The market smelled like dried herbs and old wood and something Lyra had been frowning at for twenty minutes, and Aelara was starting to think the frown wasn't about the smell at all.
Thursday market. Twenty stalls spread across the village square in the same positions they had probably been in for thirty years.
The traders knew each other by name, knew their regular customers, knew who would haggle and who wouldn't. It was the kind of market that ran on familiarity, and right now familiarity was exactly what Aelara needed.
Rhea had gone ahead on her version of shopping, which involved moving through the stalls without stopping at any of them and checking sightlines and exit points and whether any of the faces were new. Aelara had the twins. She had a short list. Three things.
