The cold air lashes my cheeks as I weave through thecrowd, my eyes scanning the shops and stalls for any signs of employment.
I spot a bakery on the corner, its windows fogged up from the warmth inside. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air as I push the door open and step into the shop.
Shelves line the walls, laden with loaves of all shapes and sizes—crusty baguettes, round boules, and twisted sweet bread. Behind a polished counter, racks of pastries glisten with sugar and fruit filling. A large stone oven dominates the far wall, its door slightly ajar, revealing the flames within.
“Excuse me,” I say to the baker, a short, stocky man with flour dusting his apron. “I’m looking for work. Do you have any positions available?”
He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on the red circle on my surcoat. “We’re not hiring at the moment.”
I thank him anyway and leave the bakery.
Next, I try the cobbler’s shop. The smell of leather fills my nose as I step inside, and a gruff-looking man with calloused hands continues working, as if he didn’t hear me enter.
I glance around the shop, noting the rows of leather shoes and boots lining the shelves. The walls are covered in tools—awls, hammers, and knives of various sizes. A long, narrow workbench dominates the center of the room.
“I’m seeking employment,” I say, trying to sound confident. “Do you have any openings?”
He doesn’t bother to look up as he speaks. “No, we don’t. Try somewhere else.”
I make the dressmaker my next attempt, aware that this is the position I covet most. For many summers, whenever I had afree moment, I sewed to my heart’s content. Perhaps now, I might secure a post where I can employ my talents.
The shop is well kept, with bolts of colorful fabric lining the walls.
A woman with graying hair and a kind face greets me as I enter. “Hello. How may I help you?”
“I’m hoping to find work,” I say, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Do you have any need for an extra set of hands?”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but I simply don’t have the means to take on another worker right now.”
Disappointment settles in my chest as I leave the dressmaker’s shop. Still, I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, determined not to let this setback crush me.
There has to be someone in this city who needs a seamstress. People always need clothes mended or new ones made. It’s not like everyone is running around naked. Although, that would make for an interesting sight—especially if it were Cenric running around naked.
Oh, how my heart longs to see him, the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with since I was fourteen. I adore his chiseled features, those piercing blue eyes, his long black hair. I shake my head, trying to dispel the tantalizing images.
Focus, Everly.
You have more important things to worry about than daydreaming about Cenric.
I try a few more shops—another tailor, the weaver, even a metalworker—but I receive the same responses: “…sorry, we’re not hiring,” “…times are tough, lass,” “…wish I could help, but I can barely keep myself afloat.”
Each rejection chips away at my resolve, but I refuse to give up. I can’t return to Astarobane empty-handed.
I take a left turn and frown when I stumble upon an alley. The buildings tower over me on either side, blocking out most of the sunlight.
Great job, Everly.
You’ve managed to get yourself lost in a creepy alley.
Mother would be so proud.
Two men stand on the far side of the alley, their voices carrying to me.
“We must be bolder,” the one with dirty blond hair says. “And we need to work quicker to eliminate the army.”
Eliminate?
The other man pats his portly belly as he responds. “Yes. I heard that Hawke is planning to kill Cenric. Then, his entire army will fall apart and run home like the cowards they are.”
