Collin’s heart leapt. “What do you have?”
The boy’s hazel eyes glittered with mischief. He beckoned Collin to lean in closer.
Collin cast a glance at Connor, but his brother’s attention had already drifted elsewhere. Still holding Connor’s hand, Collin inched nearer to the boy with the sly smile.
The boy plunged a hand into his pocket. After a moment of fumbling, he drew out a fat brown lizard. Its narrow tongue flicked in and out, tasting the cold air.
Collin’s eyes went wide with wonder. “Where did you find it?”
“It was trying to cross the road, so I saved it. I’m bringing it home to my brother. He’s stuck in bed with a horrid cough, and I think this’ll cheer him up—at least until our mam finds it. She’s terrified of reptiles.”
“You’re Nic of Stargazer Creek,” Connor said suddenly, his voice stiff with disapproval.
Both Collin and the boy jumped.
“My mother says you’re very naughty, and we’re not to have anything to do with you,” Connor added, gazing at the boy with stern, narrowed eyes.
Nic quickly tucked the lizard back into his pocket, where it settled in the warmth, content. He looked at Connor with such exaggerated innocence that Collin couldn’t help but laugh.
Once Connor turned to face the front of the line again, Collin leaned in and whispered, “My mam says you’re naughty because you always climb over the fence to peek at the dancers practicing in the glass hall.”
Nic’s grin widened, bold and unbothered. “I’m going to kiss a Daughter of Venus one day.”
“Which one?” Collin asked, both skeptical and deeply impressed.
“No idea,” Nic said with a careless shrug. “Maybe all of them.”
Collin chuckled. Before he could ask how Nic was planning to kiss a Daughter of Venus, his attention was drawn to a group of hunters.
The hunters strode into the square like heroes returning from battle, their arms and backs burdened with the hulking bodies of wild boars. The air buzzed with admiration as they passed, and Collin stood frozen, heart pounding with awe. Their boots were caked in mud, their coats smeared with blood and sweat—but to him, they were magnificent.
His father walked amongst them, a cloaked huntsman—broad and confident, laughing with the others.
The hunters approached the clock tower, where a guard with a hard jaw and sharper eyes inspected each haul. One by one, the boars were offered up. One by one, the guard nodded.
A flicker at the edge of Collin’s vision pulled him from his thoughts.
A line of bedraggled children trudged up the hilly path toward the square. Near the end of the procession, a girl caught his eye.
Her golden hair—like sunlight at daybreak—fell in tangled waves around a head wrapped in white bandages. The cloak draped over her shoulders was far too large, nearly swallowing her thin frame. She was barefoot, limping slightly on the gravel.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes—dark, stormy blue—swept the square and locked on Collin. For a breathless moment, it felt as if she saw only him.
Then her older sister gave her hand a sharp tug, and the girl turned away, stumbling forward to catch up.
Collin’s stomach knotted uncomfortably. He kept his eyes on the girl, wishing to meet her startling gaze again.
He tugged on Connor’s hand. “That’s my friend, Dragonfly. We skip stones at the lake on Sundays... but she wasn’t there this week. Where are they taking her?”
“Stop staring.” Connor yanked Collin’s hood down low. His voice was sharp. “It’s not polite. They’re orphans now.”
“What’s an orphan?” Collin asked, pulling his hood back to glimpse her. Rain slid down his neck, cold as a warning.
“It means they have no parents.”
Before he could speak again, Connor yanked the hood over his eyes and turned him firmly forward.
