“Mother, what kind of treat will you be making me for my birthday this year?”


    I smirked at Taryn; I’d spoiled him with goodies and sweets for as long as I could remember, and I always made him something special for his birthday. He was lucky he was dragonkin, or he would have been horribly obese. Instead, he was lanky and tall, almost taller than me.


    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied as I wiped the counter with a damp rag.


    Taryn gave me his lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he placed a long-fingered hand on my shoulder. “You do this every year. Act as if I’ll have nothing special, only to turn around and surprise me.”


    “Then why ask? To take the fun out of it? You’ll just have to wait and see, my little glutton. Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow, anyway.”


    He laughed and shrugged his broad-set shoulders; they were too bulky for his narrow frame, but I knew he would grow into them with age. “I’m off to the cobbler.”


    I narrowed my eyes at him, the edges of my lips tilting upward slightly. “I didn’t know you needed your boots repaired.”


    His alabaster face flushed red as he rubbed the back of his neck up and down. “Well, no. I just… I like his… his daughter is…”


    “Run along now. No need to explain yourself,” I said with a chuckle. “Be good, and be smart.”


    He laughed awkwardly in reply and bounded out the door with a grin.


    I poked about the bakery, arranging spices and wiping down surfaces. The wealthy customer was scheduled to arrive that day to retrieve his sampler. Though I always kept the shop tidy, I gave it an extra clean for good measure. First impressions were forever.


    The cuckoo clock on the wall told me I still had an hour before the client would arrive, and with Taryn out of my hair, it seemed like a good time to venture down to the fruit stand. I’d planned a cheesecake topped with raspberries and cherries for Taryn’s birthday, but I wished I had enough cocoa powder to have baked him his favorite: a chocolate cheesecake with chocolate frosting.


    With the tensions running high in the capital, the port had been closed. Meaning nothing got in, and nothing got out. Not even something as harmless as cocoa powder.


    If only the king could make up his damn mind, I thought. He was to blame for the capital’s tumult. He’d always been indecisive. Even at the realm’s expense.


    The air was still crisp with the late spring chill, so I slipped my hooded cloak over my moss-green dress. My coinage was in its drawstring purse, my basket was under my arm, and my trusty dagger stayed strapped to my thigh for protection. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use her; murder, even for self-protection, wasn’t the type of publicity I desired.


    I’d used her before, but rarely ever to kill. To harm, yes. To disfigure the wandering hands that belonged to seedy men in the street or to stop a thief from stealing from me in the market.


    Even during the more peaceful years in Windport, I never dared to go without the safety my blade offered. Most of the inhabitants knew not to cross me; kind as I was, I wouldn’t hesitate to defend myself or my child. After I’d publicly stabbed a child predator, no one batted an eye in my direction. The kingdom had overlooked my vengeance, and no one missed the perpetrator that had easily died at my hands. In fact, the citizens slept more peacefully, knowing fewer vermin roamed the streets.


    The mounting pressure among the people had grown so tense one would be a fool to venture to the market without a weapon of some sort. I was glad the cobbler only lived across the street and that Taryn wasn’t out in the mess of slighted citizens angry over their lack of food and goods.


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    Slipping down the crowded cobblestone streets, the further I got from the bakery, the smellier it became. Human waste and yeasty ale nauseated my empty stomach as I strolled past the tavern and brothel.


    “Care to come in for a drink, m’lady? I have a brew sure to quench your thirst,” a woman''s voice called from the tavern as I whizzed past.


    “No, thank you.” I kept going, looking ahead to the sea of people milling about a few paces away. It was louder than usual, a couple of men shouting obscenities, rallying up the crowd.


    “Down with the king and his rotten successors!” The crowd cheered at the gruff voice cracking out over them. “Down with them all!”


    I pulled my drooping hood tighter around my face. This could get ugly, and quickly. I had no interest in protesting. I simply wished to purchase my produce and get out. Mischief lurked when the angered citizens assembled themselves, and I wanted no part of it. The knights of Glissborn weren’t exactly light in their punishments.


    “The king has left us with nothing to eat but scraps while he dines on venison and eel!”


    “What a world we live in, where we are to either be ruled by a black-haired vixen or a crazed warmonger!”


    “Closing the port so that we can’t leave? They know what they’re doing! The land across the sea would never do this to their people!”


    I cringed at the noisy complaints as I slid through throngs of ill-tempered citizens. Isolde—the mage princess—was the only legitimate heir to the throne of the entire realm of Carafye. Many were outraged at the idea of a woman taking the throne, despite her training and renowned intelligence for both civilian and military conflict.


    Some would rather have Morgan Joss—a military tyrant claiming to be the rightful heir to the throne. He was a bastard, if that. No one knew for sure, but some would rather have illegitimate blood rule than that of a woman. He was popular with the humans more than the magic folk, for he was notoriously cruel to the latter. But still, there were many who were frustrated with both options. I didn’t care who took the throne, so long as my life wouldn’t change.


    Eventually, I made my way to the fruit stand and was greeted by the saleslady, Margaret.


    “Top of the morning to you, love. What can I do you for?”


    I surveyed the small selection of produce. Once, it had all been fresh and ripe, but over the time, the selection had dwindled to spotty, mushy leftovers.


    “I’m afraid it’s slim pickings for now. The orchards have about run dry. Tis all I have left.”


    I turned over a soggy apple in one hand, its sour, sticky juices oozing down my wrist. I had no coin to spare for rotten fruit. “This is all that’s left?”


    “I’m afraid so, Aislinn.” Margaret’s gaunt face appeared even thinner than usual as lines of distress circled her eyes. No doubt the unrest had taken its toll on her as well. Spoiled or not, I couldn’t blame her for attempting to sell what produce she had left; we had to survive somehow.


    “I’ll have to pass today, then. Sorry. Take care, my friend,” I said.


    She was hardly that but more of an associate. Something about the overwrought climate made us commoners feel connected, though. And worried.


    “You too, child. Be safe.”


    Not a singular cherry or raspberry in sight, I left empty-handed. I’d used a majority of my fruit when crafting the sampler for the noble client. If only the mysterious charity who donated ingredients to me from time to time had delivered me fruits instead of spices. Oh, well. I was grateful for the help, anyway. I’d have to settle for making something else. I only hoped Taryn wouldn’t be disappointed.


    Maybe he’d understand, maybe not. He was only on the cusp of the teenage years and was still prone to irrational fits of disappointment from time to time.


    “To hell with the Odsbys!” a disgruntled voice croaked out loudly, followed by applause. “If they want to treat us like scum, we’ll show them scum!”


    A scruffy-faced man with both a tattooed body and head climbed atop a scaffolding as the crowd roared. He pulled down his trousers and started urinating on the platform as some shrieked. The people scattered, shocked and disgusted by the vile action.


    “This is what I think of King Odsby! A load of piss!” His shouts were followed by a drunken hiccup.


    Another man climbed onto the scaffolding, fists clenched. Two more followed. They tackled the offender, delivering blows to his head while cursing him. Though united by the turmoil in the city, such acts of depravity were not tolerated by anyone. Not with the Glissborn knights handing out punishments like they did.


    With wide eyes, I backed away through the crowd; I wouldn’t want to be around if the king heard wind of this disrespectful display. I needed to get out of there and find Taryn. Fast.