Cursed by Christina Bauer Page B

for trying to act like a normal girl. “I need to change now.” Laurel kept staring and blinking. “By myself.”
    â€œThat’s fine.” Laurel snapped back into being chipper. She nodded toward the brown basket. “You’ll find what you need in there. Do you know what a Commoner dresses like?”
    â€œVery much so.”
    â€œI’ll leave you to it, then.” A few seconds later, the tent flap closed behind her with a swish of fabric. What a disaster. I’m not trying normal girl stuff again any time soon.
    I turned my attention to the brown basket and began sifting through its contents. There was a simple green dress that looked like it would fit, along with a pair of matching slippers. I put them on and almost moaned with pleasure. The loose fabric felt so cool and smooth against my skin.
    How strange to wear a shift without ties again. Back on the farm, I dressed like this constantly. For the first time in years, it felt like I could really breathe. I hadn’t realized how all those ribbons were pulling on me. I slipped my totem rings into my pocket—no need to advertise that I was a Necromancer with my jewelry—and stepped back outside.
    Rowan looked me over from head to toe. His expression was unreadable. The man was as bad as Petra.
    â€œWhat? Don’t I look like a Commoner?”
    â€œYou look fine.” There was an odd heat in his eyes, but it disappeared too quickly to be certain. Perhaps I imagined it. “We need to get going.”
    â€œI couldn’t agree more. Where are the agents of the Midnight Cloister?”
    â€œIn the marketplace. This way.”
    We stepped along the edge of the pool and through more clusters of tents. Most were tall and elaborate constructions made of heavy tapestry and covered in gaudy colors. Royals. I choked on the heavy perfume wafting out of each one.
    Soon, we left the royal tents behind for a busy marketplace. The scent of burned meat and unwashed bodies hung in the air. The place was a warren of cramped streets and simple tent-like stalls. Some were nothing more than four tall poles with some fabric tied between them. Simple wooden tables were piled high with exotic fruits. Other stalls were strung across with ribbons, cloth, or strips of drying meat.
    And the people. I’d never seen such a crowd. Strange faces were everywhere. Now, I understood how a jackrabbit felt in a noose-trap. I wanted to run away, but the press of the mob only held me more tightly in place.
    Rowan touched my shoulder again. I didn’t jump as much this time. “You all right?” he asked.
    â€œI think so. This is…” It was an effort to organize my thoughts. “Unusual for me.” I scanned the crowd and the stalls. “I don’t see any Necromancers.”
    â€œYou have to know where to look.” Rowan nodded toward a far corner. “That’s her.”
    I shot a discrete glance over my shoulder. A woman sat at the end of a cramped row. Her rug was covered in large, empty-looking bowls. Unlike the other stalls, hers seemed pretty bare. There weren’t even any tent poles and fabric to block out the sun.
    I turned to Rowan. “She’s dressed like a Necromancer, but there isn’t a banner or statue to the Sire of Souls. Most agents have those.”
    â€œShe’s not that kind of agent, Elea. Her recruits aren’t willing. Who would volunteer to become old and dead?”
    â€œWe’ll see.” I hope you’re wrong.
    â€œWhat’s your plan?” asked Rowan.
    â€œI approach her and play the Commoner with untrained powers. Once I have her alone, I can cast a truth spell or compulsion. Based on her robes, she looks like an Apprentice level mage. She shouldn’t be able to detect a thing.”
    â€œI’ll stay here.” Rowan folded his arms across his chest and frowned. Something was upsetting him, but I didn’t have time to find out what.