“I don’t think I should,” I said.
“And why not?” he asked.
“You’re being quite unruly, my lord,” I said. I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to ask you.”
“What don’t you want to ask?” he said. “Somethingmean?”
“Not originally, but now I think I’ll ask if you’re daft or stupid.”
“Daft? Well, if I’m daft, you’repretty.”He came to a halt, horror spitting across his face, then he quickly added, “I meant petty.”
“Petty?” I declared. “Whatnervehas possessed you to say that? I have offended you somehow?”
The merchant turned from the person he’d been helping. “Apples?” he asked. “Your husband’s got a whole bag. You need more than that?”
“My husband?” I asked. I looked to my side and found the bushel in the lord’s hand. “Do you meanhim?”
“Is she dumb?” the seller asked the lord. “What a waste.”
I made a noise. “Dumb? Dumb, he asks! And what do youmean,waste?”
“It’s not so pleasant, is it? To be called names?” the lord asked me.
“I’m not the one who assumedyouwere my husband.No! How dare he ask ifIam dumb!”
“You’ve got your hands full, huh?”the merchant said.
“I’ll show you hands full, sir!” I begged.
The lord sighed.“It’s your braid,”he explained. He flicked his hand at it.
“My braid?” I asked.
He came closer, eyeing all my features all at once. I leaned away from him.
“What’s happening? Stop it.”
In the most condescending tone, he said, “In Chalke, married women wear their hair in braids in demonstration of their union. You follow?”
The merchant returned to peddling his fares to someone who inquired about the material his bowls were carved from.
“But I’m Oreian,” I replied.
“Aye, and I’m sure the absolute stranger you’ve just met knows that,” he muttered.
“I–” I stopped. “Well, in Oreia, the braid is…” I listened to his words, then reexamined his attire. His shirt was loud, but he wore it well. There were no sigils or names, but there was something about how he spoke. “Fine. I’ll ask. Are you or are you Oreian, sir?” I asked.
“I am,” he said.
“I see. Is that good or bad for me?” I asked.
“I’m deciding,” he said.
I went on. “Well. Well, I suppose the bit about the hair is good information to have despite the manner in which you’ve delivered it, my lord. So, I thank you for educating me. I’ve been here an hour and already I’ve cast the entirely wrong impression. Hooray.”
“Indeed,” he said. “Good day, Your–”
“Such an odd thing to divert ideology on, though. Don’t you agree? I mean, our braids are worn to display an intactvirgini-uh.” He quirked a brow as I came to an awkward pause. “An intact, um.”
