My belly clenched.
They were heading toward the tavern. And the blue-eyed boy.
I’ve no wish to train.The boy once said. Now I understood why. For his hands, capable of creating such captivating,melodius—melodious sounds, were surely ill-equipped to hold a weapon.
I did not pause to consider my actions. I merely threw myself forward, colliding with the backside of one of the soldiers, and loosed an agonized wail.
The soldiers turned.
A few people stopped and stared. Most importantly, the boy ceased playing. He watched me through the open tavern door, his eyes wide.
“Are you alright?” The young soldier who knelt beside me had a patchy beard and a kind face.
My eyes watered. ‘Twas not me summoning fake tears—I do not have such a talent. I’d wrenched my right knee and was genuinely in pain.
The soldier reached for me, likely to place a hand on my shoulder.
But I thought of the melted coins in my palm and drew back, further twisting my aching knee.
“Child?” The soldier prompted.
Through my blurred vision, I saw the blue-eyed boy scramble away from the harp, sprinting to the back of the tavern.
I only needed to keep the soldiers’ attention on me a moment longer.
“She was,” I sniffled, “cruel to me.”
The soldier’s brow furrowed. “Who?”
“T-the woman w-with the c-cheese.”
“That’d be Beda.” The other soldier sighed. Age lines creased his brow, and his dark brown hair had begun to gray. “Stealin’, were ya?” he asked me.
“No,” I said.
He scoffed. “And what other cause would she have to—Oi! The wee bastard’s gone.Again.Leave the child be, Connor. If she was stealin’, old Beda will have taught her a lesson.”
With a somewhat reluctant sigh, the young soldier, Connor, stood and followed his companion into the tavern.
I’d given the blue-eyed boy a chance to escape. Mere seconds, but I hoped it was enough.
My knee throbbed. I returned to my feet with a wince and limped to the other side of the street. A few people stared but did not offer to help. Nearby vendors guarded their wares and peered at me with heedful eyes.
Each step was agony. I made it only a short distance before I stopped, leaning against a wall that divided a bakery and fabrics shop. The ache did not subside, and my knee had developed a rapidly beating pulse.
“Have you hurt yourself?”
I flinched when a voice sounded beside my left ear.
The blue-eyed boy leaned against the wall next to me, a smug smile stretched across his lips.
A strange, quivering emotion gripped my insides. “Are you daft?” I asked. “Those soldiers were just here!”
“And now they’re two blocks away, likely thinking they’ll catch me at the next tavern. Although theywouldhave caught me at this one, had you not started squealing like a pig.”
“I did notsqueal!”
The boy’s grin widened. “You’ve quite the flair for dramatics, eh? But I saw the way you landed. It’s the right knee you injured, yes?” He stretched a hand toward me.
