Aria’s POV
The Wardens rode out. The market stayed.
That was the difference. Ten years, when grey cloaks left, everything ran. Doors shut. Voices dropped.
Dust got kicked under beds. Today the dust settled, and Sen uncovered the fire again. Like riders were weather. Not law.
No one spoke about the knife under the tree. Not yet. Steel resting with roots, like Old Jorin said. We watched it instead of watching the road.
Nira, the girl who’d asked my name, came back at midday. No dog this time. Just a bundle of cloth.
“You didn’t answer yesterday,” she said. Set the cloth on the table. Blue, like Coren’s. But this one had a small circle stitched in the corner. Red thread.
“Market rule,” she said. “Nothing goes on the table unless you’re ready to explain why it stays.” She was repe
