Dreams Made Flesh

then it had occurred to her that all the merchants would owe a tithe to Lucivar, so she'd taken one of the horse-drawn cabs over to this side of the village to spread her spending around a little. She'd felt self-conscious about walking into a shop that so obviously catered to the aristo families in Riada. Only the fact that she was buying these things for Lucivar's home and Lucivar's table had kept her from walking right back out.
    That and the books. The merchant's shop she usually went to had a small selection of books, and most of them were used…and there'd been nothing there that she hadn't already read since Jaenelle was very generous about loaning her books. But there'd been so many to choose from in this shop, she'd lost track of time as she browsed the shelves. If she'd simply picked one that had interested her, she would have completed her purchases and been out of the shop before Roxie came in.
    "He's hardly going to tell every merchant in the village that we're lovers," Roxie snapped. "Especially since we've tried to be discreet about our liaison."
    Marian swallowed wrong and almost choked, so she didn't hear the proprietor's response.
    "Oh, very well," Roxie said. "You can open an account for me, and Lucivar will settle it with you later."
    "I am sorry, Lady, but I cannot open an account for you on the expectation that Prince Yaslana will pay it."
    "I told you, we're lovers."
    "And it has been my experience that a man who is willing to share his bed may not necessarily be willing to share his purse. If you do not have the funds for the purchases, I can hold the items for a few days."
    "Don't bother," Roxie snapped. "The merchants in Doun wouldn't treat me this way."
    "Then I suggest you do your shopping in Doun."
    When she heard the door open, Marian rose from her crouch. But Roxie hadn't quite left the shop. For a long moment, their eyes met. Then something outside caught Roxie's attention, and she left the shop in a hurry.
    Working to steady her nerves, Marian approached the counter.
    "Have you found everything you wanted?" the proprietor asked.
    "Yes, thank you," Marian replied, trying not to stammer. She swallowed hard. "Prince Yaslana instructed me to have the household purchases put on his account."
    "I see." He flicked a look at the door as someone entered the shop. Why had she come to this part of the village? Why hadn't she kept to the shops where she felt she belonged? Why— "What's all this?"
    Jaenelle was suddenly beside her, looking at the cookware with a gleam in her eyes that was downright scary. "Lady Angelline," Marian said.
    Jaenelle smiled. "You finally informed Lucivar that he wasn't getting another dinner until you had the proper tools to cook with, didn't you?"
    "Not exactly," Marian muttered.
    "You're Lady Marian?" the proprietor asked.
    "Yes." Maybe she shouldn't be surprised that he'd heard her name. After all, she and Lucivar were the only Eyriens living near Riada.
    "Are you sure you have everything?" Jaenelle asked.
    "Yes, I'm sure. I thought about—"
    But Jaenelle was already heading toward the part of the shop that held household goods, and remembering their last shopping trip, Marian rushed after her.
    "I don't need the large- cheese grater," Marian said a few minutes later, trying to keep her voice from edging toward desperation. It wasn't a question of taste, as it had been when they'd shopped for Lucivar's furniture, it was Jaenelle's unflagging idea that if Marian needed one of something for the kitchen, two would be better.
    "Why not?" Jaenelle said. "You only have the little one."
    "The smaller one is all I need. Really." She took the cheese grater out of Jaenelle's hands and put it back on the shelf.
    Since she couldn't hold Jaenelle back, she tried to steer the direction of that energy and enthusiasm, so it wasn't really her fault that they ended up buying a set of dishes… and glasses… and silverware… and a corner shelf for what use she didn't know except Jaenelle thought it would look nice in the kitchen.
    Numbed by the sheer quantity of purchases, she watched the proprietor tally up the cost and wondered how many years of tithes had just been eliminated.
    Then the proprietor turned to the smaller stack of items on the counter.
    "No," Marian said. "Those don't go on Prince Yaslana's account. Those are my purchases."
    As he tallied up her purchases, she called in the wallet she'd bought on her last shopping trip. Most of her wages were tucked in the back