Page 23 of The Starling and the Hatter

I knew he was right, but the truth was that my need for a little mystery had more to do with wanting to protect my anonymity, at least in certain villages.

It was the beginning of the autumn festival season and we were in Viago, but we would be traveling to Duskmoor next. Though Viago was separated from the southern half of Winberg by the widest part of the River Wrenley and thus was unlikely to be visited by my brothers, Duskmoor was less than two days’ journey from Murrwood, and once in a while those who usually stuck to the southern route would venture there. Now that my brothers could no longer show their faces in Murrwood, I had to consider that they would turn up in Duskmoor as an alternative. So each year, I found a reason to wear a headpiece that obscured my features while we were in Duskmoor. Hatcher seemed to enjoy the challenge, and it helped me feel more prepared when we ventured into the part of the country where I was most likely to encounter my brothers. They’d always seen me as a tool to be used for their gain, and I was sure that if they ever saw me, they would do their utmost to pull me back into their schemes—by force if necessary. Either that, or they would be so angry by my abandonment that they would do all they could to hurt me, both physically and emotionally. So I had to avoid them at all costs, but it was also essential that I continue my act and constantly draw a crowd.

I’d started to make a name for myself. It had taken a couple of years, but my persona as the Starling was fairly well established, helped along by my decision to stray from common songs and come up with my own instead. Not that they were magnificent songs, but I’d started telling my own stories. I’d used the grand adventures of the beast that I’d grown up performing with my brothers, and I’d transformed them into something new. I never mentioned a wolf or a beast in my songs. Instead it was a hawk, an osprey, or a dragon—a flying creature who was a formidable opponent to a small starling.

“If you like this one, we could make it work.”

Hatcher’s words pulled my attention back to him. He had picked up the feathered men’s hat I’d been considering earlier. “You think so?”

He nodded. “We could add a short veil that could hang over the brim.”

“Would Marshall approve of you mutilating another of your fine pieces for me?” I asked.

A deep voice sounded from the far depths of the tent. “You know you’re welcome to anything you’d like, Elise.”

Hatcher shook his head, even as a smile tugged at his lips. “You know my father adores you.”

I wound my way through the tent until I found Marshall tucked in the back corner, bent over his work table, a pot of tea at the ready. “Thank you, Marshall,” I said as I leaned over and left a kiss on the top of his head. “And I will happily pay for it.”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured without looking up from the intricate beadwork he was adding to a collar.

On my way back to the front of the tent, I took a few minutes to tidy the merchandise. I always did my best to help here when I could, knowing that the debt I owed the Hatchers could never be paid.

“Are you certain about the hat and veil?” Hatcher asked as I made my way back to his work table that sat near one of the open sides of the tent.

“Yes, please.” I rested a hand on his arm and went up on my toes to kiss his cheek. “And thank you.”

I’d long ago set aside any thoughts of romance where Hatcher was concerned. He’d courted a young woman for a time the summer after we met, and I knew that eventually—soon even—he would settle down with a wife. For now, he was simply my best friend and the person I trusted most in the world.

I slipped from the tent, acutely aware of my good fortune. Finding a place with Hatcher and his family had been a miracle I didn’t deserve. The Hatchers were everything my family had never been, and somehow they’d seen me as worthy of their friendship.

Maddox

Elise left in a flurry, the way she always did. The ghost of her lips pressed to my cheek was familiar and haunting. It was the way she always left me, her sisterly affection for me encapsulated in a friendly kiss. Friendly and nothing more. She was oblivious to the effect she had on me. Elise was a study in contradiction. Tough and vulnerable. Innocent and world-weary. She still had never told me her last name, so I was left to believe that name was too painful to take on when it represented so much loss. She’d been forced to grow up too fast by the death of her family and was therefore older than she should be. But she was younger too—younger in the sense that the idea of a man being attracted to her still hadn’t crossed her mind, even at seventeen. As the Starling, she had plenty of admirers. She recognized that admiration, and she could accept it when playing that role, but believing that someone could admire her simply for being herself…unthinkable.

I knew this, because I was in love with her.

I’d been in love with her for nearly two years and she had yet to notice. When she first accepted our help, she’d been skittish and awkward unless she was performing. But after the first year, she’d stepped out of her fear and truly become herself—and she was amazing. Suddenly, instead of being the confident protector, I was tripping over my own feet and feeling tongue-tied around her. Still, we’d settled into a comfortable friendship. She treated me like a brother and I let her, because the only thing I’d ever wanted for Elise was happiness, security, and a life without fear. And if I could give her that while acting in the role of brother…so be it.

But I’d given up trying to convince myself that I didn’t want more. I clung to the hope that someday she would see me as more than a friend, that she’d trust me fully and let me take care of her in all the ways I wanted to. If I could just be patient enough and wait for her to be ready, maybe it was possible.

Elise

Over the years, Ludly and I had developed the habit of doing one night performance at each festival. The Starfire troupe were happy to combine efforts with me on whichever night we believed would be busiest. Songs about dragons were always the most popular because they could truly come alive with the troupe dancing and Jacobi breathing fire.

They were still my most lucrative performances, which was good, because the trade-off wouldn’t have been worth it otherwise.

Ludly and his crew were always supportive, but there had still been incidents that made me deeply uncomfortable. Some of them had involved overly enthusiastic and overly inebriated men, while others involved Jacobi, who liked to tease and flirt in a constant and often aggressive manner.

So Hatcher and I had developed a system. He was always there for my night performances with the fire dancers. He would watch, and if at any point I removed my headpiece, that was his signal to intervene. It seemed ridiculous that I would need to have a guard watching over me, but I simply couldn’t be at ease if Hatcher wasn’t there to support me.

I relied on him, and I dreaded the day that some lass would catch his eye and I’d have to give up his constant companionship, but I knew it would happen. And then I supposed I’d either have to stop doing night performances, or I’d have to ask Ludly for more help. Neither option appealed to me.

The sun was setting and I was in the clearing where the acrobats, jugglers and dancers performed. The fire dancers and I were preparing for our performance. Well, most of us. Ludly hadn’t arrived yet, which was odd, but we went ahead and ran through the routine to be sure that I knew where they would be dancing and they knew when I would be doing broad gestures that would need to be avoided by their fire sticks.

“Gather ‘round, crew!” Ludly said as he hustled into the middle of us. We all gave him our attention as he stood with his hands clasped in front of his chest, like his excitement was too much to contain. “I’ve been eavesdropping.”

“Boooo!” one of the girls yelled from the back.