was some sort of rabbit. My stomach rumbled. It’d been a long time since the vulture.
Perhaps that was what gave me this headache.
We emerged from the trees. “We are here to trade,” Dagney announced.
The peddlers stood and the camp came alive at her words. Children were tucked away and a fiddler began to play soft looping music as a few cart fronts opened.
Fresh clothing. Was there anything more beautiful?
Dagney followed me. “Grig, can you walk around the carts? I’m looking for healing, armor, weapons, and any gossip.”
“Right.”
I touched a silk shirt, and Dagney led me away toward a few weapons while Grigfen took the other way around. Pumpkin floated after us.
The peddler woman smiled warmly as we approached. She sold weapons: swords, daggers, arrows. Dagney went straight for a battle-axe.
“This looks … fine,” she said, her jaw held tight, as though she were trying to hide how bright her eyes lit when she saw it.
I snorted.
Dagney grabbed a bronze sword. “Be nice, or I won’t get you anything.” She tested the balance, her eyebrows furrowed.
“I like that sword.” I opened my palm so she’d hand it to me.
“Thanks.” The point of her lip turned up. “Find one for yourself.”
But I’d thought … it didn’t matter. Hmm. Which sword?
Ooh, jeweled handle. Beautiful.
“No,” Dagney said, taking the jeweled handle out of my hand. She grabbed a warrior’s sword instead. It was finely made, but … plain.
Dagney studied the wagons. “Let’s get you some armor.”
“I support this mission completely. I will not abide the itching of this foul cloak any longer.”
“Don’t mock my father’s cloak.” The crease between her eyebrows deepened. “Your charisma could really help us get a good deal here. So try to be charming.”
I scoffed. “You think I have to try.”
“Hello!” Dagney said in her prettiest voice. A group of children flocked around us, tugging at my cloak, reaching for my coins.
I touched the Whirligig. “Play mode.” I grinned at the children. “If you hide, Pumpkin here will try to find you. And by Pumpkin, of course, I mean this floating thing and not my adorable companion.”
Dagney scowled, but the color on her cheeks reddened slightly. I loved her blush. Most of her other expressions read as if she hated me, but her flushed cheeks were a tell she didn’t mind my teasing.
I spread my hands. “I am Prince Ryo, lord of three mountains, heir to the Throne of Honor. I come to you, in this my most desperate hour, asking for your assistance.”
The peddlers bowed in subservience. “Your Majesty, you honor us.”
“I hate you so much right now.” The upturned corner of Dagney’s lips told a different story.
“Show us your finest armor,” I said. “For I battle our enemy, the Savak queen. And I need protection from our kingdom’s finest crafters.”
The peddler pulled the edge of his wagon front. This wagon seemed different from the others in the circle. Wider somehow, and on springs closed tight for traveling. The thing wasn’t stuck as much as it was wedged unopened. Perhaps I could help with that.
“Allow me,” I said.
The golden gloves would not come off my fingers. Grig had suggested this was because I was a Royal class, and my duty to our party was to open doors others could not.
The good news, gold went with everything.
I gripped the stuck edge of the wagon with my witch-made gloves and pulled.
The wagon spread open, wide as a ballroom, full of silks and armor and boots.
Dagney held up a purple silk tunic with gold embroidery. “Take this one.”
Good choice. I complied, but not before she threw a worn red belt at me.
I sniffed. This seemed … dare I say it, used. “Is there something in gold?”
“This is cheaper and it’s plus ten accuracy.”
How would a belt affect accuracy? She handed me a yellow-and-black-diamond crisscrossed cape, a black leather breastplate, and a helmet that looked like the skull of a bison.
Honestly. “Have you seen clothes before?”
She sighed. “I know it doesn’t match, but this is the highest stats assembly.”
Grig came from around the other end and burst out laughing. He held a glass jar of hibisi blossoms. “Were you dressed by the rock troll from Witcher 3?”
Whatever that was.
“Style counts,” I said. I returned everything except the purple tunic and scanned the wagon. An ermine fur-lined gold silk cape. A pristine jerkin, fresh violet pants, gold greaves, and a white helmet with a purple peacock feather.
Hello.
Dagney touched the material. “Royal purple. You might be right. The outfit upped your charisma stats.”