Kyra's POV:I kept my head lowered as I slipped through the crowd, the edge of my cloak drawn just enough to shadow my face without drawing suspicion. The pack square was louder than I had imagined, louder than anything I had ever been allowed to stand in the middle of. Voices overlapped in a constant swell of merchants calling, children laughing, metal clinking, and fabric rustling, and it pressed in on me from all sides.“Fresh bread! Sweet rolls, miss! Come taste!” A merchant bellowed from my left, waving a golden loaf like a flag while another voice cut in from the right.I dodged a woman carrying a basket nearly as wide as she was, then stepped aside to avoid a pair of boys chasing each other recklessly through the crowd. Every few steps, someone beckoned to me, hands waving, voices rising in invitation, and I felt like prey being subtly circled rather than a customer being welcomed.Still, I kept walking.This was what I had wanted, wasn’t it?Just once, before the wedding. Befo
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