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My eyes scan the masses as I walk, grabbing a neatly folded cloak from off a nearby table. The owner is busy loading up his cart, the end of market and hot day bringing little sales.
I promise I will bring it back, my friend.
A salty breeze rustles through my hair, kicking the flow of my borrowed cloak behind me. Sweat makes its way down my back, but I tuck the cloak in tighter. I keep my arms crossed as I walk, both to show I’m out of commission to the sellers and to keep a hand on my own purse. I’m not here to buy today, nor am I in the market to fund the thriving pick-pocket population. It may have been my way once, but I have much larger fish in my sights these days.
An involuntary shudder runs through me, and I pause to clamp my eyes shut until it passes. My empty stomach is a thing of yesterday. My need to steal is moot now as my toes are warm in my boots and my hollowed cheeks are full.
But mother is not here.
I shake my head forcefully, willing my eyes to open once again, demanding they search each tent for that familiar face. My focus slowly returns to the shouts of sellers and squeals of children in front of me, and I lift onto the tips of my toes to get a different vantage of the marketplace.
“Fresh fish! Off the boat just this mornin’! Cod, tuna, and sole!” one man yells.
“Pretty jewelry for your beautiful women!” another woman says.
“Get outta here, ya little thief!” A small child runs off, a swift kick in his direction from a hefty man selling what appeared to be all varieties of spring vegetables.
“I hope you got something,” I mumble to myself in the direction of the running child, a softness to my gaze as I watch.
A few Royal Guards are interspersed among the crowd, attempting to keep thingshonestandsecured. I glower in their direction. Marg tells me we are on the same side in our round-about way, but I refuse to see them as my equal. How many of them actually care about these people, or just want a few coins for the tavern after their shift ends? I spit on the ground, muttering a few curses in their honor before returning to the hunt.
My feet shift back and forth to avoid running into a table when I bump into a tall, trim man, the grays of his hair mixing into the dark locks of his youth. Sour breath hits my face, and my head involuntarily jerks to the side to avoid it. The familiar, cold eyes of Reynauld fix on me, unable to fully take me in as the stifling hood of my borrowed cloak covers most of my face. His scowl prompts me to take a step back, raising both of my hands in resignation.
“My apologies,” I blurt through a side smile, ignoring the pit in my stomach as his dark eyes bore into mine. I give a small nod in both acknowledgement and adieu before I turn to slip away. The weight of a small pouch lies familiar in my palm.
Before I make my retreat, a hand snatches at my arm— cruel fingers digging into my skin, sinking further and further with every breath that passes. A throb begins its painful pulse in my forearm below. He looks as if he will strike me with his free hand, just as he did the boy. Instead he yanks me toward him, my feet fumbling off balance.
“Watch where you’re going, girl,” Reynauld says through gritted teeth, his face so close to mine I can see the purple, web-like veins threading around his sagging eyelids.
In just a single motion, I could grab the knife at my boot and shove it through his kidney, killing him painfully in mere moments. The satisfying thought pulls at my rigid muscles, flexing in preparation for the life-taking blow.
I can’t kill him. Not yet at least. Instead, I will each part of me to surrender malicious desire, for composed reason.
I hide my disdain through feigned fear, even willing a palpable shudder to roll through me. He smiles in response, but I will be the only one amused when our exchange ends.
“So sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect. Just excited by the day, not watching where I was going.” The lie flows out of me as easily as water down an eroded cliff. No resistance. No deterrents. No sudden change of trajectory. Just years of polished precision.
He hesitates, unsure if he should make a display out of me too. He must decide against it because he abruptly shoves me away, landing me against the multitude of people walking around us. I get my bearings, apologizing to the poor man who caught my fall, walking away as if no harm was done.
I make my way from the market-square, hurtling through patrons until the crowd begins to thin. Instinctually, I stop, looking behind me to make sure I can no longer see Reynauld.
Nothing.
My muscles relax limb by limb, but my hardened face remains. I slip off my cloak, folding it smoothly and laying the finished product over one arm. Another breeze blows through my freed torso, and I sigh as the air hits my now sweat dampened clothes.
Despite the exhilaration I feel, the deep, reverberating thump within my chest and my shaking hands tells another tale.You’re safe, Ari. You’re safe,I try and remind myself.
There’s purpose behind my actions now. A reason bigger than just myself. Stealing from Reynauld just now was a small revenge on behalf of an exhausted and hungry people, but it lives inside the larger vision. Maybe it’s justification for a less than legal life. But when a royal lady is backing my actions, it’s easier to feel in the right. And when my gut is pushing me forward, I can’t help but listen.
“Excuse me,” I continue to mutter over and over as I pass.
Just ahead I see the table with a vacant corner. I set down the cloak in one swift motion not turning to see who, if anyone, witnessed my return as I continue on my way.
I grab the hidden purse out from my pocket, opening it to examine the prize. Coins jingle back and forth as I inspect the contents. More than enough to replace what was taken.Good. I close the sack, give it a good toss in the air for celebration and place it back into my pocket.
I walk faster, following the sodden road to the forest edge. Continuing past the trees I spot Prue, right where I left her. The corners of my mouth instantly turn up as I spot my buckskin beauty.
My wide smile evokes a whinny from her as I pull an apple from my satchel. I didn’t even have to steal this one. The chinking of coins in my own purse reminds me just how far I’ve come from only a few years ago. If only Mother could see me now— no more bones sticking out from my skin or eating maggot infested fruit.
