“Your real name’s a mouthful,” I told him.
“It was my great-great-great-grandfather’s name,” he said, his nose wrinkling. “He was the one who earned the lathian.”
“Well, it’s still a mouthful. And Sparrow suits you. Your hair’s the same color.”
His smile seemed hesitant, and a tiny divot appeared at the top of his nose as his brows tugged together. “Brown?”
“Brown,” I agreed. “Like a sparrow. Is it alright to call you that? I won’t, if you don’t like it.”
He thought for a moment. “No, it’s alright. I am quite fond of sparrows, even though they’re very common.”
“Me too,” I said, and he looked faintly surprised as though it was a strange admission to make. “Now come on, there’s a farm a few miles ahead that sells cider and cottage pie. We’ll stop there for lunch.”
Sparrow gave me another smile and fell into step beside me.
After eating lunch at the same farm I’d breakfasted at, we set off down the road again. Sparrow’s rucksack was fuller than before since he was now carrying a bottle of cider and two cold pork pies for when we got hungry again before dinner. It was still a lighter load than mine.
“What books am I breaking my back for?” I asked as we crested a gentle hill, following the wheel ruts dug there by generations of carts. “Your earth magic volumes?”
“Oh,” Sparrow said, flushing. “No, it’s books on birds, mostly. I like to watch birds and to learn about them. Which could be a kind of earth magic, I suppose, since earth magic is so closely aligned with the natural world, except I’m afraid I have no affinity for birds. I just like them.”
“No magical affinity, maybe, but that sparrow hopped right into your palm earlier.”
Sparrow’s flush deepened. “Well, you said we weren’t far from Hillstowe. Perhaps it was one I used to feed on my windowsill, and it recognized me.”
I hummed my agreement, and we walked a little while longer. The day was warm but the breeze was cool, and our journey was a pleasant one. Still, I’d be glad when we were at Everend Market and my duty was done. I was supposed to be enjoying all the sights of the market, though my interest was in the stalls, not the Marketplace Pavillion where marriage matches were made. I’d been itching to see the mechanicalwares of the Gearwick traders for months now, not wasting my time on a trip to Hillstowe and back. However cute Sparrow was.
Evidently, I wasn’t the only one thinking of our journey.
“Do you suppose we’ll meet any bandits on the way to Everend Market?” Sparrow asked me worriedly.
“You’re more likely to be accosted by butterflies than bandits around here,” I told him. “So, no, I don’t think there’s any danger of bandits at all.”
Sparrow nodded. “And if there was, at least I have a royal guard beside me! I don’t think I’d be much use in a fight.”
A royal guard? I was so taken aback at his assumption that I didn’t correct him. Just laughed in surprise and said, “You might do better than you think.”
“Well, I hope not,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be in the circumstances where I had to find out, I mean. Oh, look! A robin!”
He darted off to the side of the road to inspect the red-breasted bird, and I wondered exactly what, and who, he and his parents had been expecting to turn up to collect him. A carriage, obviously, and a royal guard. The Fyreham Lathian, on Prince Aldian’s end, was a polite invitation to Everend Market, the sort of social invitation you made to an acquaintance out of an abundance of good manners rather than any actual want. But it seemed as though the Cranhawcs of Hillstowe had been expecting something much grander. An entire parade, probably.
But it was hard to think of Sparrow as someone that entitled and greedy when I saw him smiling as the robin hopped along the branch toward him.
I watched him for a moment longer, then said, “Come on, we’ve got a ways to go before we can stop.”
I set off down the road, and Sparrow hurried to catch up with me.
CHAPTER 3
BIRDOSWYN
The day grew warmer, and as the afternoon wore on, I was glad that I wasn’t still wearing my formal doublet with its layers of lace and velvet or I might have melted into a puddle right on the path. As it was, although I was warm, it was bearable. It helped that Elowin’s earlier brisk strides had slowed to a casual stroll, which I was almost certain was for my benefit.
Still, it was my first time leaving Hillstowe, and more than once I found myself caught up taking in the surroundings or gazing at a field of black and white cows before finding I was ten paces behind and rushing to catch up. Elowin didn’t seem to mind, though, waiting patiently with a bemused smile on his face and my heavy pack slung over his shoulder.
We walked for what seemed like miles, and I’d seen no less than four robins, six finches, and a raven by the time we paused under the shade of a willow tree for a much-needed break. My feet ached, and the fabric of my shirt was clinging to my back when I eased Elowin’s pack off my shoulders andsat down in the long grass. I swept my hair over one shoulder and thought wistfully of his suggestion that I tie it back. But of course the idea was ridiculous. I’d had it drilled into me since I was a child—nobility did not tie their hair back. Otherwise how would they be recognized?
Still, I closed my eyes briefly and allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to have the freedom of movement that would come from something as simple as a braid. Not that I even knewhowto braid hair. It seemed like something best undertaken with assistance.
