A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(71)

“That’s a beautiful dress,” I murmured instead of the truths in my head.

We wove our way toward the fountain and I admired their rope belt, golden tassels waving in the breeze.

Ora smiled. “You can borrow it sometime if you like.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I snorted, feeling strange nerves bubbling up in me. “I’m not very appealing in dresses.”

“Appealing to who?” Ora cocked their head, their hazel eyes cutting straight through my defenses. “The first person you should be appealing to is yourself. You wear the things that make you happy.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what that is . . .”

Ora took off their fur-lined hat and plopped it on my head. I smiled, smelling their citrusy floral scent in the fabric. “Maybe it’s time to try on a few new hats and see which ones fit.”

I had never really considered it. All of Galen den’ Mora knew me as someone other than the person I insisted I was in my own head . . . and it seemed they liked me without any other name or label. Just me.

Ora and I joined the others at the table by the fountain, and I kept my jittery hands in my cloak pockets. It felt freeing and confusing all at once. If I gave myself permission to be anything, who would I want to be? No answers jumped immediately to mind, but I knew one thing for certain, though I didn’t know what it meant: I didn’t want to wear dresses like Briar.

I wanted to wear them like Ora.





Twenty-Six




The music of the horns danced around the lively plaza as we people-watched. I loved all the rounded fur hats and thick wool cloaks with silver embroidered hems. The Taigosi human garb was a little worn, but exceedingly beautiful. I admired the details on their thick leather belts and the silver hoops they wore in their ears, far more elegant than the humans in Allesdale.

I didn’t spot Grae, though I kept searching, and I hoped for the hundredth time that morning that wherever he was, he was okay.

“Navin!” Ora called, flagging down the tall harpist.

Even hunched against the chill, Navin stood a head taller than the shoppers meandering around him. He veered over toward us, winding through the tables and chairs.

Sadie sat up, her slumped posture turning rod straight.

“Join us.” Ora gestured to an empty chair.

“I’m off to buy some more resin for the twins,” he said, tipping his head toward the end of the plaza. He glanced at Sadie, lips curving up as he looked at her. “Want to come with me?”

“She can’t,” Hector said before Sadie could reply. “We’ve got some errands we need to run.”

“Oh, okay,” Navin replied, rubbing his hands together.

Sadie glared at her brother and back at Navin, jutting her jaw to the side. “Ora was telling us about this restaurant, the Ice Dragon. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, I love the food there.” Navin’s bronze eyes beamed.

“Maybe we could go there for dinner tonight?” she asked, leaning into the table to block Hector. “Just us?”

I leaned back and smirked at Hector’s fuming expression.

Navin’s eyebrows shot up as his cheeks dimpled. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” Sadie nodded. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you then.” Navin’s chest puffed up, the invitation breathing new life into him. He bobbed his chin to the rest of us and headed back into the throng.

“Could you excuse us for a moment?” Hector asked, rising from his chair and tapping his sister on the shoulder.

Ora and I watched the two of them storm off. Hector was cursing something I couldn’t hear, flinging his hands in the air, but I knew he was talking about the sign in the third-floor window: No Skin Chasers.

I grimaced. “He’s protective.”

“I can see that.” Ora chuckled with a shrug. “Navin’s a really nice person and he seems smitten with your friend, but I’m sure I’m missing part of the puzzle.”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh. A very large piece of the puzzle.

The music stopped and the crowd applauded. Five of the musicians set down their instruments, heading off to the hot cider cart that had just wheeled into the square. Only a lone horn remained, playing a deep, resonant tune. I recognized the Olmderian mining song. “Sa Sortienna”—it meant “above the golden trees.” I’d always loved the lyrics. I began mouthing the words, tapping my foot to the sad, slow song.

The musician stopped, lowering his horn. “Do you know the words? Please, sing along.” He chuckled, tipping his head toward his bandmates. “They all left me to get a hot drink.”

“I’m not a very good singer,” I blurted out.

“It’ll be fun.” Ora nudged me as if it wasn’t a big deal to break into song in a public square. “I’ll sing, too.”

The musician smiled, pursing his lips back to the aperture. My throat went dry as I listened to the intro again.

Ora started singing, a beautiful mezzo, giving me a wink. “When I leave these caverns, my love, do you know just what I see? Above the golden trees, my love, the same moon shines for me.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, singing the higher harmony. “Pray I’ll come home, my love, and no monsters steal my gold. But gold or no, my love, pray I return ’fore we grow old . . .”