Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
I let out a sharp whistle as I hit the muddy, cobbled street and Sir Fetchington Von Buren came soaring my way. Even after all these years, I still marveled at his grace. His speckled feathers looked as fresh as a falcon half his age and gleamed in the fading light of the day as he settled on my extended forearm. The weight felt good. Right.
"Fetch, my feathered friend. How are you this evening?" He bobbed his head, and I grinned. "Sometimes, I really do feel like you can understand what I'm saying. Then again, I might not be completely sane, so there's that to consider…”
“Always making things up, things that aren’t real.” My stepmother’s voice regularly reminded me of one of my many faults. I pushed her away and focused on what I was headed out to do—getting some food.
Fetch and I made our way into the town proper, but I’d barely stepped a foot onto the street full of shops when a familiar voice called to me.
“Did you read the news?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to keep the irritation from my voice as I turned to face Preacher Pete. “If you mean the flyers the palace littered our streets within the middle of the night, no, I didn’t read it. Because that’s not news. It’s nothing more than a bunch of lies made up to keep us quiet.”
The neighborhood nut spent every day from morning until night standing on the corner atop a makeshift podium telling anyone who would listen how lucky we were to have such a benevolent monarch. He’d been at it for so long, he never even got pelted with rotten fruit anymore. Then again, the past five years or so had been so bad in The Hollow, people would’ve eaten the fruit, rotten or not.
“One day, you will all see the truth about the crown. One day, you’ll apologize to me for?—”
“Yup, sounds good. I’ve got to get going now, though!” I hurried off with a rushed wave, but I’d only made it another block before I heard someone else call my name.
"Harmony!"
I turned to see Cissy Petway leaning on a nearby lamppost, grinning a gap-toothed smile. She was dwarfed by a coat three sizes too big, her signature white-blonde hair covered by the hood, only her freckled face visible. She hadn't celebrated her ninth birthday yet, but she was already the head of her own little gang of scoundrels. They milled around, chattering amongst themselves as she pushed off the post and came my way.
“Where’s Moll tonight? Is she coming into town later, ya think?”
Much as I wished Moll was here instead of headed to the ball… “Not tonight.”
The little girl’s face fell for a second, but I didn’t elaborate.
"Well, can Fetch come play with us, maybe?"
We both knew that "play" meant "steal from local merchants”, and I shook my head with a snort.
"Nope. No can do. I got an earful from Mrs. Benson last week, and she threatened to make Fetch part of her dinner menu if she caught him snatching her figs again."
I leaned in so Cissy could pat the falcon’s head, and he chortled happily when she obliged.
"She's got like a million of 'em," the little girl grumbled. "How many figs does one person need, for crying out loud?"
Shrugging, I looked past her to where the infamous fig tree lived, behind the high rock fence surrounding Mrs. Benson’s tiny home. "Enough to sell and use that money to buy something different to eat, I would imagine. She's probably sick of figs."
"Exactly." She ruffled Fetch's feathers one last time and stepped back. "Which was why I was trying to take them off her hands. It's a public service, when you really think about it."
I bit back a smile. Had to hand it to the kid, she was sharp as a blade. Maybe if the palace hadn't cut funding to the only school in The Hollow, she could've had a shot of getting out of this godforsaken place.
Then again, probably not. Just the application to legally breach the Great Wall was more than most of us earned in a year, not to mention the cost of hiring a hot air balloon pilot to make the trek to Bryngarde or Valencourt. Assuming, of course, that your application was even approved.
And let us not forget the murderous flying mantises…
“Do you think Moll will be at the barn tomorrow, maybe?” Cissy asked, interrupting my thoughts.
Over the past year, Moll had taken to rounding up the kids who were interested on Sunday mornings to at least help them with their letters and basic math. An empty, dilapidated barn on the outskirts of town had worked well enough in the milder months. Once the truly frigid weather came, though, she hadn’t been able to find a place big enough to fit them all with any reliable source of heat. I wasn’t sure who missed those sessions more, Moll or her students.
“It’s still way too cold, kiddo. Probably not until Spring.”
The hope in her eyes died, and I dropped a hand on the top of her head with a sigh.
"How about this? If Fetch and I get anything good to eat tonight, I'll come by the house and drop you and your mom off a little something?"
She swiped a dirty hand across her nose and nodded, brightening. "Deal!" With that, she turned and ran off to rejoin her crew.
"We're going to have to try for two rabbits tonight, my friend," I murmured to Fetch, the pressure of the hunt mounting with every step. I needed to hurry?—
“Harmony!”
"Damn it." I grumbled, fixing a smile to my lips as I turned. "Hey, Xavier."
It only took one glance and a sniff of the air around him to know that he'd already been to the pub. His dark eyes were glassy, and he weaved on his feet with each word he spoke.
"Did you ever wind up wearing those shoes we traded for?"
I pointed to my mud-covered boots. "Can't say that I've had a cause to, no." He looked so disappointed that I found myself trying to soften the blow. "They're more of a showpiece in any case, don't you think? Like art."
"So, you're saying you're never going to wear them?"
"No, I'm just—" I broke off and tossed up my hands. "Okay, fine. Yes. I'm saying I'll never wear them. Even if I had a place to go—which I don't—they're not really my style. Do you see me in ball gowns?” He shook his head, and I plowed on. “They're gorgeous, but I traded for them because you needed a meal, and I figured I could sell them." He looked totally crestfallen.
Double damn. I hated seeing him so low. I took a breath and tried again. "I’m sure Moll will wear them, though."
He perked up even as I realized I probably should've kept that tidbit to myself. "Excellent. Where to?”
"Just around the house, probably. You know how she likes to play dress up and such."
He nodded, a little less enthusiastic than before. "Well, yes. But art is made to be seen, she should be out here, showing off her shoes and the legs attached to them!"
I winced. His unrequited affection for Moll on full display was uncomfortable, but I used it to my advantage. "Well. believe me, she'll be looking at them every day. She's in love—with the shoes that is. I swear. I've got to get a move on, though. Fetch and I have an appointment with a family of rabbits."
"Rabbits! Ahhh, it's been a long time since I've had rabbit..."
I wanted to bite off my own tongue. Hell, maybe I should and just eat that, since I was so hellbent on giving away all the dinner I hadn't even caught yet.
I swallowed a sigh. “If we have a good hunt, I'll bring some by your place if you're home."
"Oh, I'll be home! And I'll make sure I've got the fire crackling and ready." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a meal I had yet to provide. He toddled away as I strode off again, sending up a silent prayer that there would be no more interruptions. I needed to make it to the edge of the woods, downwind before the rabbits came out.
Still cursing myself for running my stupid mouth and offering food to half the freaking Hollow, Fetch and I made it to the edge of the woods a few minutes later. The temperature had been steadily dipping as the sun lowered. It didn't help my mood that the only clear patch of ground I could sprawl on was still coated in frost from the night before, hidden in the trees and kept from the light and warmth of the day.
"Fuck glass slippers. Next trade I make is for a new coat," I whispered, dropping low and stretching out on the icy grass with a wince as the cold bit through my worn clothes. Fetch fluttered down beside me, nestling into my neck. "Thanks, buddy."
Twenty minutes later, my woolen sweater was soaked through, and my stomach was so cold it felt hot and prickly. I was just about to stand and jog in place to get the blood flowing when Fetch pulled away from me and cocked his head. I squinted, searching the landscape in front of me, but saw no movement.
"What do you hear, buddy?" I whispered. And then, he was gone, springing into the air and spreading his glorious wings. My heart pounded as he gained altitude ten feet, twenty, then thirty, before dropping from the sky like a stone.
"Come on, you beautiful bird. Mama needs a warm meal." And so did more than a few others.
The shriek that pierced the night sent a hot rush of adrenaline through me. It could only mean one thing—he’d snagged something. I heard the whoosh of wings before I saw him and turned my head just as Fetch glided toward me, something clutched in his talons.
Something small.
I had to shove back the stab of disappointment as he dropped his catch on the ground in front of me.
A squirrel.
Not that there was anything wrong with squirrel. It mostly tasted like chicken, but it wouldn’t go far. Especially not with all the people I'd promised to feed tonight.
"What a noble, fine hunter you are, Fetch," I cooed as he preened, nudging at his feathers with his razor-sharp beak. I pushed myself to stand, snagging my bow and the still-warm squirrel by the tail. Our cover was blown. If there were rabbits nearby, they’d already run in the opposite direction of whatever had just taken out their furry friend.
Which meant plan B: Scrounging around in the woods for edible fungus, starchy roots, and any winter berries the sparrows hadn't already gotten to before the light faded completely. If I was lucky, maybe I'd find a meaty hen of the woods mushroom to add to our sad little stew.
A second shriek sounded in the distance, but this one had me freezing in place.
Far louder than the triumphant cry of a falcon, it sent a hot bolt of terror from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes.
Mantis.