Page 66 of The Starling and the Hatter

21

Elise

I arrived at Winhaven Wednesday afternoon and made my way through the streets. I could see the colorful banners and striped tents of the festival dotting the hillside above the village. Atop that hill sat the castle of the Sovereign Duke and Duchess of Winberg. Winhaven was situated at the Northern tip of Winberg and, like Lorta, always held their fair during the last week of the festival season. That meant that by the time we made it this far north, the harvest was well past. It was the time we pulled out our furs and shortened our days along with the sun. The trek and the cold were always worth it, though, because the citizens of Winhaven were well off. Peopled with more noble families than any other part of the dukedom, the lush lands housed countless estates, worked by thousands of common folk. Winhaven was prosperous.

And all of us festival rats tried not to be envious of the easy living that its inhabitants seemed to enjoy.

A river separated the village proper from the castle hill, and as I crossed the bridge, I was impressed by the lovely decorations. Bouquets of white roses tied with red ribbons were fixed to each pillar along the way. So it was curious indeed when I reached the middle of the bridge and saw at least five men all dressed in the black, white, and red livery of the palace as they worked to remove the white flowers and tie bouquets of red roses in their place.

I looked more closely at the white roses, which didn’t seem to be wilted or dying. “Excuse me,” I said to the closest servant. “Might I ask why these white roses are being discarded?”

He only shrugged. “The duchess insisted on red,” he declared loudly, and then mumbled under his breath, “Of course yesterday, she insisted on white, but—” He let out a huff of frustration, and I let him alone. I’d never thought much about what the duke and duchess were like, but the odd situation with the roses made me wonder if the duchess was perhaps fickle and difficult to please.

I continued over the bridge and wove through the tents. A sense of normalcy and comfort washed over me as I heard the shouts of those selling their wares and the instruments being played as minstrels walked along, singing their stories.

I found the Hatchers’ tent easily enough, the sign reading Hatcher Hats and Costumes prominently displayed above the doors. My step quickened as I reached one of the open sides and ducked inside. “Hatcher!” I called out, expecting to see him sitting at his workstation with a project in hand.

Instead I found Marshall at the table, his customary pot of tea at his elbow. “Oh, hello, Marshall,” I said, dropping my pack to the floor.

“Elise,” he said in surprise, springing to his feet. “What are you doing here?” He circled the work table and pulled me into a one-armed hug. “Shouldn’t you be in Lorta?”

“I was, but I changed my mind.”

His face morphed into a grin. “I’m so glad you’re here. How did you travel here, and with whom?”

“I stayed with the Pruetts until Lorta, but then I decided I needed to be here.”

His brow furrowed with concern. “So you came from Lorta on your own?”

“Yes.”

Concern marred his features. “I’ve never traveled that road. Were you in danger?”

I shook my head. I’d been so confident in my decision to come here that the risk had seemed minimal and even my encounter with the family of wolves had been pleasant. “It was beautiful.” And I wasn’t speaking only of the scenery. “I’m hoping I can travel back to Dressle with you.”

He reached out again to wrap me in a fatherly hug. “I’m relieved you’ll be with us. We’ve worried over you quite a bit.”

“Thank you.” I pulled back and asked what I really wanted to know. “Where is Hatcher?”

“I told him to go enjoy the festival for a while. He seemed melancholy.”

“Melancholy?” I asked, immediately concerned for Hatcher’s well-being. He was only melancholy when he had good reason. “Why?”

Marshall looked over his glasses at me as he sat back at his table. “I suppose I can tell you my suspicions, so long as you understand they’re only my suspicions.”

“What suspicions?” I suddenly remembered that Hatcher had mentioned a girl who had caught his attention. Was he missing her?

“I think he’s been missing you, my dear.”

The immediate effect of those words nearly knocked me over. Did he mean that Hatcher had been missing me in the same way that I’d been missing him? “Missing me?”

He nodded. “Is that so hard to believe? You’ve spent nearly every day together over the past three years. He’s used to your company.”

The hope that had burst inside me snuffed out. “Oh. Is that all?”

Marshall gave me a confused look. “Don’t underestimate the power of being comfortable with another person. Especially if not being with them leaves a hole in your soul.”

His words settled comfortably into my new awareness. It was another bone to be gathered. Excitement was all well and good, but if I only wanted the excitement of love, how quickly would that run out? I wanted something lasting.