Pretty - A Fairy Tale Retelling of the Frog Prince (The Crown and the Sceptre Book 8) by Kristina J Jordan

Author:Kristina J Jordan [Jordan, Kristina J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fairytale, retelling, Princess, young adult, Adventure
Publisher: Kristina J Jordan
Published: 2021-12-27T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

The unmarked carriage rolled toward the old quarter, where teetering buildings loomed on each side of the narrow cobblestone street, casting dark shadows over the rumbling carriage. Violette had the sense to take two guards, one placed on either end of the carriage. Auber drew back the curtain. Piles of refuse lay in rotting piles, drawing clouds of buzzing flies to their noxious odor. The few people around scurried by, glancing furtively at the rattling carriage.

No one went to old quarter mage market without good reason.

Auber had never been in a city. The sights and smells overwhelmed him with their intensity.

The old quarter was quiet. Ominous.

The carriage rolled to a stop outside a covered market.

“Is this the mage market?” Violette adjusted her veil so she could peek out.

Arel nodded, her mouth pressed in a thin line. “Follow me and do exactly what I say. And for goodness sake, don’t let anyone know you’re carrying money, and especially don’t let anyone see you’re the princess.”

“What should I do?” Auber asked. He didn’t fancy being trundled into the increasingly restrictive sack again.

Arel shrugged. “You can walk; no one will look twice here.”

They descended from the carriage, Violette looking around in interest. She had dressed in an old maid’s uniform covered with a patched cloak; her dark glossy hair was bundled under a kerchief. Auber scampered to keep up as the two girls entered the worn set of wooden double doors.

Auber gaped. Despite the quiet street, the market bustled with activity. Stalls lined the wide building; each vender displaying their wares. Some venders had no wares, just a sign revealing the service offered.

“Follow me,” Arel whispered. “Uncle Morem’s stall is this way.” She strode down a narrow aisle. Throwing a longing glance at the tantalising wares, Violette followed, with Auber close behind.

As Arel predicted, no one looked twice at Auber. If he were perfectly honest, he was the least strange thing in the mage market. He skipped away as a snake reared its head from a colourful basket and swayed, beady eyes fixed on Auber’s form.

“Try to keep up,” Arel whispered, her body taut with tension. She headed for the far south corner of the market, where a ramshackle stall covered with a grimy cloth leaned against the wall. The table held a mortar and pestle, along with an array of ingredients. Auber recognized some herbs and roots from his father’s workroom at the castle.

“Uncle Morem?” Arel whispered, tapping the table.

Auber stared at the stall. There was no one there.

“Uncle Morem, I know you’re here,” Arel whispered again, louder this time.

The grimy cloth rustled. A disheveled head popped out. “Yes, child.” Uncle Morem climbed from underneath the stall, stretching and yawning. He flicked a strand of long greasy hair from his eyes.

“Uncle Morem, what have we told you about sleeping here. It’s not safe,” Arel scolded.

“Sorry. I get sleepy though.” Uncle Morem picked at a black line of grime under his fingernail. “Anyway, Arel, what brings you here? I thought you had a fancy job at the castle.

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