Page 22 of The Starling and the Hatter

I’d gone several paces before I realized that Elise was not at my side, so I turned back and found her speaking with Jacobi. I held back, waiting to see if she would finish the conversation and join me, but then Jacobi edged a little closer, and Elise fell back a step. I examined her stance and realized she was tense, her hands tightly clutched over her stomach. Jacobi moved forward again. She retreated in equal distance.

What I wanted to do was walk over, get in Jacobi’s face, and tell him to back off. Instead I walked up at an easy pace and stopped beside and just a little in front of her. Hopefully, my presence would put her more at ease.

Elise

My breathing calmed as soon as Hatcher took up his stance beside me. After a few minutes, Jacobi seemed to realize I wasn’t responding to his advances and left off to go chase a different girl.

Maddox stepping up to protect me and act as a silent support that evening was just the first of many. He never said anything; he never made a spectacle of himself, but he regularly put himself on my side. It had been a long time since someone had been squarely on my side. My brothers’ protection had been inconsistent and conditional. My mother had done her best, but her weak body had only been able to do so much. My father…I thought he had protected me, though it was more of a feeling than an actual memory. But Maddox took on the role with gusto and without my asking, and every time he did, I breathed a sigh of relief.

We traveled from Stormbrook to Lorta, and each day I was a little more at ease. I was still nervous and determined to pull my own weight, but those days began to take on a dreamy quality. A dream where I didn’t have to worry about the next meal or where I would spend the next night. I sang by day and tried to joke with Maddox and Marshall around the fire by night. Marshall treated me very much like a father would, and Maddox was a calm, steady presence. I breathed easier when he was around. He became my friend and my protector, and it became impossible to ignore my growing infatuation for him. I tried not to, I really did. But my heart was so desperate for any scrap of caring and affection that whenever he stood up for me—or even just smiled—it took all my willpower to shove my feelings down. I knew he wouldn’t ever reciprocate—he was older, smarter, and more confident—but it gave me something to daydream about.

Lorta was on the eastern coast of Winberg, and while I’d visited plenty of coastal towns and villages in the southern part of Winberg, the coast of Lorta was jagged cliffs instead of rocky beaches. There was a wildness, a rugged quality that made me want to stand on those cliffs and breathe it all in. But I only ever got glimpses of it since the festival grounds were inland enough that we could barely smell the sea.

When we returned to Dressle, I settled into the Hatchers’ family life. Maddox’s protectiveness eased when we were at home, but any time we were out and about, he kept an eye on me. It was a little like having two fathers. Him and Marshall. That was what I told myself in order to keep my infatuation in check. He took care of me like a father, and I’d do well to remember it.

Someone was always at the Hatchers’ shop during the days, but in the evenings, everyone was at home. Mouse slept in the room with his parents, Hatcher had a bed in the corner of the main room, and I slept up in the loft with Kat, Didi, and Twyla.

Twyla and Didi were excited to have me as a playmate, though I’d been worried that I wouldn’t know how. I’d certainly never cared for any children before. But all the girls really wanted was to play, to pretend, to go on imaginary adventures. That, I could easily do. So when we couldn’t be helpful in assisting their mother, I would take them on adventures. We would bundle up against the cold and go to the stream to find all the fanciful shapes drawn into the ice that coated its surface. Or we’d build forts in the corner of the house and pretend to be hiding from a great beast or a dragon, and we’d have to whisper so we wouldn’t be found out.

Our adventures gave me ideas for songs, which I sang for them and then listened to their ideas and changed them. I was surprised that making up songs came so easily to me, but I dove into it and had a whole collection of my own songs by the time spring came.

8

Three Years Later

Elise

“Hatcher!” I called out as I burst into Maddox’s tent, pushing past the swaths of fabric. I’d abandoned calling him Maddox more than a year ago, preferring to call him by his last name. It just suited him better. “I need a new headpiece,” I continued without waiting for him to answer. I’d been living with his family for the past three years, so he was used to me bursting in and taking up space.

“Did you ruin the old one or lose it?” he asked, his voice sounding bored. This was familiar territory for both of us.

“Neither,” I said in my defense. “I have it right here. I just want to try something different.” It turned out that having a good friend who was one of the best festival costumers around was a distinct advantage for a young songstress.

Hatcher wandered into my line of vision as I was fingering a feather-bedecked hat. The style was typically for men, but such inconsistency might lend an air of mystery to the Starling.

As I continued to consider my options, Hatcher tugged the older headpiece out of my hand where it dangled at my side. I had to use long pins to keep the many-feathered plume in place, nestled in my hair, and I’d found it a little difficult to move. I was afraid it might fall off.

“It is broken,” Hatcher declared after only a moment of inspecting it.

I snapped to attention. “What? No,” I cried in dismay, my shoulders sinking. “I was so careful with this one. I was sure I had not bent even a feather.” I reached for it, determined to prove him wrong, but he held it just out of reach.

“I’m only teasing, Elise,” he said with an apologetic smile. “It’s in perfect order, just as you said.”

I huffed, a combination of indignation and relief. “You’d best watch your tongue. You know that if I tell your sisters you’ve treated me unjustly, they will take my side.”

He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s a testament to your charm that my loyal sisters would so easily abandon me for you.”

I smiled. “I’m fairly certain it’s a testament to my ability to play pretend and entertain little girls.”

“And everyone else,” he mumbled. “Kat’s just as taken with you as Twyla and Didi are.”

I shrugged. “Kat and I understand each other.” She was the sister I’d never had—older and sometimes wiser. She was someone I could always confide in, but she also wasn’t afraid to put me in my place.

“Why do you want a new headpiece this time?”

“I was thinking it would be good to add a little mystery, perhaps cover a portion of my face with a veil or even a mask?” All of my wardrobe suggestions—no matter how confident I was when making them—ended up coming out as questions when I spoke to Hatcher. Because despite my somewhat abundant creativity, when it came to costumes, Hatcher’s taste was unparalleled. At least in my opinion.

He hummed as he looked me over. “It would need to be subtle. Your expressive face is part of what sells your storytelling.”