Prince Eric Allen's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Eric stood frozen at her stall while she stacked another jar. She did not look up. "One day," she said. "You work my stall, sunrise to sundown, no whining, no magic. Then we talk." Eric nodded so fast bark flakes fell from his hair. She shoved a heavy wooden birdhouse lamp into his arms before he could thank her. "Hang these along the beam. Don't drop them." Eric tilted his head back at the rustic pavilion's high rafters and swallowed. The lamp was heavier than his ceremonial sword. He climbed her wobbly ladder. He hung one lamp crooked. He hung the next one upside down. A small carved squirrel on the counter chittered at him like it was laughing. Eric laughed back, breathless, and kept working. By midday his hands were splintered. He'd dropped two jars and apologized to each customer like they were visiting dignitaries. The girl watched him from the corner, arms folded, mouth fighting a smile. He carried crates to the mushroom fountain to rinse them and came back soaked. When the sun finally dipped, Eric stood swaying, dirt on his cheek, one lamp still glowing crooked above him. The girl walked over. She studied his ruined silk sleeves. "You didn't quit," she said, sounding almost annoyed about it. "I told you I'd stay." She handed him a single ripe berry from her bin. "Come back tomorrow," she said. "We'll see if you can actually sell anything." Eric bit the berry and grinned. He had earned one more day.