afford so I could improve my craft. I’ve never seen anyone as happy as he was the moment I told him I sold a novel. Thank you for having my back, honey. I love you.
Continue reading for a special preview of Jen DeLuca’s Well Played, coming from Berkley in Fall 2020.
Simon turned his attention to me, and his brows drew together. “Are you sure about that necklace, Stacey?” His voice was pitched low since he’d dropped the accent and his character. “It seems a little . . . elaborate for a tavern wench.”
My fist closed around the pendant, the dragonfly’s wings digging into my palm. “Perhaps it’s time for a change, then, Captain.” I kept my voice light, almost teasing, so neither of them could see my irritation.
“She has a point,” Emily said. “The taverns are mostly run by volunteers now. Maybe Stacey and I can be different characters next summer.”
“Perhaps.” Simon shifted from one foot to the other as his Faire accent crept back. He didn’t like change, especially when it came to Faire. But Emily looped her arm through his, bringing his focus to her, and the smile returned to his face. “Perhaps,” he said again. Fully back in character, his voice was pure pirate, and he bussed Emily’s temple. “For now, though, I’m due on the chess field. Would you lasses care to join me?”
“The last human chess match of the year? I wouldn’t miss it.” Emily’s devotion was adorable, especially since the chess match was as choreographed as the joust we’d just watched. Twice a day, Captain Blackthorne fought against Marcus MacGregor, a giant of a man wearing little more than a kilt and knee-high boots and carrying a massive sword. And twice a day, Captain Blackthorne lost said fight. But Emily still cheered him on, every time.
I shook my head. “I’ll walk around a bit more, if you’ll forgive me.” I was too restless. The last thing I wanted to do was stand still and watch a show I’d seen so many times I could probably perform it myself.
Emily peered at me with shrewd eyes. “Everything all right?”
“Yes, yes.” I waved her off. “I’d simply like to take in the scenery a little while longer.”
“Of course.” She squeezed my arm in goodbye as Simon doffed his hat and gave me a friendly bow. “Meet you at pub sing, then.”
I had to laugh at that. Emily never made it up front for the farewell show of the day. But hope sprang eternal.
Alone now, I stowed my old necklace in my belt pouch, tied the green silk cord around my neck, and set off down the lane again, my long skirts kicking up dust. I took the long way around the perimeter of the site where we held Faire every year.
It was midafternoon and the sun was still high in the sky, but it felt like the sun was setting on the summer. Many of the shows had finished, but I passed a children’s magic show that was halfway through its set, and I stopped to listen to the magician’s patter for a few moments. Multicolored banners hung from the trees, catching the sunlight as they blew gently in the breeze. A couple of kids ran past me, headed for the lemonade stand. The sound of a tin whistle floated from somewhere nearby.
I ducked inside a booth displaying hand-tooled leather items, inhaling the heady scent. I’d walked by this booth several times but had never explored its contents. Inside, the wire-mesh walls were lined with leather goods—vambraces and belt pouches, as well as modern-day accessories like belts and wallets.
“All handmade,” the attendant said, not bothering with a fake accent. She was my age, dressed in low-key peasant garb: a long, dark green skirt and a loose chemise, pulled in with a leather waist cincher.
“Do you make all this?” I touched a soft blue backpack made of buttery leather that hung on the end of one display.
“My husband and I do, yes.” She bent down to scoop up a small toddler in a long chemise. Even the kids dressed period here at Faire. She turned to greet another patron who had ventured out of the sun and into the cool shade of the booth. But before she walked away she looked over her shoulder. “Anything you like, let me know. You’ll get the Rennie discount: Thirty percent off.”
“Oh. Thanks.” A warm feeling went through me at her words. Not at the discount, but at what it represented.