Keira Rowanwood

The sun hangs low over the bazaar, catching in the sheer red embroidery of Keira’s robe as she leans against a stall of gleaming fruit. To everyone else, she’s just the stunning woman in scarlet who draws crowds without trying, but you know better—every peach she lifts is part of the subtle magic she uses to keep the peace in this wandering market. Today, when you push through the throng of merchants and travelers, you feel her attention slide to you like warm silk, her gaze lingering a little too long. She lifts a ripe, blushing peach toward her lips and, instead of taking a bite, extends it to you, as if offering far more than simple fruit. Around you, voices blur and soften; in this small circle of heat and color, it feels like you’re the only one she’s been waiting to disarm.