Morning light filtered through the window, painting everything in soft gold.
I sat on the edge of my bed, watching Agnes move around the room with her usual efficiency.
She'd arrived earlier than normal today with her cleaning supplies.
But something was different about her today.
I tilted my head slightly, studying her.
Her usual plain servant's dress had been replaced with something... nicer.
The deep forest green dress.
Her hair was pinned back in the neat style, she'd added a cream-colored ribbon that matched the embroidery.
She looked like she was going somewhere.
Agnes moved to the small table, setting down a wooden tray with a bowl of broth and a cloth-wrapped bundle that probably contained bread.
"Here, young master," she said. "Fresh broth with healing herbs. And I prepared more milk thistle tea for later."
She gestured to a small ceramic cup covered with a plate to keep it warm.
I accepted the bowl, the heat seeping into my palms, brought the bowl to my lips and drank slowly, letting the warmth spread through my chest.
Agnes moved to collect the broom and dustpan, bundling them together.
"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, setting the bowl down on my lap.
She paused, glancing down at her dress with a small, almost embarrassed smile.
"Ah, you noticed. Yes, young master. I'm heading to the market square this morning. We need to restock the supplies."
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"I try to wear something presentable when I go to town. The vendors charge more if they think you're just a scullery maid, but if you look like a proper person..." She shrugged. "They're more reasonable with their prices."
Smart.
I took another sip of broth, an idea forming in my mind.
The market square. That meant merchants, vendors, possibly even traveling traders. And where there were traders, there might be alchemists or herb sellers.
People who might have activated charcoal and moonflower.
And I didn't need to get into the mess of going into forest.
This might be my chance.
I set the bowl aside on the table and looked up at Agnes. "Can I come with you?"
She blinked, surprise flickering across her face. Then her expression immediately shifted to concern. She set down the broom and moved closer, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead like she was checking for fever.
"Young master, you're still recovering. The walk to town is nearly an hour, and the market will be crowded and noisy." Her eyes searched my face. "You're not well enough for—"
"I'm feeling better," I said. "I've been stuck in this room for days. I just... I want to see something other than these four walls."
I let a bit of genuine exhaustion bleed into my voice.
Agnes's brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I understand, but—"
"Please."
The word came out quieter than I intended, and I hated how pathetic it sounded. But I needed this. Needed to get to that market and find something—anything—that could help me survive.
Agnes hesitated, conflict clear on her face. Her maternal instincts were obviously warring with her desire to help me feel better.
I pressed my advantage. "I'll stay close to you the whole time. If I get tired, we'll come straight back. I promise I won't push myself too hard."
She bit her lower lip, clearly wavering.
"I just... I need to feel like a person again, Agnes. Not just a sick kid trapped in a room waiting to die."
That did it.
Her expression softened completely, and she let out a long sigh of defeat. "Alright. Alright, you can come."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you—"
"But," she interrupted, raising one finger, "you're wearing proper clothes and a cloak. It's still cool in the mornings, and I won't have you catching a cold on top of everything else."
"Deal."
She moved to the chest in the corner and started pulling out clothing, a simple tunic in dark grey, trousers that looked slightly less oversized than my usual ones, and a thin wool cloak with a hood.
As she laid them out on the bed, her expression shifted again. This time to something more worried.
"Young master..." She paused, folding and refolding the cloak unnecessarily. "Lady Vivienne might not like you wandering around outside the manor. Especially without informing her first."
My stomach clenched.
Right. Vivienne.
The woman who'd been poisoning me wouldn't exactly be thrilled about me leaving her supervision. Especially if she noticed I was getting better instead of worse.
"Does she need to know?" I asked carefully.
Agnes's hands stilled on the cloak. She looked at me.
"Technically, I'm supposed to inform the lady of the household about any changes to your routine," she said slowly. "But..."
She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the folded cloak in her hands.
"Agnes," I said quietly. "If Lady Vivienne asks where I am, you can tell her the truth. That I wanted some fresh air, and you took me to the market. But don't tell her now. You can inform later."
She looked up at me, those green eyes searching my face for something.
After a moment, she nodded slowly. "Alright, young master. We'll leave in five minutes."
She handed me the clothes. "Get dressed. And make sure you wear the cloak, I don't care if you think you don't need it."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, unable to keep a slight smile from tugging at my lips.
Agnes's expression softened at that, and for just a moment, she looked almost relieved. Like seeing me smile was worth whatever risk this trip might bring.
She gathered her supplies and moved toward the door. "Don't be late."
"I won't."
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
I stared at the clothes on the bed for a moment, then got to work and made my way down to the kitchen entrance.
Agnes was already waiting when I arrived, a woven basket hooked over one arm. She looked me over with a critical eye, then reached up to adjust my cloak, pulling the hood forward slightly.
"There. That's better." She nodded approvingly. "The hood will keep the sun off your face."
"Thanks, Mom," I teased.
Agnes blinked, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I—" She stopped herself and shook her head with a small smile. "Never mind. Come on."
As we stepped outside through the kitchen door, Agnes leaned closer and lowered her voice.
"We're lucky today, young master. Both Lord Aldric and Lady Vivienne left early this morning for business matters in the neighboring estate."
My eyebrows rose. "Both of them?"
"Yes. Young master Victor and Cedric went with them.'"
Relief washed through me.
"That's... convenient."
"Very," Agnes agreed. "Which is why we should return home before they arrive. Understood?"
I nodded. "Understood."
We walked around to the side of the manor where a simple wooden carriage waited, hitched to two horses. It wasn't fancy, no family crest, no decorative paint, just plain weathered wood. A servant's carriage for running errands.
An older man in work clothes sat in the driver's seat, reins already in hand. He nodded respectfully to Agnes as we approached.
"Morning, Agnes. Ready?"
"Yes, thank you, Thomas."
Agnes helped me climb into the back of the carriage. The wooden bench was hard and uncomfortable, but I wasn't complaining.
Crack!
Thomas snapped the reins, and we lurched into motion.
The carriage rolled down the dirt path leading away from the Raith manor. I gripped the edge of the bench, watching the estate gradually shrink behind us.
Trees lined the road, their branches creating a canopy overhead that filtered the morning sunlight into scattered patches of gold. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and earth.
I'd expected the journey to take an hour based on what Agnes said earlier, but—
"We're here," Thomas called from the driver's seat.
I blinked.
Already?
I glanced at Agnes, who smiled sheepishly.
"I may have... exaggerated the travel time a bit," she admitted. "I was trying to discourage you from coming. It's actually only about twenty minutes by carriage."
"You lied to me?"
"I was protecting you," she corrected. "There's a difference."
The carriage came to a stop at the edge of what could only be the market square.
And holy shit.
It was massive.
Rows upon rows of stalls and carts stretched out before us, creating a labyrinth of commerce.
Brightly colored awnings and banners fluttered in the breeze. The air was thick with different scents of fresh bread, roasted meat, herbs, leather, something sweet and floral I couldn't identify.
Vendors shouting prices, customers haggling, children laughing, horses whinnying, the clang of a blacksmith's hammer from somewhere deeper in the market.
I just... stared.
People everywhere. Actual people, moving and talking and living.
Not monitors and error logs. Not the suffocating silence of a crunch-time office at 4 AM.
This was real. Alive.
"Young master?"
Agnes's voice pulled me back. She was watching me with a soft expression, something gentle and understanding in her eyes.
I realized my mouth had been hanging open slightly.
"Sorry, I just..." I trailed off, not sure how to explain.
Her smile widened, and she reached down to take my hand in hers.
"Come on. Stay close to me, alright? It can be overwhelming for your first time."
She squeezed my hand reassuringly and led me into the crowded square.
I followed, my shorter legs working to keep pace with her steady strides. The cloak billowed slightly around me, and I had to adjust the hood when it slipped backward.
Agnes navigated with practiced ease, pulling me along when the crowd got too thick,
Then she stopped at a stall selling vegetables.
I stood beside her, taking it all in.
But I also started noticing something else.
The stares.
They were aimed at Agnes.
A young merchant at the neighboring stall kept glancing over, his eyes following the line of her figure before he caught himself and looked away. Two men near a bakery cart had stopped their conversation entirely, watching her with obvious interest as she negotiated vegetable prices.
Even the old vendor she was haggling with seemed less aggressive than he probably would've been with another servant, his tone was almost friendly.
I looked up at Agnes properly, trying to see her the way these people did.
The forest green dress that brought out her eyes. The ribbon in her neatly pinned hair catching the morning light. The graceful way she moved, confident but not arrogant. The genuine smile that lit up her face when she successfully talked the vendor down to a reasonable price.
Yeah. Okay. I could see why people were staring.
She was striking. Not in an overwhelming, stop-traffic way, but in a quiet, captivating way that made you want to keep looking.
Agnes finished her purchase, tucking the vegetables into her basket, and took my hand again.
"Come on."
We moved deeper into the market, and the stares continued.
A young man started to step forward, his mouth opening as if to speak to her—then his eyes dropped to me, to my hand clasped in hers, and he hesitated.
His expression shifted. Disappointment, maybe? He stepped back and let us pass.
It happened again.
Men would notice Agnes, their interest clear in their body language, the way they straightened up, the subtle adjusting of their clothes, the attempt to catch her eye, but then they'd see me at her side, and back off.
Thinking I'm her kid.
The realization was almost funny. I was fifteen, but this body was so malnourished and small that I probably looked closer to ten or eleven. Young enough that anyone seeing me holding Agnes's hand would assume mother and son, not master and servant.
Though Agnes seemed completely oblivious to the attention, focused entirely on her shopping.
Each time, she kept one hand on my shoulder or holding mine, grounding me in the chaos of the market.
"You're doing well," she murmured as we waited for the butcher to wrap her purchase. "Not too tired?"
"I'm fine," I said, which was mostly true. My legs ached and my breathing was a bit labored, but the excitement of being out, of seeing something new, was keeping me going.
Agnes smiled and ruffled my hair affectionately, completely destroying whatever dignity I might have had left.
"Good. We just have a few more stops, then we'll head back."
A few more stops.
Which meant I needed to start looking for what I actually came here for.
I scanned the crowd as Agnes led me toward another row of stalls, searching for anything that looked promising.
Then my gazed locked onto something in distance and exhaled in relief, as there it was.
What I'm looking for.