and girl of courting age to be alone. But Talen decided they weren’t really alone, they were just going to look at a saddle. Nor were they courting. Besides, Nettle was in the yard. They would come right back out.
She laid her hand on one of the finest saddles he had ever seen. It had silver trim worked around the edges. The leather had been dyed black. The many tassels of green and scarlet all ended in a bead of silver. The horse blanket was indigo blue.
Talen felt the smooth surface. “It’s perfect.” Her horse was black and well-muscled. It was such a magnificent saddle. Atra told him about the quality of the silver, which required frequent polishing, and showed him the fine stitching of the leatherwork.
He wondered if he would ever be able to afford such a saddle. He might. But it wouldn’t be enough. That was the way of fine things. You couldn’t just purchase one. You had to purchase sets and pairs. A fine blanket to go with a fine bridle to go with a fine saddle for a fine horse. Fine horse combs. And fine servants to take care of the whole lot. He could work all his life to have the wealth contained in only the glass master’s stable.
Better to be plain than servant to such a master.
“You’re a graceful rider, Atra. You’ll look stunning at the races.”
She smiled. “You won a number of contests at the dance.”
Talen had won nothing. There hadn’t been any contests. “I don’t remember receiving any prize.”
“It wasn’t a public contest. Just among us girls.”
What was she talking about?
“We rated you all during the King’s March.”
The King’s March was a dance that only the men performed.
“A prize for hair, one for shoulders, for hands, for eyes, one for every significant part.”
“That sounds like a lot of prizes,” said Talen.
“You took one,” she said.
So perhaps she was simply tired. Perhaps that explained her demeanor. This was going far better than he had ever hoped. “So what is my claim?”
He waited and when she didn’t speak, he asked, “You’re not going to tell me?”
“Talen, things have changed. You should probably not come around anymore.”
She said it with kindness, but his discomfort at her rejection left him fumbling for a response. “Because of this,” he said and motioned to his clothing. He knew that wasn’t the reason why, but what else could he say? He tried a jest. “Next time, I’ll dress down for the occasion.”
“Talen,” she said.
“What’s going on here?”
Talen turned. The glass master stood with his hands on his hips. Talen had met the glass master when Uncle Argoth had introduced them last spring. He’d complimented Talen on his aim with the bow. But today the man had a hard look that suggested to Talen there was probably no helpful question that would ease this man into a conversation.
“Zu, your daughter was showing me her fine saddle. We were talking in the courtyard.”
“Atra,” he said and waved her out.
She turned to Talen and curtsied. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hope your horse was well watered.”
When she’d walked out, her father looked at Talen. “I want you off my land.”
“I was hoping to get your help,” said Talen.
“I don’t care what you were hoping.”
“Zu,” said Talen.
But the glass master turned and walked out.
Talen followed.
“Zu,” said Nettle. “We need your help.”
“I trust your father, Nettle,” said the glass master. He looked at Talen. “And I’ve never had anything against your da. And so I’ll give you a warning. Stay to your own race. Atra’s too expensive for you, even if you were to be adopted by your better half. Now, I need you to leave.”
Talen turned and looked up at him. He had not said that with malice. But Talen wanted to respond. “You know what’s down in Whitecliff has nothing to do with me.” Talen pointed at Nettle. “Do you see his ear? I’ve been falsely accused of Slethery. Him of aiding. We’re here to ask for an escort. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Argoth’s son.”
“I don’t have any men to spare.”
There was nothing Talen could say to that. Talen looked past the man’s shoulder and saw Atra glance at him, then enter the house. Her bride price was probably set at more than his father made in five years. But he couldn’t let it lie. “Sleth blood does not run in Koramite veins. It does not run in mine.”