tempt you?”

She ordered two, and after the serving girl left, Ellie knew she was thinking about her conversation with Papa and how Joshua might have a question for her when he returned. She remembered walking with him the day before, how he’d lugged that ridiculous, heavy bag of flour more than half the distance to her parents’ farm just to spend a few minutes with her. Joshua, whom she’d lost so many years ago and might yet be with again, if she could only make this foolish, stupid girl pay attention.

“Joshua,” the other Ellie said, her tone reverent, almost a prayer.

Ellie kicked over a chair; it remained stolidly in place. She knocked over the glasses when they arrived, spilling their contents across the table and into the other Ellie’s lap.

The drinks did not move. The other Ellie lifted her glass and sipped at its contents, crinkling her nose in delight. It was almost time. She had seconds left, no more than that. He would appear from out of the crowd, spot her sitting alone at her table for two and once the Prince had his hooks in, she’d never get them out.

A hand touched her shoulder. Ellie screamed and spun, expecting to find the Prince. He’d seen her and intended to trap her all over again. Two Ellies for the price of one. Well, this one wouldn’t go without a fight.

“Papa?”

He was bent over, hands on his knees, panting for all he was worth. “Followed . . . too fast . . .”

She saw Mama coming up the street, holding up the front of her dress to keep it clean. She was too far away to help, too far away to do anything but bear witness to her daughter’s fall.

“Papa, that girl over there. Don’t ask me any questions—I know what it looks like—I need you to grab her and get her out of here. Quickly!”

She pushed him at the other Ellie. Surely the sight of her Papa come to collect her would shock the girl out of her reverie. All he had to do was turn her around and maybe the Prince would miss her and move on to someone else.

“Ellie?”

“Yes, Papa. I’ll explain everything in a second. Please!”

He nodded, thumped his chest twice, and went to the other Ellie.

“Ellie, girl,” he said. “Where’d you and your Joshua run off to? You know your Mama warned you to behave like a proper lady today!”

Impossibly, she ignored him. As Ellie watched, her other self sipped again from her glass and stared off into space, daydreaming. It didn’t make a lick of sense. If the other Ellie couldn’t see her, fine—Bo would have some math to explain how that worked—but she should be able to see her own Papa. He was here with her, part of the day. And he was her Papa, to boot. She should see him. She
had
to see him.

“Ellie!” Papa reached for the other girl’s hand. He missed. She’d moved, that’s all. Silently, Ellie urged him to try again. Papa walked his hand across the surface of the table and right through the other Ellie’s hand.

This time when he spoke to her, he wasn’t yelling; he was pleading.

“Ellie! Ellie, please! You’ve got to listen! Please!”

But it was too late. As her Papa begged her earlier self to see him, to come away with him, Ellie spotted the Prince coming through the crowd. He was perhaps as few as ten paces distant. He hadn’t noticed her earlier self yet, but how much longer could it take?

She ran over, intending to tackle him, fishing in her skirts for another of Bo’s rings. They’d only made the one disruptor, so she couldn’t remove this Prince’s glamour, but she still had some tricks. She could put up a fight.

The Prince stopped, and for a handful of drawn-out seconds, Ellie dared hope he’d seen her. Let him blast her to dust if only it kept him away from her younger self. If she could buy her freedom with her own life, rewrite the books so he never took her away with him, she’d pay the price gladly.

“Monster!”

Ellie swung at him with all her might. Half expecting her fist to pass through him, she couldn’t have been more surprised when he neatly sidestepped her attack. Had he seen her? He gave no sign of it, apart from dodging her blow. He didn’t summon Cutter or eradicate her with a single, searing glance. Just that quick, almost absent dodge and nothing more. Like swatting at a buzzing fly when you’re involved in a heady conversation.

She tried again. She punched and kicked, and each time he slid to the left or right, pulled his head back or leaned forward to avoid being hit. He did this without giving the slightest sign of recognition or awareness. He might have been sleepwalking.

Until he spotted her. The younger her. His eyes lit up and a predatory smile crept across his face. “Oh, would you look at that. Her longing. Her expectation. Her
hope
. Cutter, she’s perfect; I’ve found my anchor. Send someone to settle the arrangements. Make sure Madame Vlarta is waiting, would you?”

“Of course, your highness,” Cutter said. Ellie watched him dispatch a man with a short wave. In spite of herself, she was fascinated.

The Prince patted the front of his jacket and indicated to Cutter that he and his men should stay clear. “Pardon me a moment, if you would. I need to get married.”

Ellie couldn’t watch.

She couldn’t look away.

She was a statue in human form, unblinking eyes paying witness to her own history come to terrible life. The Prince had his bride, as he always had. The wheel of time continued turning, its momentum bigger and more fearsome than anything she could imagine. It felt to Ellie as if the Market itself was toying with her. Tossing her back to bear witness, taunting her with things she could never change.

“Fine,” she said. “Fine, you win.” And did he tilt his head just the tiniest bit, as if listening for a sound he wasn’t sure was there? She leaned down and spoke right in his ear, catching him just as he stole her other self’s glass for himself. “You win. But they’re coming for you, you bastard. I’m coming for you. Your number’s up and you don’t even know it yet.”

Ellie moved to leave. She didn’t know where she was going but she couldn’t bear staying here a moment longer. That was when she heard Joshua calling her name.

“Ellie!”

She thought he’d seen her, but he was shouting for her other self.

“Do something with the boy, would you?” the Prince said, dismissing Joshua with a wave of his hand. The crowd pulled him back, as mesmerized by the Prince as she had been all those years ago. They passed him from hand to hand, dragging him farther and farther away, wanting nothing in all the world but to spare their Prince of the shouting boy’s offending presence.