Darfield was a sprawling city.
A towering castle stood on the shoreline, overlooking a violent sea. The city streets were overcrowded: there were houses stacked on top of each other, rows upon rows of shops, and people clustered so closely together, they bumped elbows as they walked. And the sheer breadth of merchandise available was awe-inspiring.
In Swindon, we’d had one shoemaker. Darfield had thirteen. There were also fabric stores on every street in Darfield, some selling cloth in dazzling shades of reds and yellows.
I gaped at the red gown that hung in a shop window. “How did theydothat?” I asked.
Terrick smiled. “I’m not certain. But it’s quite beautiful, isn’t it? And look here, lass! This one nearly matches your eyes!”
The tunic in question boasted a swirl of soft reds and blues. I pressed my nose to the glass, my eyes combing over the brilliant garment, studying every detail. The material was unlike any I’d ever seen, more resembling the calm ripples in a pool of water than the normal weaves and pulls of fabric.
Terrick squeezed my shoulder. “Ah, lass. When we have more coin, perhaps I’ll buy it for you.” There was a note of worry in his voice. He’d had precious little savings when we left Swindon. But that had been several months ago, and our supply had dwindled since.
It was silly for me to covet something so needlessly expensive. But I’d never wanted anything as badly as I wanted that tunic.
Still, I reluctantly pulled myself away from it and followed Terrick through the town.
The stench of ale and the sweet aromas of smoked meat hovered in the air as we passed no less than a dozen taverns. Music seeped from pub doors. And many of those establishments were open well into the wee hours of the morning.
Darfield, I quickly learned, was a city that never slept.
But, for all its grandeur, it lacked Swindon’s kindness.
In Swindon, a man with few coins could rent a room at an inn, so long as he agreed to supplement the cost with work. Darfield permitted no such exceptions. And, with our funds in direstraights—straits,we couldn’t find lodging.
We spent the first week sleeping in the stalls with our horses. In the mornings we’d wash in the water troughs, shake the straw out of our clothes, and Terrick would leave to search for employment.
“Would you like to join me?” Terrick asked each day.
And, each morning, I responded the same: “You only talk about boring things all day.”
To which he would chuckle and pat the top of my head. “Well, please stay close to the stables. Darfield is a large city, lass. You can’t roam as freely here as you could at Swindon.”
He was incorrect in that statement.
There wasmorefreedom in Darfield. The people were so consumed in their own frenzied lives, they didn’t spare me a glance as I journeyed through the city. It was a relief to move about without feeling angry leers and hearing whispered accusations.
Often, I went to stare at the tunic. It had gone unsold, likely because of the exorbitant price. One hundred coins, enough to feed and house a family for a month. But the garment was utterly resplendent. There were goldentassles—tassels on the laces. It shimmered in the sunlight. And the fabric’s color changed with the position of the sun, appearing raspberry pink in the morning light, deep plum in the evenings, or on sunless days, and orchid in the afternoon.
I wasmesmorized—mesmerized. It didn’t matter the tunic was made for an adult and would have been an ill fit for me. I still envisioned myself wearing it. In my imaginings, I’d stroll through the streets, the majestic material sparkling. People would notice me, undoubtedly, but for therightreasons. Instead of whispering about how dangerous I was, they’d murmur about how wonderful I looked…
On one warm and sunny afternoon, I became so distracted staring at the tunic, I didn’t notice the boy sprinting around the corner. Not until he crashed into me.
I grunted as I fell, my shoulder colliding with the stone street. The boy landed on top of me in a heap, his gangly legs and arms entangled with mine. “Apologies,” he groaned.
A few people stopped and stared but did not move to assist us. Most were too absorbed in their own worries to notice what had happened.
It took a moment for the boy to right himself—his legs were far too long for his body—and then he bent down, extending a hand toward me.
“Have you been blinded? Or are you merely daft?” I asked, refusing his offer of help and rising on my own. “Did you not see me standing here?”
“Yes,” the boy’s hand dropped to his side. “I did. But I thoughtyousawme.I called out—” he glanced over his shoulder and, without warning, snatched my arm.
“What are you—” I began.
“Laugh.” He flattened his back against the wall of the shop and spun me around until I faced him.
“What?”
