“Five or ten pounds?” asks the man, glancing up.

“Ten,” I say. We’ll need as much as we can carry. I continue to feign a cough.

“You all right?” he asks.

I kick myself. I’m trying to avoid suspicion, and I’ve only managed to pique his. I clear my throat. “Yes, I’m fine.”

The man stands and leans across the table. I take a step back. “Your voice—it’s all singsongy like. You always sound like that?”

Now he’s just being nosy. The boy lugs over the sack of rice as I toss four coins onto the table. I pick up the sack by its fabric handles, give the man a quick nod, and hurry away. I look back to see him scratching the top of his head and craning his neck in my direction. He knows something is off.

I haul the sack to the bed of the cart and lean against the wall, waiting anxiously for Constance to return. If the man has followed me, I can’t make him out anywhere among the many faces. The crowd ebbs and flows, women carrying their children, men chatting away with their friends. My mother might be here somewhere. I scan the crowd, and a familiar face appears.

Erin.

I haven’t even considered that she might be here.

I catch myself in the act of calling out to her, a habit I no longer have the luxury of indulging. I stare at her through the web of unfamiliar faces, and she turns toward me as if answering my silent signal. When she meets my eyes, she seems confused, but I’m horrified.

Erin’s left eye is swollen, her bottom lip is puffed out, and she has a purple bruise on the right side of her neck. I step forward, trying to get a better look. Confusion melts into recognition, and she smiles. Even in this disguise, she knows me. She whispers something to the man who stands next to her and quickly zigzags through the crowd toward me, positioning herself at the corner of the wall. She pulls the hood of her cloak up around her neck and looks down as she speaks.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispers. “I was so worried. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”

“Erin, what happened to your face?”

“I’m betrothed now, Sophia. Isn’t that wonderful?” She chokes back tears.

“You were chosen?” I ask. Of course she was. She is everything I have ever wanted. That someone else sees her this way doesn’t surprise me. I just don’t want to believe that someone who chose her would hurt her.

“Yes, first round. My father is ecstatic.”

How could her father possibly be happy? Has he seen her face? “What did he do to you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she says, fumbling with her purse.

“You’ve been betrothed for little more than a day and already your face is—”

“Shh!” Erin puts her back on the corner of the wall, her shoulder nearly touching mine. “Get away from here.” She looks at me, and my heart breaks open. “Even in those clothes you’re beautiful, Sophia.” She is trying to change the subject.

Tears sting my eyes. “Come with me. We’re leaving. You can come with us.”

“I can’t. My father would disown me. Did you hear about Liv?”

I nod.

“She is in a far better place than you or I, or—maybe just me.” Erin forces a smile through a torrent of tears. She buries her face in her hands, and I reach out to touch her arm. “I wish things could be different, but I know that they can’t be. He paid a high price for me.”

“What? Who?”

“My betrothed. He paid half a year’s wages to make sure he could claim me.”

“Erin, I—” I can’t speak.

“If I don’t stay with him, I’m certain he’d complain to the king, and my family would be held responsible. I can’t do that.”

“Do you know what happened to Luke?” I ask. “Where they might have taken him?”

“Probably to the execution block,” Erin says, staring off. I bristle and her face softens just slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Silent tears trail down my face, and then quite suddenly, that sadness turns to a white-hot rage in the pit of my belly. I move toward her and take her hand; she shakes free from my grasp and backs away. I don’t care if her family falls into ruin. I don’t care that her fiancé will complain. I look for him in the crowd and wonder if I might be able to run him over with the cart and get away before someone notifies the palace guard.

Erin shakes her head. “This place will break you if you stay. If you can escape, you should. Please, Sophia, please go.”

She disappears into the crowd, reemerging a moment later beside her fiancé. He slips his arm around her waist, and in this moment I realize I know him, too. It is Édouard. And the men turning their faces away from Erin, as if they can’t stand to look at her, are Morris and his friend. I feel sick.

Constance appears at my side. She’s procured a short dagger and several other items, all held in a small leather pouch. She dumps it out in her hand and shoves the items gleefully in her pockets. She follows my gaze out to Erin.

“You know her?” she asks. I quickly wipe my face.

I nod, and Constance puts her hand on my shoulder, studying me carefully. “You’re angry. I understand, but we can’t make a scene here. We’ll be arrested on the spot.”

“He did that to her.” I point to Édouard, who is now nuzzling Erin’s neck in a predatory way. I want to break his pointy, arrogant face.

Suddenly, a blaring of trumpets cuts through the din of voices. Constance pulls me back against the wall as a line of royal guards marches into the market, pushing people aside and upending tables to make room for the procession. Behind the phalanx of guards, King Manford rides in on a snow-white steed. He sits atop it, his chin raised high. Everyone bows. Constance yanks me down, and the horns blare again. Is he here for me? No, that can’t be. I glance back at the cart. We can make a run for it, but Constance holds tight to my arm, shaking her head no.

“If we run, we die,” she whispers. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

I keep my head down as the king dismounts and paces in front of the crowd.

“I am so disappointed,” he says. “The ball is a sacred tradition. But, as I’m sure you’ve heard by now, the night’s festivities did not go entirely according to plan.”

My heart crashes in my chest.

“There are consequences for defiance. I thought you were all well aware of that.” He sets his hand on the hilt of his sword and glares at the crowd. “It seems you need a reminder.”

18

A hush descends on the crowd, and as he turns in my direction, I quickly bow my head and stare at the ground.

“Do you not respect the rules that have been set forth for you?” the king asks. He clearly isn’t looking for an honest answer, but someone in the crowd pipes up.

“We do!” A woman pushes through to the front of the crowd and bows low in front of the king. “Your Majesty.” As she stands I see the king smile in a way that catches me completely off guard. He seems happy to see her.

“Lady Hollins.” He takes her hand in his and kisses it.

“We are thankful for your benevolence,” says the woman. “We are outraged that someone among us has defied you so blatantly. We will not have it.”