Blue had long since stopped hoping the head families would do right by those who needed them most. Instead, she’d taken matters into her own hands.
And today would be a test to see how close she was to succeeding.
Thrusting her hands into the inner pocket of her light summer cloak, she brushed her fingers against the cold chunks of pale yellow metal she’d created after staying late at the shop the night before. It had taken Blue far too long to realize that help for the children who slept in alleyways and foraged through trash in her quarter wasn’t coming from the magistrate, the Gaillards, or even the queen. Once she’d accepted that if she wanted to solve the problem, she was going to have to do it herself, the answer had seemed obvious: she’d use her talent for alchemy to turn ordinary metal into gold.
Ten months later, after more failed experiments than Blue cared to count, she was close. Maybe even close enough to count it a success. She’d know soon enough, and once she could produce gold, she would buy a big home, hire tutors and provide fresh food, and gather up every child she could find so that they could finally do more than just survive.
She reached the northern edge of the quarter and followed a crowd through the gate that led to the market. The square was divided into twenty rows of stalls with small seating areas at the end of each for those who’d just purchased crisp gelleire fish or a platter of fried apple cakes, a Balavatan staple. The center of the square was dominated by a large raised stage, surrounded by benches. Some days traveling theatrical troupes put on shows or brokers auctioned off exotic creatures procured from far-off kingdoms. Other days, magistrates from each quarter brought a prisoner or two up on stage for public punishment, depending on their crime.
Blue looked toward the stage and winced as she entered the field. Nine flags—each with the crest of one of Balavata’s head families—hung from the scaffolding. It was a magistrate day. Last time, she’d accidentally seen a woman get whipped for the crime of stealing silver dishes from her employer. She’d rather not see anything like that again.
Turning away, Blue hurried down the ninth row of stalls toward one of her regular vendors, passing brightly patterned dresses with seashells embroidered along their hems, glittering beaded jewelry, freshly baked bread, and a stall featuring boots from the best cobbler in the city. There was another woman already talking with Maurice when Blue got to his stall, her voice rising as she debated something with the old merchant.
Ignoring them, Blue moved to the back of the stall to examine the crates of seeds, bark, roots, and dried berries that Maurice regularly procured from the fae isle of Llorenyae.
Casting a quick look over her shoulder to be sure no one was watching, Blue let her hands rest on a crate of yaeringlei seeds, feeling the gentle rush of the small magic she’d inherited from her mother tingle across her palms, seeking a connection with any natural thing—plant, animal, or mineral.
If they’d been harvested correctly, the large, pebble-size seeds would leap toward her magic, eager to be used. If the fruit that encased them had been forced from their bushes before they were ripe, the seeds would lie dormant, refusing her advances.
The crate’s wood was rough, and bits of it curled toward Blue’s hands as if eager to be used in her potions. She shot another look at Maurice and his customer, but they were engrossed in their discussion.
The seeds within the crate leaped for her hands, tapping against their wooden home like bits of hail against a window. Maurice’s gaze jerked toward her, a frown digging into the sagging skin between his eyes. Blue stepped away from the crate and shoved her hands into her cloak pockets, a chill racing over her skin as the woman turned to face her, pale skin flushed with anger at Maurice.
She’d seen this woman a few times at the market or when Blue and Papa spent time at the castle, and Blue had no interest in catching her attention now. Dinah Chauveau, head of the Chauveau family, had a reputation for ruthlessly running her quarter and for making life miserable for anyone who tried to cheat her.
She also had a reputation for zealously punishing anyone caught violating the law against magic.
Swallowing hard, Blue gave Maurice and Dinah a wobbly smile and hurried toward a selection of jewels resting inside a locked glass case. Her breath felt too thin, her blood too thick as she turned her back to them and prayed they hadn’t seen anything that could get her in trouble.
“We can resume our discussion of your failure to meet the terms of our contract once you get her out of here.” Dinah’s voice was cold and precise.
“What can I get for you today, Blue?” Maurice asked from beside her elbow. His brown face was folded in on itself, like a grape shriveling beneath the harsh summer sun, and his hands shook a bit with age, but his eyes were as shrewd as ever.
“Pink sapphire!” Blue’s words were too loud, too rushed, and she folded her arms over her chest to give her hands something to do as magic tingled across her palms, reaching for the jewels that Maurice was pulling out of the case.
“I don’t have pink today, but here’s a blue and a white, and both are just as lovely,” he said.
Blue shook her head. “I need pink for the potion I’m working on.”
“I can get my hands on one soon enough and have it delivered, no extra fee.”
“That’s fine.” Blue turned toward the crates and began rattling off the list of other items she needed, an itch between her shoulder blades where Dinah’s gaze rested. Blue hadn’t had a chance to check the rest of the ingredients she wanted to buy, but there was no way she could risk it now.
Maurice quickly wrapped up her purchases and loaded them into her burlap sacks. “Where’s that young girl you use for deliveries and such?”
Blue frowned as she reached inside her cloak for the metal she hoped would pass as gold. “I’m not sure.” Ana should’ve been here by now. She was usually very prompt, and she knew Blue needed help on market day.
“If you can’t carry all these yourself, I’ll deliver the rest later for a small fee.” Maurice’s eyes brightened, and Blue laughed.
“I’ve experienced your small fees before, Maurice. I can carry it all or find a child to help me.”
Schooling her face into a mask of composure, Blue pulled out the chunks of pale yellow metal she’d created the night before. It was almost gold. And maybe almost would be good enough. She didn’t want to cheat Maurice. She just wanted to test her experiment. And if anyone in the market could instantly spot a fake, it would be Maurice.
His eyes narrowed as she handed him the chunks of almost-gold. “Pretty pale for gold.” He held it up to a bar of sunlight slanting in through the roof and turned it this way and that.
Blue flinched as Dinah took a step closer, her gaze on the metal as well.
Maurice brought the metal up to his mouth and bit gently. His brow folded into a frown. “Soft like gold, but the color’s a little off. Where did you get this?”
Her face heated. “The shop.”
It was as much of the truth as she was willing to give them. If anyone realized what she was doing, she and Papa would no longer be safe. Blue would bet everything they owned that one of the less scrupulous brokers who managed the illegal gambling dens throughout the city would be at their door within an hour with a plan to force Blue into working for him. And if a broker didn’t get to her first, somebody else would.