Alara talks a lot when she's excited. She's been telling stories since we left the orphanage gate. Something about her tutors, a bird that flew into the castle once, a festival dress she hated, and how she made the seamstress cry because it was the wrong shade of gold. I nod along. I say "hmm" when it sounds like she wants a reaction. But the truth is, I'm barely listening.
The streets are busier now. Villagers carry baskets, sweep their doorsteps, and stack firewood. Most glance up as we pass. Some freeze mid-step. Others nudge each other and whisper. I catch their eyes, the way they look at me, like I don't belong next to her and they're right.
We're near the well when Alara finally stops. She turns, tilting her head at me. "You okay?"
I shrug. "Yeah."
"You're not even pretending to enjoy my stories anymore."
I sigh and look down at my boots. "Why'd you come looking for me?"
She smiles. "Seriously?"
"I mean it."
She squints like she's trying to figure me out. "Did you forget our deal? You help me sneak out, take me to Watcher's Rise, and I don't tell your matron you called my father a weakling."
I roll my eyes. "Right."
"But that's not the only reason I came."
I look at her and she smiles again, this time smaller. "You still haven't taken me up the hill."
"I can't."
She blinks. "Why not?"
I look away. "Because you're the Overseer's daughter. You shouldn't even be seen with someone like me."
She frowns. "Someone like you?"
"A nobody." I shrug again. "Just leave me alone, Alara. Go hang out with your kind of people. Lords. Girls who wear gold and eat soft bread."
She doesn't move for a moment. Then she steps forward and grabs my hand. I freeze as I feel how soft her hands are. She looks up at me, her expression serious now. "Maybe I just met you, Ashen. But I like you. And I like your company. You say things no one else says. You don't care who I am. That's rare."
I shake my head. "You don't know what you're doing. I'm not like you."
She lifts her chin. "Exactly. That's why I want to be around you." Her fingers tighten slightly around mine. "I'm not staying in that stone cage all day with people who pretend to like me. I enjoy being around you. So come on. Keep me company."
I sigh, long and tired. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Nope," she says, grinning now.
I give in and decide to walk with her. And for the rest of the morning, she drags me through half the village. We visit the blacksmith's yard where old Maev, the smith's wife, gives Alara a shiny bronze pin. "For the Overseer's little girl," she says sweetly, before handing me a strange look like she's not sure why I'm even standing there.
Then we pass the bakery, and the baker gives her a warm roll straight from the oven. She splits it in half and shoves one into my hand before I can argue. We visit the cloth shop, where she touches every fabric and insists I tell her which ones are "less boring."
Then the pottery stall, where she makes me hold a chicken-shaped mug while she laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever seen. And everywhere we go, people smile at her. They bow slightly. Call her "my lady." And they all glance at me with the same puzzled, wary look. But she doesn't care. She pulls me along like I belong there. And for some reason I don't understand why I let her.