By Darkness Hid Read Online Free PDF Page B

parted. “Sir? Truly?”
    “Aye. Truly.”
    Achan stared at the old knight, dumbstruck at the mere idea of owning his own blade. “Wait. Am I really that close to becoming a knight? I thought—”
    “You’re close enough to be publicly declared my squire. And, in case you didn’t notice, most squires have a real sword.”
    Achan had noticed, but he also knew his situation was far from normal. He still couldn’t fathom why Sir Gavin needed him as a squire. He wasn’t doing squire’s work, after all. He’d done nothing but learn from the knight since he’d been recruited. Not that he was complaining.
    All day long, Achan walked tall. He hoped to see Gren—she always remembered Achan’s day of birth in some way—but he didn’t see her. When Poril went to bed that night, Achan snuck out to the Corner.
    A piper was playing a merry tune from his wagon, and several couples were dancing and laughing. A dozen more stood around talking. Mox and a larger boy were wrestling. A grin came to Achan’s face when he saw Mox was losing.
    “Achan!”
    Achan spotted Noam sitting on a stump behind the dancers. Achan wound his way through the crowd until he reached his friend.
    “Look at you, all crisp and stain-free in your new tunic,” Noam said, grinning.
    “Aye, Poril never forgets my day of birth. And he hasn’t beaten me since Sir Gavin came along. Perhaps the gods have noticed my offerings of late.”
    “Well, they’re giving you new boots too, if you can get your feet in them.” Noam held out a pair of brown leather boots. “My feet grow so fast I barely had time to wear these.”
    “Really?”
    Noam nodded. “There’s a hole here.” Noam showed where the heel was separating from the sole. “But I figured Gren could fix it for you, if you ask her nicely.”
    Achan grinned and accepted the boots. His first pair of boots. They would make such a difference on cold mornings.
    “You’re really training to be Sir Gavin’s squire?” Noam asked.
    “Gren told you?”
    “That, and I have eyes. You batting around that waster everywhere you go.”
    “He said he would give me a real sword soon.”
    “Will Lord Nathak give you up then?”
    Achan frowned. He’d never heard of Lord Nathak giving up a servant. Could Sir Gavin convince him? “I don’t—”
    “Achan!” Small hands slid around his waist as Gren hugged his side.
    Her action shocked him. She had never shown any affection in such a public place. He liked how she felt, tucked under his arm. She smelled faintly of fulling water and cinnamon, a strange combination that was very much Gren.
    “Hello,” he said. “I looked for you earlier today, but…”
    She sighed. “More fancy fabrics for the prince. He could order every person in Sitna a new outfit and not make a dent in his stores.”
    “But that would be a kind thing to do, and so not in line with his character,” Noam whispered.
    “Well, he isn’t the only one who can get fabric. I can weave.” She took Achan’s hand and tugged him between the curtain wall and the nearest cottage.
    “Bye, then,” Noam called.
    Gren led Achan as she wove around the cottages until she came to her own. She stopped behind the frame that was stretching a new batch of wool. She lifted something off a hook on the back side of the frame.
    “What are you doing?” Achan asked.
    She shook out some fabric and held it up against his chest. It was so dark behind the frame, Achan could hardly see.
    “What is it?”
    She slapped his chest. “It’s a shirt, silly, and a fine one. Brown, to match your skin. Happy coming-of-age day, Achan.”
    He looked down into her dark eyes and trembled. He had never felt so close to anyone. Her simple act of giving him something unique… and not another orange tunic or even hand-me-down boots. She treated him like an equal, though he was a stray and she the daughter of a craftsman. A brown shirt to run away in and not be suspected of being a stray.
    He gripped her shoulders.