The Lost Queen (Book 1 of The Lost Queen Series)

Chapter Four

Ratha didn't have a shopping district, but it did host a daily open-air market.

The sun had fully risen in the sky over the eastern mountains, making the snow glitter like shards of cut glass, when Papa helped Sterling into the wagon. Seraiah had left for the castle nearly a half hour ago, and now Sterling and Papa were headed to the market for another day of trying to sell furniture to customers who had little interest in such things anymore.

Once Sterling was settled, Papa climbed up next to her, taking the reins and clicking at their old mule to get her walking. Some days, she needed more urging than others to get moving.

Daisy had been pulling their wagon for as long as Sterling could remember. She'd been the one to name the old mule, after her favorite flower that had sprouted every spring in the field behind their house.

She'd loved running through the field, grabbing as many flowers in her hands as she could. She'd always insisted the house be filled with daisies, and even though Papa was allergic, he'd let her cover every surface with large bouquets of them. It was always a sad day when she went out to the field to find the flowers gone, wilted away under the summer sun.

Sterling pulled her cloak closer around her to ward off the chill. Although the sun was shining, the air still had a bite to it. It didn't feel like spring was going to be arriving any time soon, but she hadn't given up hope that one day it would.

One day, daisies would again fill the field behind their little house.

When they reached their stall, Papa hitched Daisy to the post at the back before helping Sterling down. She assisted him in setting up the stall and then gave Daisy a good brushing while Papa made the finishing touches.

Freya, the woman who ran the stall next to theirs, stopped to say hello. She sold clothing items, blankets, and floor rugs that she and her daughters would weave on their loom. Their family had always been a frequent customer of Freya's, buying all their dresses and cloaks from her when they had the coin for it.

"Did you hear about what happened to the Tutson family?" Freya asked Sterling as she folded dresses on a display table next to the stall divider.

"No." Sterling wandered closer to the divider. She could never resist a story. "What is it?"

Freya always knew what was going on with everyone. If you ever wanted to know information about someone, she was the best person to ask.

Freya glanced over her shoulder to where her youngest daughter, Nissa, was laying out floor rugs for display before leaning in toward Sterling.

"Well, they've been struggling for food to feed their eight children. Can you imagine having eight mouths to feed?"

Sterling shook her head.

"The father went hunting in the woods," Freya continued, then glanced at her daughter again before leaning even closer, "and he never came back."

It wasn't uncommon for hunters to go out looking for game in the woods, but they usually returned—mostly empty-handed—but they returned.

"That poor family. What do you think happened?"

More than likely, the man had gotten lost. The woods were dense, and it was easy to get turned around and spend days wandering.

Freya's eyes gleamed, and Sterling knew she had more gossip to share. She could already imagine Seraiah's face when she relayed this latest story.

Freya beckoned Sterling closer until she could feel Freya's breath on her ear as she whispered, "They found pieces of him."