burst into the trader's dim yard, cloak whipping in the gale. "Show me the fairest gem you've got, Grimwald—no hag, mind," he demanded loudly, coin purse jangling to mask his intent. The trader smirked, leading him past jeering crowds to Ana's shadowed cage. She lifted her head dully, milk-scented air thick, and gasped—those hazel eyes, her teasing neighbor