She glanced at her friend. Sarah had shoved her hood from her head and was grinning, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
Elora giggled and grabbed Sarah’s hand, moving into the crowd. Hope was alive within her. Hope that she would find a dagger made with exquisite skill, one that would have made her father proud.
As they strolled the street, she scanned stalls filled with pots, candles, and other goods, searching only for knives and daggers. Mumbling and haggling sounded from some customers as they passed. A boy bumped into her leg and sped by. She watched his retreating form for a moment before glancing back at the wares.
They had done this countless times before, but Elora still felt she never fit in. She didn’t care. She just wanted to find a special knife or dagger and enjoyed the thrill of disguising herself as a commoner. No one bowed to her here, and there were no empty smiles or greetings she had to return.
“Make sure you round your shoulders,” Sarah whispered.
Elora had often practiced her stride. Sarah said she moved as a noble, floated almost. Elora forced herself to slow her walk and concentrate on slouching. It was very unnatural for her, and she had to constantly think about it.
A farmer bumped sharply into her shoulder and turned abruptly. “Watch what yer doin’,” he grumbled.
As he moved down the street, Elora grinned. He would never speak to her that way if he knew who she was. It was thrilling to be one of the commoners. She looked at Sarah, and her grin grew. Sarah shrugged.
Around them, men sat on the ground, their products displayed before them. One man had pots; another man had vegetables. A woman had a cart with an awning above it for shade. She had eggs and a chicken, as well as some vegetables.
Sarah led Elora down the street. It was crowded, but Sarah seemed confident she knew where she was going.
As she passed, a flash of silver from one of the stands caught Elora’s eye. She stopped suddenly, pleasantly surprised to find knives displayed on a small cart. She looked up quickly for Sarah. Her friend had paused steps from her, waiting. Elora pivoted back to the display, scanning them. She had learned much about knives from her father. Her favorite memories of him were of the two of them sitting before the hearth, with her father using the warm light of the fire to teach her the technique used to create the dagger and point out what the flaws were in the process.
Her gaze moved from dagger to dagger, searching for the best. One drew her attention. It was not the blade that captivated her, but the beechwood handle. Elaborate scrollwork was etched into it. She gently touched the swirls, running her finger lightly across the engraving.
“I would not have thought a woman would find knives interesting.”
She looked up to find a man standing beside her, staring at the display. His jaw was chiseled and square; his nose straight. His brown hair hung in waves to his shoulders. He was a good head taller than she was. When he turned his head to her, eyes the color of sapphires pinned her to the spot. Her breath caught in her throat, and tingles danced across her shoulders. She glanced back at the knives as a strange warmth flooded her body.
“Knives are used for eating as well as fighting,” she justified.
He chuckled softly, drawing her gaze. “The one you have your finger on is used for fighting.”
She quickly withdrew her hand, tucking it inside the sleeve of the cloak. “I was admiring the workmanship. Women can do that, can’t they?”
“I meant no insult. I was intrigued by your choice.”
“I was not planning to purchase it.” She continued to peruse the display.
“Hmm.” He looked at the knives. “If I were going to purchase one, I would choose this one.” He pointed to a plain black blade.
Elora inspected the weapon. It had a sharp tip, easy to puncture meat as well as a body. The handle looked comfortable to grip. “You can use it for fighting and for eating. A prudent choice.”
“Which would you pick if you were going to purchase one?” he wondered.
She studied the daggers. Her gaze continued to return to the scrollwork on the handle of the blade she had been drawn to. “If I had enough coin…” She ran her fingers lightly over the elaborate detailing again, admiring the sophisticated design. “This one.”
“That one?” he echoed with distaste.
“With the amount of effort carved into the handle, I would assume it was pricey. The blade appears to be sharp and certainly not one a woman would use for eating. But…” She touched the pattern again. “I am drawn to the intricacy and details.” She suddenly realized he was not speaking. She found him staring at her with an appreciative grin. His gaze drifted over her face. Heat ignited inside her, and she glanced back at the knives. “If I had enough coin.”
“I knew a girl once who was interested in daggers.” His voice was low and thick. “A long time ago.”
Elora looked up at him through her lashes. She parted her lips, but nothing came out. Her heartbeat quickened, and her palms were suddenly slick.
Abruptly, a shrill scream sliced through the market.
Elora snapped her gaze toward the sound. Villagers began running. She looked at the merchant with the knives. He was quickly gathering his wares, scooping them into a basket. “What’s happening?”
Another merchant bumped into her, spilling strawberries around her feet. He glanced down at them for a moment and then hurriedly ran past her, abandoning them.
