There was a yell and the emergence of something brown that came careening toward me from out of the corner of my eye. It cost the whole of my balance to avoid, and as the object whizzed by me, I saw it was a cart in tandem with a baker chasing it. He flew after the thing full of bread as it barrelled free of his control. I all but leaped a second foot from where I had stood, yet, I was still barely spared from the crash!

Loaves and rolls burst into the air, and I stumbled into another person—an entire wall, a figure made of shimmery seafoam silk and lighter viridians. The shirt was loose and lined in an ornate, triangular-edged trim—some kind of muted gold.

The Wall yelled a low "Whoa!" as I came tumbling toward him, and all I had to offer in the way of a warning was–

"Oh, shit!" as an awful choke.

He quirked a brow at me, but his hand caught mine, and he pulled me upright. "There you are," he sang, dusting off my sleeves.

"Oh," I huffed. I pressed my fingers to my chin. "God be good. Tha–"

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Um. Yes. I was just thank–"

"Grand." The man nodded and turned around, away from me. With him, his short, jet locks went as well. They contrasted with the palette he wore, like night sky over hills and evergreens.

I frowned. "Sorry," I said, loudly adding, "Am I not allowed to thank you, sir?"

Still focused on whatever he was engrossed with, he gave me the laziest of waves and didn't bother to look at me.

"Aye, good," he muttered.

"Um?" I scoffed, gaping one way and then the other. "Is it good? I didn't even get the word out... Hello? Excuse me?" He didn't turn around. "Ahem. Sir! I said excuse me!" I tried, speaking bolder. "I am trying to thank you!"

I hooked his shoulder, spinning him toward me. As his face found mine, the smile he wore left and twisted into rightful confusion. I didn't know what had possessed me to be so adamant, and for the several seconds we were staring at each other, we shared the sentiment.

"I..." I squared my shoulders. "I am trying to thank you, sir."

"I said good? Aye? Didn't I?" he asked. "You didn't thank me the first time you fell into me."

Another body appeared beside the Wall and scanned him from head to toe.

"Are you alright?" his friend asked.

"Is he alright?" I whined. "I'm the one that was nearly crushed to death by bread!"

They shared a look; then Wall bobbed his head slowly. They bent closer to each other, whispering.

"I'm thanking you!" I reminded him. "The least you could do is accept said thanks... And not.... whisper about me. Is that what you're doing? And what do you mean the first time I fell into you? I– Hang on. Wait, do I know you?"

The second laughed.

"I'm glad you find this funny," I told him.

"Aye, I was there with Whisk," he said.

"What?" I narrowed my eyes. "I... I don't know what that sentence was meant to mean. Look. Your friend here did me a service. I'm trying to thank him for it." When neither of them said anything, I scowled at the pair. "I nearly died!"

"You'd have scraped a knee at best," the Wall said. He had a Southern accent.

"Oh! What do you know?" I spat back.

"I know you're dreadful clumsy," he said.

I frowned. "And you're dreadfully rude. What are you looking at anyway?"

"Right," the Wall said. "By all means, my lady." His hand went into the air to make room for me as I stomped past him. His palm came to settle at his hip, but when I arrived in front of him, I found a fence that barred my entry to an open sect of grass.

I paused. The eight-by-eight stall had been a petting zoo the year before, but it was configured into something else. There was a man bent in half of a line of open wine barrels full of water. The one he was craned over splashed at either side of his face, and the whole scene took me a moment to realize that he was the same person from the evening's first encounter— the sword with the leather trees. Which meant...

"You're that man's friend?" I asked the other two.

One shrugged. "Ain't that what I said?"

"What is he–?" I squinted at the mess. "What is he doing?"

The friend ignored the question to yell beyond me. "Come, Whisk, you can do it!" he declared. He came and stood next to me, cheering or heckling the guy; I couldn't tell. "Open your mouth a little wider!" he called. And then the Wall himself switched places with another onlooker, and he took my other flank.

"What is he doing?" I asked him. "He looks undignified."

"He's apple bobbing," Wall said like I was stupid.

"Go on! Wider!" his friend sang.

"I know what apple bobbing is. I meant... Why doesn't he...?" I tsked, joining in their shouts. "Open your jaw! Like a snake!" I ordered. "It's not a horseshoe!"

Wall snickered. "One might argue a horseshoe would be easier to collect."

I scoffed. "Easier? With a mouth?"

He agreed. "Aye. With a mouth. Or a hand. Or whatever was clever."

"But he has to use his teeth?" I said. "Don't you think a horseshoe would... damage them?"

"Wider!" his friend urged.

"I'm doing the best I can," the man named 'Whisk' muttered back at us.

The poor guy was panting. He wiped his brow, and then he returned to the barrel to start biting rapidly. Madly even, at the water. Finally, I saw the three or four orbs of crimson he was after floating into view.

"Oh! There are apples!" I sang. "Wow. He's really bad at that."

Wall laughed. "What did you think apple bobbing was if not bobbing for apples?" he asked.

"I–" I folded my arms. "I know what apple bobbing is, sir. Did you not–? Whatever. I just did not see the apples right away."

"Uh-huh." He didn't seem convinced.

"I know what the purpose here is!"

His upper lip quivered, threatening to mock me.

"I do!" I repeated.

"It's a game. One must use only his mouth to catch—"

"I know what apple bobbing is!" I cried.

"Alright. If you insist, is this your first Apple Faire, my lady?" he went on.

"Of course not," I spat. "I'm Oreian."

His eyes flickered from mine to my hair, and that delivered a sudden realization of what he was thinking about.

"I am happy to hear you say that," he said.

I blushed. "Y-You are?"

He grinned. "You just seem a little... out of your element, is all. I'm more than willing to explain the rules of any of these games should you but ask."

I rolled my eyes and shifted, but I touched my hair to ensure it was still pretty. "They're– They've got the whole thing set up differently this year," I told him. "It was further back. This was a petting zoo."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. And the game is different, too. They've got the reds in different tanks. Last faire, the apples were in a single horse's trough. I'll have you know, my father was the man wh–" I stopped. If I marked my father as last year's champion, I would be identified by proxy.

Wall's eyes were on my mouth, and I couldn't finish the thought; I was confused. He blinked, slowly returning his attention to my eyes.

"Your father was the what?" he asked.

"...It was... It was different, is all." I felt my lips. "Do I have something on my face? Is it in my teeth? You have to tell me if I do!"

"There's nothing in your teeth," he replied. "Your accent is very thick."

"Oh," I paused.

"It's okay; I'm keeping up."

"Well, now I don't want to talk to you," I whined.

"It was just an observation. Not a complaint."

I tried to think of something to say or a way to change my words. I tried to speak slower than I had before and to make sure my vowels were evident. "Is this your first affair? Faire? Apple Faire? Sir?" But I somehow doubled them in my attempt.

He shook his head. "No. I've been coming for a while. That's how I know the games."

"Have you? How long is a while?" I wondered if I had seen him. If he'd seen me. "A year? Two?" But I knew better. I would have recognized him even if we had only passed. Like his solid frame, the man's face was a fine thing. His cheeks were chiseled like the marble statues of the castle's crypt– a promise of memory. Not one I would soon forget.

On a quicker pass, all of Wall's features were sharp and fair. His obsidian hair was both perfectly straight and wind-swept. His arms were wide and strong, and his deep brown eyes were—

"A few years, now, my lady. I haven't kept track. Most of them since I was young; my cousins live in the Riverlands," he explained.

I waited for anything else. Any other information he would give. "...You have family in the Riverlands? Where?"

"It's a bit northwest from here." He pointed into the sky, not actually north or west, and he leaned onto the post next to us.

"I know where the Riverlands are, sir. I meant, where in the Riverlands are your cousins from? I knew someone from that way once. Still have a few friends. A lot of waterfalls and trees to be seen. You'll find I've been."

"You'd be better off asking Frid which part exactly. I'm not too keen on the area unless I'm on the main road."

"Oh." I linked my hands in front of me. That didn't narrow anything down. The main road cut through the entirety of the Duchy. "I'm sorry. I know most of the names that way, but not sure I know of a Frid?"

"Frid?"

"Yes, your cousin, I assume. You said his name was Frid? Did I not say it right? Frid?" I inclined my head, but he shook his. "Frid?" I tried a different way.

"No, my lady." The Wall gestured to his friend, who was still hollering at the other. Evidently, the man named Whisk had started a second round of bobbing. "My companion is Frid."

"Oh..." I frowned. That gave me nothing. "My lady. My lady. My lady. How do you know I am a lady anyway?"

He glanced over me as if to check his work, "Have I mislabeled you?" but I didn't have a smart response.

"No."

"I didn't think so." He shrugged. "And you did just ask if you knew my family, so I imagine if you are the kind of woman who finds herself at risk of knowing someone based on their name alone, that in itself screams lady."

"Yes... but—"

"Or a gossip, I suppose? Are you a gossip?"

"Pft. Please, sir. A gossip? I could not care less for another pastime. But as it were, you were calling me lady before I asked about your cousin."

"Then I'll comment on your dress," he suggested.

"What about my dress?" I met the waist of it. "This is very much in fashion here. Maybe not where you're from, but here, yellow is the mark of Autumn."

"Aye, and it looks worth the copper it likely cost."

"I— Thank you? My father picked this out, and he's quite fashionab– Oh." My teeth clicked shut. "You're either mocking or baiting me?" I asked. "To see if you were right?"

"No. Baiting you would imply that I needed you to confirm my observation. I certainly don't. I have been quite sure of your status since you first plowed into me over there." He pointed.

"I beg your pardon," I cracked. "I did not plow anything! I fell! And I don't know whether to be offended or flattered that you hold me in such esteem based on basic observations. Perhaps I should play your stupid game?"

"Perhaps you should?" he said.

I glowered over him. "What are you? A– A hunter?"

"Sometimes."

I scoffed proudly. "Well... I like animals."

"As do I." Wall stood, retrieving a spotted flask that was hung at his side. It was fastened with a matching string. One of many odd ends and pouches. "But they serve us a necessary purpose. I do not hunt for the thrill, and I pay the cost for what I take."

The canteen relaxed next to his thigh. I could not help but graze further over the details of everything he wore. I had never seen a man so easily dressed. And finely dressed at that.

"A hunter and... Someone's son, likely. You dress well enough," I said.

"Now I should wonder if I am to be flattered or not," he joked.

"Whichever you prefer," I said.

"And the mouthier you are, the higher your daddy's rank, I'd wager," he added.

I went still.

"Although," he said. "I should confess, your 'oh, shit' might have thrown me had you not been so resolute that I accept your thanks after it."

"How is that here or there?" I asked.

"It's not the mark of a common girl, I think. Many things about you scream 'lady.' You might try harder if you're trying to hide the fact. You're a bit entitled."

In the light of his prodding, I felt exposed and flushed. "I-I'm sorry, sir. That word slipped out. A penalty of growing up around Blades, I would guess. Though I can hardly apologize for insisting you accept my gratitude. It doesn't make me entitled. It makes me polite. Where I come from, when a lady thanks a man, he ...Well, he accepts it."

His face barely changed.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I spat. "Is there something in my teeth?" I rubbed them furiously. "I told Will I didn't want that stupid candy! It's pure sugar and just sticks to everything!"

"You grew up around Blades, eh?" he asked.

I felt the blood drain from my cheeks and go cold. "I—" I started to lie. "That's what they're called, aren't they? The metal things you boys carry around to poke each other with?" I jabbed behind me at his friend's rapier. Then I did a double take of his friend's rapier.

"We just call our knights Ser, where I'm from," he told me.

He gave me a cordial nod, one a gentleman would give the ladies of the court, and just as neatly, he glanced out to watch the game.

"Well," I hurried. My heels scraped against the cobblestone as I adjusted my stance. "Well. Where I'm from, I—" The thought saddled me. "Is he...?" I craned closer to whisper the accusation. "Is that man your knight?"

A knight, I thought.

I panicked as soon as the word had left my lips, half-believing, half-dreading what I'd said to him already. I tried to search his clothes for any sigil, any hint of who I was talking to, of who would be my downfall of any plans I had when he identified me, but for what? I wasn't sure. A bargaining chip? A way to avoid the inevitable moment I was caught defying court and class for a rebound lay?

"I should go," I tried.

"Or," Wall tilted his head, considering.

"Or nothing. I think I see my chaperone," I lied.

His hand appeared on my forearm. It was warm and soft. "Or," he insisted, letting go.

I pouted. "Or w-what?"

He directed me back to where I'd been. "Or you could help me win this wager, and I'll pretend your 'chaperone' is just a chaperone and not a Blade, as I suspected he might be with the armor. It's very dangerous for rich girls like you to wander off from their guards, you know? You ought to stay right where you are."