Startled from her thoughts, Kalet stumbled back in surprise as the horse and its rider came to a halt. Wobbling as she tried to find her balance, she found herself face to face with a pair of flared nostrils, glistening eyes, and peaked ears. The beast's humid breath warmed her face, the putrid stench of rotting food stuck between its teeth wafted into her eyes, producing acidic, stinging tears. The size of the ebony horse petrified her. She noted that if she ever rode such a horse, she would need a catapult to mount it. In fact, to her it seemed as if the rider sat so high, his head reached above the atmosphere, she imagined he must struggle to breath.
With some effort, the rider had dismounted his steed and landed with a thud on the cobblestone street. Kalet observed him, musing she had never seen a man and a horse so alike in air and aura. Standing three heads taller than herself- she could hardly make out the thick, black hair greased away from his forehead and calculating expression masking his face. From her viewpoint, only five feet from the ground, the deep furrow splitting his jutting chin and prominent jaw stood out to her. Although she did not have the stature to look him in the eye, she could feel him appraising her as though she were one of the prized livestock displayed at the town's fair every summer. Self-conscious, she eased back- feeling as spooked and antsy as the beast that danced across the pavement anchored only by its rider's hold on its rains.
A chill crept down her backbone as the silence pushed on. Long since past the point of a familiarizing glance, the gaze had morphed into an appreciative and leering stare. She feared his words would match his expression as she hesitated to engage him. Her surroundings did not offer much by way of security; primarily townspeople residences. Quiet little cottages, abandoned by their residents on market day. Mayhap some of them still housed their elderly, she thought, then conceded as she realized the sun was at its peak: nap time, their own snores would be like cotton in their old, deafening ears. Toeing the cobbled path, she admitted defeat and raised her chin.
"Pardon, sir. I was in such a rush to meet my father at the market- I didn't see you there. I pray you'll forgive me." She spoke, her voice as strong as she could make it. The smirk that snaked over his face discomforted her. Taking his time to respond, he took a final appraisal of her.
"I shall let it go." His foreign voice surprised her. Deep, yet exotic. Another strangely unsettling aspect of the character before her. "Such a pretty little thing- it would have been a shame to see you trampled."
"Perhaps not such a shame- it would have saved me a great deal of embarrassment." She blushed, releasing a scoffing laugh at her own joke. His head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing slightly- a new glint illuminating them.
"A pretty thing, indeed." He murmured quietly, barely decipherable. Clearing his throat, he reached out to offer his arm. "Would you allow me to escort you to the market? Please, do allow me the excuse to keep your company a moment longer."
Kalet felt her blush deepen. Old enough to attract the attention of a man, but too young to be acquainted with many, she had yet to experience the discomfort of a forward comment. She pushed the escaped strands of hair away from her face and ducked her chin, pausing to consider her reply.
"Truly, there is no need. I would hate to explain the story of our encounter to my father. Imagine what he would say, should he hear I have begun throwing myself at horses?" With a small grin, she peered up at him. Nervously smoothing her dress and patting her bun, unwittingly attempting to hide the evidence of their disconcerting encounter. In good humor, the foreign man allowed her the courtesy of a laugh as he dropped his offered arm.
"I see. Well then, simply your name will do."
"Of course," she hid her sigh of relief with a small curtsy. "Kalet, pleased to meet you, sir."
He gave a slight bow and moved to the side of his steed, mounting in a surprisingly graceful movement. Kalet's neck ached as she craned her head back to see the rider's face. "Good day, Kalet. I pray we meet again soon."
Again, his eyes betrayed his interest. Mischief or schemes, whichever it may be, seemed to consume his mind. Unsettled, she half-heartedly wished him farewell. Watching as he pushed his mount into motion with a click of his tongue and the slight pressure of his calves, she refrained from moving until he had ridden well down the cobbled street.
It only took moments for her to realize that it would not be long before he realized her lie. The townspeople were not known for their discretion, strangers often privy to idle gossip. Especially of the mysterious sort. He would simply have to let her name slip, and they would quickly recite their speculations. Kalet's father had not visited town, much less the market, since the disappearance of her mother. His weakening grip on reality made him prone to paranoia and a certain incredulity that thrived in social situations. Once the panic gripped him, she had no way of hiding his behavior, or his deteriorating state of mind. It had only taken a few occurrences of such an event to fuel the already blazing fires of gossip surrounding her family.
Very well, she thought as she continued her stroll, her strange, new acquaintance likely had more important things to concern himself with. His crested sword, fine steed, and garb revealed his societal station. Lords and Ladies from the surrounding territories had passed through the town for days, making their way to the prince's birthday celebration. Nearly all of them had departed in a rush, the morning after the feast. He may have lingered behind, visiting the town before the long journey home. Whatever the circumstances, she doubted she would encounter him again. Although, his parting words, though a common farewell- sounded far more intentional, if not foreboding, than she cared to admit.
It occurred to her that his attentions were not without their merits. Permitting herself the recompense of a daydream, she imagined leaving her current life behind her and running away with the foreign lord to the exotic lands she had read about only in her books. Despite his lack of warmth, he seemed charming enough. Trading love for an adventure, or an escape appealed to her.
Shaking her head, she smiled at her own silly thoughts. Handsome, charming, or otherwise, he had left her imbalanced. More than likely, he had paid the same compliment to many other women before herself and her young brain had exaggerated it in the excitement of the moment. She dared not condemn him based on their first encounter, her instincts likely swayed by the adrenaline pumping through her veins after her near trampling. Perchance, she considered, the adrenaline still affected her, based on her whirling, unwieldy mind.
Resolved to put the strange man out of her consideration, she focused back on her nearly forgotten mission. Her distracted deliberation had led the time to pass by quicker, and she found herself closer to the market than she had realized. Long before it came into sight, she began to smell the pungent odors of fresh cheeses, seafood, and baked goods. The ill-suited coagulation of aromatic breads combined with the sour, fermented smells made her stomach roil. It only worsened as she neared, urine baked in the hot sun onto the hidden cobblestone street corners wafted over her. Despite the stench, she enjoyed the colors and watching the townspeople hustling around their business. Admittedly, the sweet, fragrant florals helped to overwhelm the more acrid odors of the market, making the experience markedly more bearable.
Skimming through the aisles of booths displaying everything from lifeless fish to bright tulips and homemade berry jams, she asked various booth owners and bystanders whether they had seen the wiry boy errand boy with the messy curls. With some surprise, all of them noted that no- they had not seen him since last market day. Even if he had come to town that day, there was a slim chance she could spot him through the bustling crowd anyway. Her only other option required her to make the long trek to the castle.
Preparing herself to give up her search, she gathered a few groceries for supper. Cheese, a fresh loaf of bread, and a small bouquet of flowers to brighten up her empty home. She rarely could afford such luxuries, as her father brought in very little money. Their livelihood relied on a few sound investments he had made in the past, and her ability to sell his barely functional inventions. Fortunately, she had pawned off his most recent inventions on one of their neighbors. Cringing as she remembered showcasing the item to her neighbors, knowing they likely purchased it out of pity rather than interest. The multipurpose tool had inflicted various stinging nicks on her fingers as her father had failed to correct the spring system that prevented the knives and corkscrews from falling back into their sheath. During her sales pitch, she had warned any potential buyers not to allow their children near the tool; or better yet, she scoffed, they best leave it alone entirely.
Holding her flowers to her nose as she prepared to leave the market, she concluded the venture had paid off. Having a little extra spending money to treat herself to such luxuries drastically improved her mood, which she desperately needed on that particular day. Already she felt her desperation to find her mother's book waning, as she planned to spend the evening with her father and make a trip to the castle on the morrow.