The Nameless Trickster by Rebecca F. Kenney EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Rebecca F. Kenney
- Language: English
- Genre: Fairy Tales
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
JULIETTE
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I shield my eyes against the brilliant sunshine, peering through the
colorful hubbub of the market. I can’t see my brother, and that worries me.
Mistress Godward is taking far too long to inspect the loaves of bread I
brought her, which means Prain has had several minutes to escape my sight,
and that’s more than enough time for him to find a whore or a gambling
table or some other luxury we can’t afford.
“They’re perfect loaves, just like last time,” I say brightly, trying not to
let my impatience seep through my tone. “Six bits apiece.”
“Five,” she grunts.
“Six, like always, or I’ll take them to Mistress Andworthy.”
“Fine.” The little woman snaps her fingers at her tall husband, who
hurries forward to pay me, then retreats meekly to his spot at the back of the
booth.
“Thanks.” I walk away from the stall, tucking the coins into my
pocket. I want to keep the incoming and outgoing funds separate: earnings
in my pocket, and the money for today’s purchases in the basket I’m
carrying.
“Juliette!” A familiar voice shouts from a nearby booth.
“Good morning, Ambrew.” I smile at the freckled farmer’s son, who
nearly trips over his feet in his haste to reach me.
“Juliette, I picked these just for you. The choicest blooms in my
mother’s garden.” Ambrew smiles at me, flushed, bright-eyed, and earnest.
“So sweet of you.” I smile back while looking over his head, scanning
the clusters of market-goers for Prain. “Forgive me, but I must find my
brother. Here—take a muffin.” I reach into my basket for one of the applecinnamon treats. Bits of crumbly brown-sugar topping sift over my fingers
as I hand it to Ambrew. “We’ll talk later, yes?”
“Oh yes!” He gives me a rapturous grin. He proposed two months ago,
and my gentle refusal doesn’t seem to have dimmed his ardor at all. He’s
hoping for another chance.
As I continue through the market, another man calls to me—the
fishmonger, ten years Ambrew’s senior and just as keen on marrying me.
While Ambrew appreciates my ample curves and my friendly nature, the
fishmonger appreciates my business sense. Recently he told me about the
pub he wants to open—a place to sell his fish and my bread. The two of us,
running a thriving business. It was tempting… or it would have been if I
were even slightly attracted to him. But he’s too… oily. His hair shines with
pomade—looks as if a bright beam of sunlight might set it on fire.
Besides, I can’t accept any offers of marriage. I’m the miller’s
daughter, the one who maintains Pa’s legacy. With his usual wisdom, Pa left
the mill to me, not Prain, and I keep the place running. I pay the workers, I
deal with the farmers who come to grind their corn and wheat, and I use
flour from our own crops to create the delicious baked
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