Chapter 33 The Plan
After witnessing the scene repeat several evenings, Zephyr tugged the reins and told Clifton, “Go find out what they’re up to.” He doubted any good could come from those two conspiring.
Clifton soon returned, “Mr. Alexander and Miss Francis are buying sweets,” he reported.
“Sweets?”
The word reminded Zephyr of the bag of Dragon’s Beard Candy he had forgotten in the west wing.
Still scratching his head, Clifton added, “Mr. Alexander Spring Gala. They’re stocking up.”
Was he and Miss Francis plan to run a stall at the
Zephyr looked past the bustling street toward Sadie.
Winter was nearing its end. She wore a close–fitted green blouse beneath a pink half–sleeve jacket, the layered indigo skirt at her waist swaying.
A day’s errands had brought a delicate sheen of sweat to her nose; her cheeks glowed as she cradled a sack of rock sugar and thanked the shopkeeper with a bright, bending smile.
Sunset gilded the silver–butterfly hairpin in her hair, scattering light like ripples on a pond.
At fifteen, she had inherited all her mother’s beauty, leaving passers–by blinking in dazzled wonder.
Southwestern custom allowed women in the streets, yet Sadie drew every gaze.
“Zephyr!” Alexander hefted a bulging sack onto his shoulder. “Finished with work already?”
Zephyr’s gaze swept over him. “You’re turning merchant now?”
“That’s right. Sadie had the business idea, and I signed on without a second thought,” Alexander said with an easy grin.
Sadie finished bargaining with the shopkeeper, then tucked the jar of rock sugar under her arm and joined Alexander, already afraid Zephyr would dismiss their tiny venture and, by extension, forbid her growing closeness with his younger brother.
In this realm, scholars stood highest, while merchants crawled at the bottom.
In the previous life, Oliver had despised trade, yet the man who excelled at neither books nor blades had only tried commerce after she begged him for weeks.”
To her surprise, Zephyr voiced not the slightest reproach.
“Rock sugar is expensive,” Zephyr said, fingers brushing the reins. “Ordinary folk cannot afford it. Why not offer barley toffee instead?”
Both sweets are sugar. Rock sugar melts smoother on the tongue, but its price confines it to noble tables.
“Zephyr, you still do not understand, do you?” Alexander’s grin turned foxlike. “Who said rock sugar is the only item on our list?”
Zephyr let his gaze slide over the wagon. Goods ranged from rock sugar and fine salt to sacks of dried fruit, cakes, and several hundred palm–sized cloth dolls. After a brief thought, he understood exactly what Sadie
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Chapter 33 The Plan
planned.
“Miss Francis, you are rather clever,” Zephyr said.
A curious warmth rose in Sadie’s chest, for no one had ever called her clever before.
In the previous life, Oliver had accused her of stinking of money, vulgar to the core. Yet, Zephyr judged her on nothing but the sharpness of her mind..
Mustering courage, she held out a piece of candy to Zephyr, tilting her face upward, and her round eyes gleamed like polished onyx.
Zephyr lowered his voice so only she could hear. “Miss Francis, I never cat sweets offered by outsiders.” He let the candy remain in her palm.
Sadie watched him ride off in a swirl of dust.
He had come straight from duty, still clad in a scarlet officer’s coat, the gilded belt flashing in the late sunlight, shoulders broad, waist narrow, posture unyielding.
She replayed the moment his lashes lowered and his mouth curved.
Zephyr is radiant as the sunlight, yet cold as an iceberg. Becoming someone he genuinely lets in will not be easy.
With a small shrug, she popped the sweet into her own mouth and scrambled into the wagon beside Alexander. The sugar dissolved between her tongue and teeth, leaving a gentle ribbon of honeyed warmth.
“Alex, are you certain the family still holds the Salt–and–Iron Trading Charter?” she asked, running a hand over the heavy sack of refined salt.
Under the laws of Zestrax Empire, salt and iron remained the crown monopolies; no one could trade in either without a charter bearing the royal seal. Even so, black–market dealers still moved cut–rate salt, and. the magistrates seldom interfered, leaving ordinary families grateful for the savings.
Sadie nevertheless feared that, on the day of the, Spring Gala, some spiteful soul–Oliver among them- might accuse her and Alexander of hawking contraband. She meant to put safeguards in place before trouble could find them.
“Have you forgotten? Garrett’s a merchant,” Alexander said, stacking the sacks in tidy rows. “He has been trading in Dwarven City since he was fourteen and already holds a license for salt.” He added, “Relax. We’re moving no more than a few dozen pounds today; even if we tried to sell an entire mine, no one would dare challenge us.”
Only then did Sadie’s shoulders finally relax.
Soon, it was the beginning of the Spring Gala. South–side Flora Park, sprawling across a thousand acres in the southern quarter, offered endless hills, ponds, and pavilions. Vendors had claimed the choicest spots at dawn and were already shouting for customers.
