*Katerina’s POV*

The air hummed with voices as I weaved through the less crowded sections of the marketplace. Buyers and sellers spiritedly haggled over every clipped copper as I peered past them to check if the booths had any of the supplies I needed.

I stepped to the side to let a horse-drawn cart pass and used the opportunity to look around and admire the variety of goods available even in poorer sections of the marketplace. Much farther up the street, the basic essentials and common household goods gave way to exotic wares and colorful clothing.

I gazed in that direction longingly, but even though there was no rule about people walking by and looking, I didn’t want to risk going into those sections in case a mage noticed me. I glanced back the way I had come, wondering if the booths on the other side of the wide road might have a sharpening stone or a sewing needle to replace the one I had broken several days ago.

Near the gate, the crowd parted as villagers and cityfolk alike drew back from the middle of the road. Heads turned to stare at something; even the sellers over there didn’t call out to those around them. Warily, I moved to the side and pretended to be interested in the second-hand knives on display.

The seller was quick to point out several blades. “These are some of my finest steel and barely require any polishing.” As he spoke, his eyes scanned me for clues that might help with this sale. Noticing my heavy cloak, durable shoes, and backpack, he quickly improvised his sales pitch. “But perhaps something like these are better suited for a lady who has to travel. They are light and small enough to easily hide in your clothing.”

A hush fell around us, noticeable enough that even the knife seller looked up and gawked at something down the road. Abandoning my fake interest, I turned around. All trading came to a standstill as those nearby stared at the latest arrival.

The man strutting down the street had his chest puffed out, enjoying the attention and how people gave him more deference than they would have shown the King.

His leather jerkin was smooth and flawless, but it was the green dragon scales adorning his shoulders that heralded him as a dragon rider and made people draw back.

I slowly stepped to the side and hid behind a group of taller people while carefully adding more shields around my magic. As far as I could tell, everyone else was trying to get a better view. Some were even climbing onto crates and carts to see above the crowd. In the buildings overlooking the road, almost every window had people leaning out. The wisest people would have already slipped away.

Not a single trade took place as the rider paraded past. To blend into the sea of faces, I mimicked the curious and envious stares of those around me, although I focused on the building behind him to avoid any potential eye contact.

“Do you think I could be a dragon rider when I grow up, Papa?” a boy asked in a hushed voice, sitting on his father’s shoulders as he watched with eyes wide with wonder.

“Never go near a dragon,” the man quietly instructed the child, promptly setting him on the ground in an attempt to discourage such daydreams. “They’re very dangerous. A dragon killed your Grandpa’s uncle.” He shepherded the boy away before he could protest.

I was in full agreement with the father and surreptitiously scanned the sky and the cliff beside the city. I didn’t see the dragon but that didn’t mean anything. Even here, where no one would dare lay a hand on the rider, the dragon would be keeping track of him, either from the sun-warmed cliff beside the city, by magic, or in more boring situations, simply by monitoring the bond they shared.

The rider finally disappeared from sight, although my heart continued to race from the close call. Not many dragons had riders, but from what I’d heard, most of them had overinflated egos. That sort of person rarely balked at stirring up trouble, and an insult to a rider was often taken as an insult to the dragon, which never ended well.

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“Do you think he’s heading to the castle?” a man in front of me asked the person beside him.

“Where else? I bet the King is running to the front hall now. Imagine having kings at your beck and call.”

“The finest wine, clothing, and meat you could ask for. All you need is a dragon.”

With a snort, the other person replied, “I know a few fools who tried, and they ain’t around no more.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t land right in the courtyard instead of walking,” a woman commented, dusting imaginary dirt off her handspun cotton dress.

“And miss the attention?” A nearby seller asked with a laugh. “Besides, it gives the King some time to prepare.”

“Does this King know how to avoid offending riders?” a trader quietly asked, gripping his donkey’s reins tighter. “I once saw a castle go up in flames, and I’m not about to stick around if there’s any chance of it happening again.”

“They’ve been here before,” a nearby seller reassured him. “Besides, King Lear’s castle is made out of stone. Not much to burn.”

“The last castle was stone too, and it melted like candle wax,” the trader retorted, and with a wary look at the castle on the hill, he led his donkey the other way.

“I still think it would be cool to be a dragon rider,” the first man said idly. “You get to go wherever you want and do whatever you wish. A life of luxury.”

I resisted the urge to shake my head at such delusions. The average person might assume the rider was in control – and the recent man’s swagger and attitude didn’t do anything to discourage such assumptions – but they were wrong. So very wrong.

A dragon was no horse to be guided by rein or bridle. It was the one with wings and also the one who decided where and when they would fly. They had their own agenda, and the rider was just along for the ride. Sometimes a dragon would humor their rider and take them to visit a castle or town, but such events were rare, which was another reason riders were rarely seen.

Voices slowly rose around us as interrupted trades resumed. The knife trader was already trying to convince someone else that his knives were the fairest in the land. He didn’t have sharpening stones, so I wasn’t interested in his booth. I pursed my lips as I thought.

It wouldn’t be hard to trade for a sharpening stone in a village outside the city, and I had seen a booth selling needles near the gate. The price had been higher than I liked, but I could easily buy a couple on my way out. Fortunately, I’d already purchased most of what I needed and the rest of the items on my list were non-essentials.

As the marketplace returned to normal, I decided it was my best chance to leave this place undetected. I’d already taken too many chances by visiting such a large city. All it would take was one accidental elbow bump with a mage for them to potentially discover the sheer amount of magic hidden inside me. They shouldn’t be able to sense it behind my shields, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

Unlike the rider who had just paraded past us, some mages and healers weren’t fond of such attention and regularly put on civilian clothes to blend into the crowds while they went shopping. I might not be able to use my magic, but others could, and my parents had told me far too many stories of “Wellsprings” like myself being held prisoner as a mage’s personal power source.

As if to emphasize the danger, I caught sight of a woman in light green robes on the other side of the street. The healer had a basket slung over her arm as she examined a selection of herbs at a merchant’s booth. Considering how full her basket was, she either didn’t have much power or heavily catered to those who couldn’t afford a true magical healing. In a city this big, there would be dozens of healers and at least a handful of other mages around.

Their magic only generated so fast, and even with the exorbitant prices they charged for their spells, the demand was always higher than what they could supply. In a cruel twist of fate, Wellsprings created well over ten times as much magic as the best mages, yet we were unable to use it for anything other than creating a special shield to hide our magic.

My only consolation was that no one should be looking for a Wellspring since the bloodlines with that ability supposedly died out in the Great War several centuries ago.

Closing my eyes briefly, I double-checked the shields around my magic, making sure the invisible power within me was hidden from anyone who might be using their mage senses. I fiddled with my necklace, making sure the tiny charm was still present and visible.

The theft prevention spell on it warded off pickpockets. It also acted as a decoy in case someone noticed something magical about me. With my shields raised, they would assume the hints of magic were due to the spell on the charm.

With one last glance at the skies, I began slipping through the crowd, carefully avoiding anyone who was dressed in fancier clothing.