When I see a honey stand, I zip straight for it without bothering to see if Anton follows. The owner is a sweet, cherub-faced beekeeper who wears her hair in two long braids the same color as her product. We end up having a ten-minute conversation about the varieties of honey she offers. I buy two bottles and I’m tucking them into my satchel when suddenly, I’m ripped around in place by an iron grip on my upper arm.
It’s Anton, and he looks furious. “Jessa!”
“Yeah? What’s wrong?”
“You can’t just run off like that,” he snarls.
“I was getting honey,” I say, holding up both bottles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I didn’t tell you where I was going. But it was honey, Anton! I had to make a beeline towards it. Get it? Do ya get it?”
He stares at me for a moment, and I can tell he’s trying really hard to contain the smile that’s breaking through the annoyance.
“Not funny,” he says at last, grabbing my arm and steering me down a different path.
“Pretty sure it was hilarious.”
He rolls his eyes, but his fight with that grin is a losing affair. One corner of his lips is starting to twitch upward.
I’ll take it.
Satisfied with my handiwork there, I look around for Lev and Yulian, but I can’t spot either one. “You know, Lev and Yulian could just walk with us.”
“This is not an outing for the whole group, Jessa,” he says impatiently. “This is an outing for you. The rest of us are here to protect you.”
I frown. “So you’re not enjoying this even a little?”
He shrugs. “I’m working.”
“Then you’re missing out,” I inform him. “Oh my God, look over there! Fresh fruit. Let’s go. I bet it’s berry, berry good.”
As I dart that direction and Anton trudges along behind me, I’m pretty sure I hear him mutter under his breath, “Jesus fucking Christ.”
* * *
I’m good with my purchases for the time being, so we continue walking around while I snack on the fruit I bought.
“Berry?” I ask, offering him a large, juicy blackberry. “They’re super sweet.”
I expect him to hold out his hand, but instead, he opens his mouth. Feeling a little ripple of unexpected pleasure, I pop the fruit into his mouth.
“Delicious, huh?”
He gives me a slanted smile. “It’s good.”
“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” I prod suspiciously.
His smile gets a little wider and a little more secretive. “I’m tolerating it.” Then his gaze flits over my shoulder and that smile curdles into his usual frown.
“What?” I ask, twisting in place to see what he’s seeing. “What is it?”
“Stay here,” he growls instead of answering my question. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move. I mean it.”
He storms off. I see Lev materialize from the crowd to join him, then the two of them melt right back into it. It’s honestly miraculous how someone as big and imposing as Anton can blend in with normal rank-and-file citizens, but he makes it work somehow.
But as the minutes tick past and he doesn’t return, I start to get antsy. I snap pictures of a nearby floral display and send it to Chris with the caption, Flower’ya doin’, buttercup? I’m in a punny mood, apparently.
He texts back with an eyerolling GIF, and that of course just encourages me. I’m off to the races, sending a picture of a pumpkin—Oh my gourd, would ya look at that?—and a pony—Relax, I’m just horsin’ around—cackling to myself all the while.
But then something catches my attention. More of a feeling than a sight, although I’m pretty sure it was something in the crowd that I noticed. I wait and see as a cold-fingered dread strokes down my spine.