"Only because I can't see over them," Kell answered, frowning as he adjusted to give her two of the boxes. Significantly less than half -- but months in a war camp with a collar around his neck, months at a forced march, fetching and carrying, had eaten away Kell's patience when it came to maintaining appearances.

He knew damned well what this would look like, and he did not care. In fact, in his opinion, it would send precisely the right message.

... especially considering he'd slipped his guards for this errand.

But Neria didn't know about that.

Kell said his goodbyes and final thanks to Calla. She patted both of their arms as they left, invited them to come back as they liked, and they stepped out into the gathering light of day. The Night Market was rather quiet as they walked through it -- this was the time the vendors slept.

As they drew closer to the Isle, Kell pushed back his hood to make his auburn hair visible; it made him stand out like a sore thumb among the few people on the streets, and guards straightened to attention as he neared them, passed them.

Kell walked by them without acknowledgement. Most of them dared not look straight at him, but several were bold enough to regard Neria, wide-eyed, curious, and alarmed.