Ratha didn’t have a shopping district, but it did host a daily open-air market.

The sun had fully risen in the sky over the eastern mountains, making the snow glitter like shards of cut glass, when Papa helped Sterling into the wagon. Seraiah had left for the castle nearly a half hour ago, and now Sterling and Papa were headed to the market for another day of trying to sell furniture to customers who had little interest in such things anymore.

Once Sterling was settled, Papa climbed up next to her, taking the reins and clicking at their old mule to get her walking. Some days, she needed more urging than others to get moving.

Daisy had been pulling their wagon for as long as Sterling could remember. She’d been the one to name the old mule, after her favorite flower that had sprouted every spring in the field behind their house.

She’d loved running through the field, grabbing as many flowers in her hands as she could. She’d always insisted the house be filled with daisies, and even though Papa was allergic, he’d let her cover every surface with large bouquets of them. It was always a sad day when she went out to the field to find the flowers gone, wilted away under the summer sun.

Sterling pulled her cloak closer around her to ward off the chill. Although the sun was shining, the air still had a bite to it. It didn’t feel like spring was going to be arriving any time soon, but she hadn’t given up hope that one day it would.

One day, daisies would again fill the field behind their little house.

When they reached their stall, Papa hitched Daisy to the post at the back before helping Sterling down. She assisted him in setting up the stall and then gave Daisy a good brushing while Papa made the finishing touches.

Freya, the woman who ran the stall next to theirs, stopped to say hello. She sold clothing items, blankets, and floor rugs that she and her daughters would weave on their loom. Their family had always been a frequent customer of Freya’s, buying all their dresses and cloaks from her when they had the coin for it.

“Did you hear about what happened to the Tutson family?” Freya asked Sterling as she folded dresses on a display table next to the stall divider.

“No.” Sterling wandered closer to the divider. She could never resist a story. “What is it?”

Freya always knew what was going on with everyone. If you ever wanted to know information about someone, she was the best person to ask.

Freya glanced over her shoulder to where her youngest daughter, Nissa, was laying out floor rugs for display before leaning in toward Sterling.

“Well, they’ve been struggling for food to feed their eight children. Can you imagine having eight mouths to feed?”

Sterling shook her head.

“The father went hunting in the woods,” Freya continued, then glanced at her daughter again before leaning even closer, “and he never came back.”

It wasn’t uncommon for hunters to go out looking for game in the woods, but they usually returned—mostly empty-handed—but they returned.

“That poor family. What do you think happened?”

More than likely, the man had gotten lost. The woods were dense, and it was easy to get turned around and spend days wandering.

Freya’s eyes gleamed, and Sterling knew she had more gossip to share. She could already imagine Seraiah’s face when she relayed this latest story.

Freya beckoned Sterling closer until she could feel Freya’s breath on her ear as she whispered, “They found pieces of him.”

“What?” Sterling jerked back.

The word had come out louder than she’d intended and drew Papa’s attention. Freya waved and smiled at him, and he waved back before returning to his work.

“What do you mean, they found pieces of him?” Sterling hissed.

Freya checked again to make sure her daughter wasn’t listening, “You know—pieces, half a leg, a finger.”

She looked like she could go on, but Sterling waved her off, her breakfast churning uncomfortably in her stomach.

“Do they know what did it?”

Freya nodded. “It’s that beast again. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, you know.”

Sterling hadn’t known. If Seraiah had heard about it, she’d kept it to herself, and Papa had mentioned nothing either beyond his usual warnings not to wander too far in the trees in case they got lost.

“That’s not the worst of it,” Freya said. “I hear the youngest one has the blood fever.” She gave Sterling a knowing look.

They both knew that once one person in a family had the fever, it usually passed swiftly to the rest. No one survived the fever. It was a small miracle it had only taken Mama and not the rest of them along with her.

“I wish there was something that we could do for them, but I would never risk sending one of my girls over there if it’s true they caught the fever.”

Sterling nodded sympathetically, but her thoughts were still on the man that had been found in pieces.

How long had this been happening? Was something going to come creeping out of the forest at night, in search of more prey?

The risk of fever, starvation, or freezing to death were enough as it was; they didn’t need a man-eating creature to top it off.

Excusing herself, Sterling returned to helping Papa.

As the day wore on, more people trickled past their booth, but most didn’t so much as glance their way.

Sterling sat perched on a stool at the back of the stall. It was where Seraiah had once sat when she’d come with them before she’d taken her job in the castle. 

When Sterling was bored, Seraiah had entertained her through the long hours by telling her stories about the people they saw walk by, each story more outlandish than the last.

Sterling attempted to employ that technique now, but it wasn’t long before she was bored again. Everyone who walked by was familiar to her. It was hard to make up stories when she already knew so much about them.

She yawned and stretched. Seraiah’s tossing and turning from her nightmares had kept Sterling awake, too.

Maybe a walk around the market would help wake her up and provide some entertainment. Papa wouldn’t be happy about it though. He didn’t like when she went off on her own.

It was true her silver hair, more at home on someone decades older than her, made her stand out in a crowd, but everyone here was used to it by now. She rarely drew stares anymore.

When Sterling told Papa she was going for a walk, he gave his usual list of warnings and made her promise to be back before the market closed. That would be easy enough, since there weren’t too many stalls these days.

Sterling made her way up the aisle and turned the corner to head down the next one. It seemed like every other stall was empty.

She paused to browse the wares every few stalls and listen in on the conversations. For the most part, people spoke of mundane things, complaints about the snow and the like, but every once in a while, she caught word of someone mentioning strangers. Freya hadn’t said a word about them, but if they were traders, Sterling was sure to come across them in the market eventually.

She continued to wind her way up and down, aisle after aisle, looking for any unfamiliar faces.

Eventually, she made it to the other side of the market, where she spied a new stall in the corner. It didn’t appear to have any customers, and the seller wasn’t standing out front trying to bring anyone in.

Curious. Normally, new things in Ratha attracted attention.

As Sterling approached, she could see a man sitting in the back, polishing a disk. More disks dangled from the front of the stall, swinging slightly in the light breeze.

This had to be one of the new strangers being whispered about.

She paused a moment to study the disks and was surprised to find that they were amulets. No wonder this man didn’t have any customers. Stranger or not, amulets weren’t exactly a popular item in these parts, especially not with Himera’s king hunting down anyone who so much as breathed the word witchcraft. His fear of magic was legendary.

Sterling leaned closer to one to inspect the design carved in the metal disk when she felt someone watching her.

Stiffening, she straightened up and found the seller had stopped polishing the disk in his hand and was now openly staring at her.

She didn’t like what she saw in his eyes as he observed her. It was as if he had found a prize.

For the first time, she felt a prickle of fear.

Ducking her head, Sterling turned away. It was time to be getting back to Papa, anyway.

Instead of winding her way back through the aisles, she cut through between the empty stalls.

When she was only two aisles over from Papa’s stall, she felt that familiar prickle again, like someone was watching.

Sterling paused a moment, hidden between stalls, and looked around.

She couldn’t see anyone.

Just your imagination, she told herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

She hadn’t taken more than two steps when someone grabbed her from behind, clapping a foul-smelling rag over her nose and mouth.

Struggling, she tried to twist out of their grip, but when she felt the sharp point of a knife poke into her side, she froze.

“Now, we finally have you, Princess,” a voice hissed in Sterling’s ear.

It was the last thing she heard before her world tilted and went black.