scuttled away in the dark alley. Tristan flicked his hair from his eyes, shaking his head.
“ Merde ,” he said, walking back to the Aubérge , alone and unsatisfied and utterly played by a pitiful spy.
Once in his room, he laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling trying to calm himself. He sure as Hedge wasn’t about to let some stupid informant to the king ruin his plans to discover the Trésor de L’espoir .
In the morning he’d find his porter, then find the diamond … then get the Hedge out of the North.
9.
Sophie
Village Montagne, Gemmes
For all the times Sophie felt stuck by what life offered her, she never felt more trapped than she did now. Backed in a corner she could have easily turned and left, laughed it off with Henri, gone back to making merry … but she couldn’t. The moonstone and the shift in the air terrified her.
“Jou-Jou, wait.” Henri was by her side, as they slipped through the trees. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I am mad at much more than you. Why would my mother never have told me I wasn’t born here?” The words fell from her mouth. In her slip, she realized that bothered her most, that her mother intentionally misled her.
“I’m sure there is some fine explanation, just ask. But, Jou-Jou, you can’t go off with these Bohèmes . It’s not safe.” Henri took a deep breath. “I’m not saying stay with me. I get it, you don’t like me the way I love you. Fine. But forget me for a second, why believe everything Miora says?”
They were nearing the edge of the forest, their village within sight. The cobblestone roads that led to their homes were only a few yards away.
“I just want to believe something.”
“Believe in us.”
“I’m not interested. Hedge. Give it a rest, Henri!” She huffed past him, and her boots hit the road, they were back in the village. She stopped and turned back to Henri, and continued, “You know what, dear old chum. If it makes you happy let’s go ask my mother together. Ask her where I was born. If she gives me a straight answer, then I can dismiss Miora. Because you’re right, I mean, she was a kook with a glass eye, but if she stumbles, if she doesn’t tell me the whole truth, it’s over. I’m doing what Miora told me. Running.”
“Fine, Jou-Jou.” Henri smiled at her, revealing his dimples, and Sophie let out the breath she seemed to be holding. She hated fighting with her only friend.
When they arrived at Sophie’s house, it was near ten o’clock at night. Sophie’s mother sat in a comfortable chair in the living room, knitting a scarf for the winter that wouldn’t arrive for another six months.
“Is that you, Sophie?” her mother called as the door opened. “Back so soon?”
“Yes, just Henri and I.” She remembered the fight they had when she’d left earlier this afternoon. Something about crossing her arms and huffing. She drew her hands to her side, not wanting to prove Henri wrong or right. She wanted only the truth.
The two friends walked in the living room. The living room Sophie always thought of as her one and only home. In the unadorned room she searched for clues that maybe she hadn’t always lived here. Not that she knew what to be looking for. She sat in a chair opposite her mother, patting the one beside her for Henri.
“So what do I owe the honor of your company, Sophie? I can’t think of the last time you intentionally chose to be in my presence.” Her mother looked back at her knitting, as if waiting for a sharp retort from Sophie. When there wasn’t one, she paused from her needles once more. Realizing there was a pained look on Sophie’s face, she set her yarn in her basket and leaned closer.
“What is it, child?”
“I had something I wanted to ask you. I mean it’s silly of course. Just something I needed cleared up….” She brushed her hair out of her face and bit her lip.
“On with it.”
“Go on, Jou-Jou,” Henri prompted. She rolled her eyes at him, bolstered by
“ Merde ,” he said, walking back to the Aubérge , alone and unsatisfied and utterly played by a pitiful spy.
Once in his room, he laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling trying to calm himself. He sure as Hedge wasn’t about to let some stupid informant to the king ruin his plans to discover the Trésor de L’espoir .
In the morning he’d find his porter, then find the diamond … then get the Hedge out of the North.
9.
Sophie
Village Montagne, Gemmes
For all the times Sophie felt stuck by what life offered her, she never felt more trapped than she did now. Backed in a corner she could have easily turned and left, laughed it off with Henri, gone back to making merry … but she couldn’t. The moonstone and the shift in the air terrified her.
“Jou-Jou, wait.” Henri was by her side, as they slipped through the trees. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I am mad at much more than you. Why would my mother never have told me I wasn’t born here?” The words fell from her mouth. In her slip, she realized that bothered her most, that her mother intentionally misled her.
“I’m sure there is some fine explanation, just ask. But, Jou-Jou, you can’t go off with these Bohèmes . It’s not safe.” Henri took a deep breath. “I’m not saying stay with me. I get it, you don’t like me the way I love you. Fine. But forget me for a second, why believe everything Miora says?”
They were nearing the edge of the forest, their village within sight. The cobblestone roads that led to their homes were only a few yards away.
“I just want to believe something.”
“Believe in us.”
“I’m not interested. Hedge. Give it a rest, Henri!” She huffed past him, and her boots hit the road, they were back in the village. She stopped and turned back to Henri, and continued, “You know what, dear old chum. If it makes you happy let’s go ask my mother together. Ask her where I was born. If she gives me a straight answer, then I can dismiss Miora. Because you’re right, I mean, she was a kook with a glass eye, but if she stumbles, if she doesn’t tell me the whole truth, it’s over. I’m doing what Miora told me. Running.”
“Fine, Jou-Jou.” Henri smiled at her, revealing his dimples, and Sophie let out the breath she seemed to be holding. She hated fighting with her only friend.
When they arrived at Sophie’s house, it was near ten o’clock at night. Sophie’s mother sat in a comfortable chair in the living room, knitting a scarf for the winter that wouldn’t arrive for another six months.
“Is that you, Sophie?” her mother called as the door opened. “Back so soon?”
“Yes, just Henri and I.” She remembered the fight they had when she’d left earlier this afternoon. Something about crossing her arms and huffing. She drew her hands to her side, not wanting to prove Henri wrong or right. She wanted only the truth.
The two friends walked in the living room. The living room Sophie always thought of as her one and only home. In the unadorned room she searched for clues that maybe she hadn’t always lived here. Not that she knew what to be looking for. She sat in a chair opposite her mother, patting the one beside her for Henri.
“So what do I owe the honor of your company, Sophie? I can’t think of the last time you intentionally chose to be in my presence.” Her mother looked back at her knitting, as if waiting for a sharp retort from Sophie. When there wasn’t one, she paused from her needles once more. Realizing there was a pained look on Sophie’s face, she set her yarn in her basket and leaned closer.
“What is it, child?”
“I had something I wanted to ask you. I mean it’s silly of course. Just something I needed cleared up….” She brushed her hair out of her face and bit her lip.
“On with it.”
“Go on, Jou-Jou,” Henri prompted. She rolled her eyes at him, bolstered by
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