Chapter 53

• Ayla
• The rhythmic thrum of the bard’s lute was a heartbeat against the vibrant chaos of the carnival, a constant pulse beneath the joyous shouts and the clanging of games. I leaned against a rough-hewn wooden post. Beside me, Carla, her usually sensible brown braid now slightly lopsided and dusted with glitter from some girls in the crowd, giggled, her eyes wide with amusement.
• We were engrossed in the street drama unfolding before us. A troupe of traveling players, bedecked in surprisingly elaborate, if slightly tattered, costumes, was enacting a boisterous tale of a hapless knight, a cunning dragon, and a surprisingly resourceful princess. The dragon, a man in a rather convincing, scaled suit, roared with a theatrical flourish, sending a ripple of delighted shrieks through the crowd. The princess, a lithe woman with a surprisingly strong voice, parried the knight’s clumsy advances with witty retorts that had Carla and me elbowing each other and clapping.