“Thank you,” I said, lifting the mug and blowing on it.
Ora plopped down on the couch in front of Hector’s feet and Hector curled up into a ball, still refusing to wake up.
“I figured you’d need it,” Ora said, clasping their hands together. “It seemed like a tough night for everyone.”
“It was. We . . .” I had no idea how to explain what had happened in Hengreave. All the revelations of the previous night came flooding back to me.
They held up their hands. “You don’t need to explain. Galen den’ Mora is always filled with people with stories they’d rather not share.”
I glanced down the slender aisle to the chandelier in the galley and the many badges of musicians past. How many of those badges were worn by a person with a sad story to tell? I wondered about it every time I looked at those little embroidered shapes. Who did the bell belong to? Who wore the white rose?
Hundreds of tales lay in the artwork and fabrics from every corner of the continent. Galen den’ Mora looked built, repaired, and refurbished by many hands, all with their own unique styles and touches.
“Any plans for today?” Ora asked. “The others are still sleeping.”
The life of a traveling troupe. They slept in strange places and kept strange hours. Days would pass with not much to do and then there’d be short bursts of long, arduous performances.
“And Grae?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
“He said he needed to go get some things in the markets. He took off a little while back.”
My shoulders drooped. “Oh.”
“We have an extra day in Taigoska since we traveled through the night,” Ora said. “It’s a massive city, but I can show you some of my favorite parts if you’d like?”
“A personal tour.” I smiled at them, trying to bolster myself from the bitterness of Grae’s early-morning departure. “I’d love it.”
“Oh, good.” Ora rose, smoothing their dress. “It’s always more fun seeing the city again through a fresh pair of eyes.” Ora gave Hector a playful pat on the shoulder, looking between him and the knife in Sadie’s hands. “Are Sleepy and Stabby coming, too?”
“I like you, Ora,” Sadie huffed. “Fine, I’ll come.”
“I’ll come, too,” Hector grumbled, pushing up onto an elbow. “I need one of those frozen treats to settle my stomach.”
“Splendid!”
Malou’s sharp voice boomed through the cabin. “Quieter. Please.”
The sound of two knocks on the wood came from Mina’s bunk, clearly agreeing with her sister.
Ora winked at us and mouthed. “I’ll go get my things.”
“I want this for breakfast every day,” Hector professed, holding aloft his cone of shaved ice.
I chuckled, licking my strange dessert on a stick. I twirled the stick again, looking at the sugared frozen cream.
“When I was little, we would bring in a scoop of snow and drizzle syrup over it.” I hummed as the sweetness melted on my tongue. “But it was nothing like this.”
“One of the many magical things of Taigoska,” Ora said, leading us toward the open markets.
Benches and tables sat around a fountain, cascading into a frozen waterfall. Ice sculptures lined the plaza, each one more intricate than the next. I peered at the nearest sculpture—the Goddess of Home and Hearth. The details of her face were so intricate I wondered what tools they used to carve the lips and eyes, so lifelike, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she blinked.
The buildings were made of cream-colored stones, several stories high. Colorful signs caught the eye amongst the white and gray. A rainbow of pennants and banners waved along strings tied to a center pole shooting from the top of the fountain, creating a moving ceiling like a canopy of leaves rustling in the wind.
There were stores of every sort, from candy shops to fortune tellers, and it was clear this was the plaza where the humans came for entertainment.
We walked in pairs, Sadie and Hector in front, Ora and I behind. Strolling down the icy paths, we passed a bright purple sign reading Florist. I narrowed my eyes, staring into the shop window to see bouquets of delicate paper flowers.
“Sweet Moon.” Made in beautiful, vibrant colors, they were styled like roses, cosmos, and lilies.
“A beautiful solution made out of necessity,” Ora said. “They even spray them with perfumes, so they smell like fresh flowers.”
“If they can’t grow flowers here, how do they grow food?” I asked, peering into the bakery window filled with spun sugar treats and spiced fruit buns.