The streets were busy this time of day.
Then again, Uma only had the night she was attacked as a reference point. The bar was low.
She felt very out of place immediately. That much was evident from the fact that her dress and Serosa's dress were, conservatively, several tax brackets above what the other women on the street were wearing. She could feel the glances from the younger ones as they passed.
Suck it, nerds. My mom is better than yours.
She picked up her chin and kept walking.
Serosa moved through the street like she'd been born walking down it. Effortless. Unhurried. Uma — limping slightly and extremely aware of her elbows — was working hard just to look like she belonged next to her.
Their first stop was a shop that Uma interpreted, correctly, as an herb shop. Rows upon rows of glass jars lined the walls — dried leaves, bright petals, vials of something glowing faintly green — and Uma's head spun just trying to take it in. She pulled her arms in carefully and tried to make herself as small as possible.
If I breathe too hard I'll take this entire building down with me.
As it turned out, she wasn't the one who did the knocking.
Uma had just rounded a narrow aisle when something fell over. Several jars launched off a shelf in rapid succession. She lunged and caught one.
The rest were about to meet the floor.
In one fluid motion, without breaking stride, Serosa caught every last one of them with her free hand and stacked them neatly on top of each other.
...Okay. That's cheating.
Uma didn't have time to finish the thought.
A girl came tumbling out from around the corner, rolling end-over-end until she came to a stop directly in front of Uma. Their eyes met — and the girl's entire face lit up like someone had plugged her in.
"OH MY GOD HI HI HI HI HI—"
She grabbed Uma's hands and started shaking them, hard. Uma, still processing the tumble, attempted to register what was happening.
Then the girl spotted Serosa over Uma's shoulder, abandoned Uma mid-shake, and rushed straight past her.
"Lady Serosa!"
Uma wobbled, caught her balance, and turned to watch the girl in question physically vibrate in front of Serosa — hands fluttering, jumping up and down, blushing furiously, emitting a frequency of squeal that Uma was pretty sure only dogs should be able to hear.
...What in the everloving hell is happening right now.
When Uma managed to collect herself, she got a proper look at the girl.
Orange hair. Freckles Uma was immediately jealous of. Soft in a cheek-pinchable way. She was currently fangirling Serosa the way a thirteen-year-old might fangirl a pop star.
Serosa let out her signature chuckle. "Hi, Vivi—"
Another squeal cut her off. Vivi spun around, blushing so hard her freckles looked like they were about to launch off her face.
When Uma drifted over, Vivi's attention snapped back to her instantly — and her eyes locked onto Uma's like Uma had personally stolen the moon.
"So cool, so cool—"
Before Uma could parse that, Vivi was shoving a jar containing a genuinely beautiful red flower directly into her face and rambling something that sounded, as best Uma could tell, like rapid-fire facts about flowers, eye colors, pigments, and possibly — Uma could not be sure — a reference to Uma's actual eyes.
Then Vivi stopped.
Stared at Uma's hair.
Took a single lock of it in her hand like it was the most precious material on the continent.
And sprinted behind the counter.
There was a tumble. A jar fell over. Serosa covered her mouth.
Vivi popped back up holding a different flower — one that, as best Uma could describe it, looked like solid, contained moonlight. She shoved herself directly into Uma's personal space and launched into another round of rambling, this time with what sounded like rapid-fire questions.
Serosa, wiping at the corner of her eye, was now openly laughing.
It got to the point where Uma threw up.
Not dramatically. Just the small, polite, nervous kind that sneaks out before you can clamp down.
There was a brief silence in which all three of them looked at it.
Then Vivi — without breaking eye contact — picked Uma up, laid her flat on a moss-covered table in the corner of the shop, and started scattering herbs over her with the focused energy of someone who had done this before and would do it again.
Serosa could not stop laughing.
Vivi did not stop talking.
"Hey — why aren't you saying anything? Are you okay??"
A brief awkward silence settled over the shop.
Then Serosa, still giggling, gently tapped her own throat.
"She's mute, darling."
Vivi immediately leaned in and examined Uma's throat with the open, unselfconscious curiosity of a medical professional who had not been granted consent.
Great. Way to broadcast my insecurity, Mom. Uma shot Serosa a look.
Serosa added something else — Uma caught enough, between abroad and learning the language, to piece it together — and Vivi's eyes went wide all over again.
Really laying it all out there, huh.
Uma sat up fast enough to catch everyone off guard, including herself.
Vivi — startled — stumbled backward, directly into a row of shelves.
A jar tipped. Cracked. Emptied its contents over her head.
Uma clapped a hand over her mouth and rushed over.
Oh god, oh god, oh god—
The panic lasted about two seconds.
Because Vivi — now covered in dirt and whatever had been in that jar — was laughing.
A full, bright, unselfconscious laugh.
...What is it with everyone in this world being so durable, Uma thought, reaching down to help her up.
Vivi was still laughing when she got to her feet. Shoulders shaking. Head thrown back. Completely delighted.
Okay. I'll be honest. She's pretty cute when she laughs like that.
Uma fought back a silent laugh of her own and lost.
Vivi dusted herself off, sent a handful of dirt into the air, and turned bright-eyed toward Serosa.
"What did you need?"
"The usual, darling." Serosa gave a small, graceful curtsy and reached into her coin pouch.
Vivi waved her hands frantically.
"No, no — no need to pay, Lady Serosa!"
Lady Serosa. Uma turned the words over in her head.
...Does that make me Lady Uma?
She liked the sound of that very much. She giggled silently to herself.
Serosa simply smiled and placed three gold coins on the counter anyway. Vivi's eyes went wide at the sight of them.
"Well — if you insist!"
Then Vivi's gaze locked onto Uma's.
The intensity made Uma take an involuntary step back.
Is she going to kill me.
Vivi lunged forward. Uma flinched, raised her arms on instinct, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Nothing happened.
She opened one eye. Vivi was standing there holding out the jar with the moonlight flower, peeking over the top of it with a bright, hopeful smile.
"For you!"
Uma took it with both hands, very carefully, like it might shatter if she breathed wrong.
The market opened up after that.
Uma had expected the herb shop to be a one-off. It wasn't. At every stall, every doorway, every passing merchant's cart — people knew Serosa. Not in the casual I've seen you around way. In the stop whatever they were doing, smile, bow slightly, and greet her by name way.
And every single one of them addressed Uma directly.
By the time they reached the middle of the market, Uma was carrying a full woven basket of gifts she'd done absolutely nothing to earn. A wheel of cheese from a man who'd called her "young lady." A bundle of bright stones from a straw-weaver who'd pressed them into her palm and folded her fingers over them. Berries she'd never seen before. A cut of meat she was already plotting how to cook.
The moonlight flower jar she carried separately, alone, in her other hand.
They stopped last at a fruit stand run by an old man and his wife.
The old woman was pink-cheeked and soft, with a smile that had the deep comfortable lines of a woman who'd been smiling for decades. Her husband had the same lines in a slightly grumpier configuration, which fooled absolutely no one.
The old woman bent down at the waist.
"And who are you, little lady?" she asked, gently pinching Uma's cheek.
Uma's hands were full.
She couldn't sign. Couldn't write. Couldn't gesture. Couldn't—
I — uh — shit — I —
"She's my daughter," Serosa said, and rested a hand on the top of Uma's head.
Uma's face went hot immediately.
The old woman and her husband looked at each other in that particular way older couples look at each other when they've just silently agreed on something without having to discuss it. The old woman reached behind Uma's head, tucked a white rose into her hair, and patted her cheek twice.
The old man reached into his back pocket and produced a small pair of earrings.
Uma was on the verge of tears before she could figure out what to do with her face.
They walked home slowly.
Uma did not say anything, because she couldn't. She also wouldn't have even if she could.
She looked down at the full basket on her arm. The cheese man's roll was already making her mouth water. The straw-weaver had given her the basket itself, plus the stones. The berries gleamed faintly in the late-afternoon light. The rose sat in her hair. The earrings sat in her pocket. The moonlight flower glowed softly in her other hand.
Her eyes burned.
She swallowed it down. Slapped her own cheeks. Took a breath.
Okay. Okay. Get it together.
They made it back to the library.
Serosa kissed her forehead at the door, took the basket from her, and went into the kitchen.
Uma stood alone in the library for a long moment, moonlight flower still in her hand.
If I want to repay any of this — any of it — I need to lock in.
She crossed to the nearest shelf. Pulled down a book on herbs. Another on geography. Another whose title she couldn't fully read yet but whose illustrations suggested a basic guide to the local magic system. Piled them on the reading table.
She sat down.
And opened the first one.