The market is loud at midday, and I'm not supposed to be here.
Mother thinks I'm running her errands. The fighter trial pin is wrapped in a rag in my pocket, and my lip still hurts when I smile.
Briar: Riona! Get over here before I eat your share and tell everyone you snubbed me.
Briar's stall smells like hot bread and river wind, and Nico is already cutting into a flat loaf with his knife.
She hands me the soft middle and keeps the burnt edge, and my throat goes tight for no reason.
Nico: Eat slow. You look like you've been chewing paper all morning.
Riona: Close. I was sewing paper. It's different.
Nico tucks a strand of red hair behind Briar's ear without looking, and she leans into his hand like it's normal.
Briar: He does that so I'll give him the bigger piece.
They scented each other a season ago. Mates. Nobody at the market laughs at them for it.
I laugh with them and mean it, and under the laugh something small and mean wants what they have.
The market goes quiet, and I know who's behind me before I turn around.
Selba walks between the stalls in her rose dress, Dessa and Kiva at her shoulders, and people find reasons to look at their feet.
Selba: Look at this. The wolfless bitch found somewhere to beg.
Selba: Does Mother know you're out here spreading yourself for market scraps?
She says it loud enough that the fish woman stops gutting and the bread queue turns to stare.
Her hand closes around my wrist and squeezes until the small bones grind together under her fingers.
Selba: You don't get to stand here like a person. You're a stain, and stains get scrubbed out.
I don't pull away, because pulling away makes it worse, and I learned that before I learned to read.
Then she shoves me, hard, and my shoulder hits the stall post and my head snaps back.
My lip splits on my teeth and blood comes hot down my chin and drips on Briar's clean floor.
Kiva: Oh, that's better. Now it looks like it should.
Selba: You want to know what Mother will do? She'll give you to the first man with a copper coin and a heavy hand.
I believe her. That's what keeps me standing still, cold and sure she isn't making it up.
Selba: He'll beat the useless out of you every night until you're glad of a roof and crawling home to kneel.
Behind her, Dessa laughs, and Kiva laughs, and the whole market watches me get smaller.
Then Selba turns, and her voice goes sweet and friendly, which is worse than the shouting.
Selba: Briar. Sweetheart. You've got a nice little stall here. It would be a shame to lose it.
Selba: Stay away from my sister. She's not your problem, and I'd hate to see you lose this stall.
Briar goes white under her freckles, and Nico's hand comes down on her shoulder to hold her back.
Briar: She's my friend.
Selba: She's pack property. Friends don't feed what belongs to someone else.
Selba: One more loaf in her hand and your name comes off the market roll.
She looks at me once more, at the blood on my chin, and smiles like I'm a job done well.
Selba: Clean that up. You're embarrassing the family.
They walk off, and the market slowly remembers how to be loud, and the fish woman starts gutting again.
My wrist is already swelling and blood is drying on my neck, and I don't know what to do with my hands.
Briar pulls me behind the stall and wipes my chin with her apron, and her hands are shaking.
Briar: I'm not staying away from you. She can take the stall and shove it up her arse.
Nico: She can try. We'll sell from the cart if we have to.
I want to believe them. For one bright minute I do, and it feels like being a person somebody picked.
On the walk home my wrist aches, my lip tastes like iron, and I think about mates.
Briar and Nico got a bond that made them kinder. Mine could be a public joke.
I don't know which one is coming for me.