Page 5 of The Starling and the Hatter

He glanced up at me and then back to his work. “Do you not have that?” he asked.

I sat up. “I have the freedom to travel,” I said, trying to walk back the vulnerability that I had let seep through.

“And a home?”

Curse him for being a good listener. I let out a sigh. “A peddler’s wagon is their home.”

“You have a wagon then?” he asked, and I had to wonder why he cared.

I looked away. “Not anymore.”

His hands stilled. “Then where do you live now?”

I looked him in the eye, making my voice bold as I said, “Anywhere I choose.” The last thing I needed was to have a festival mouse doubting my ability to take care of myself, even if I was only fourteen and entirely alone. I wasn’t going to trust a stranger again, not after what had happened on the road here.

He just nodded and continued to work, not challenging my assertion.

I took the opportunity to stand and wander about the shop, admiring the intricacy and variety of the costumes they had and slipping my hand into my satchel to finger the coins that I’d so carefully kept hidden, refusing to use any of them even when my stomach twisted with hunger. I knew that hunger was temporary, so long as I could come up with a show, a performance, an act that would bring in the money that I was now solely responsible for making.

I lost track of time as I studied the colorful costumes and let my imagination run with ideas.

“Come put this on.”

The young man’s words pulled me from my reverie, and I turned to see him standing a few paces away, holding the cape out for me. I quickly wrapped it around my shoulders.

He stepped back to look at me, a smile pulling at his lips. “And the Starling is born,” he said with satisfaction.

I swished the fabric, admiring the way he’d dotted white feathers over the entire ensemble but kept the green feathers to trim the neckline. “It’s wonderful, thank you.” The fabric was voluminous enough to cover my front, which meant I wouldn’t need to worry about my dress matching, and there were slits at each side so that I could put my arms through and be free to move.

When I looked up, he was studying me. “Now that I see what was required to make this…” He walked back to his desk.

Oh dear, did he realize my money wasn’t enough? Would he ask for more?

He turned around and offered me one of the coppers I had given him. “I think it’s only fair that I return this. The ensemble was not elaborate or difficult to put together.”

A weight lifted from my chest. “Are you certain?”

“Of course.” He wiggled his fingers, prompting me to take the coin. “Plus, I hope to earn your loyalty as a customer. Come back here if you ever need anything else.”

I swallowed with some difficulty. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And might I ask the Starling’s name?”

“Elise.”

He dipped his head politely. “A pleasure to meet you, Elise.”

His smile was kind, so I had to ask, “And your name?”

“Maddox Hatcher. At your service.”

I didn’t know then just how true his words would turn out to be.

I smiled and thanked him and then left his tent with the realization that now it was time for me to get on with it. It was time to sing and hopefully earn my keep by doing so.

I didn’t go far. There were plenty of people milling about among the nearby tents, So I found a little patch of shade and drew on all my years of experience. I stood tall, shoulders back, and reminded myself to gesture wide and throw my voice far. I set my satchel in front of me so that I could keep an eye on it, and so that people could throw their coins on it. I’d have to make a more portable purse later, but this would do for now.

Taking a deep breath, I shook the nerves from my hands and started on a long, high note. Long enough that people couldn’t help but turn and look for the source. Then I let my voice fall off of that note and down the scale, sweeping into the narrative with a smile and what I hoped was charisma.