One day a knight happened upon my shop. She held a blade so sharp and so polished, it glinted blindingly even with the dark overcast. She handed me three coins and said:
“Make me a crown.”
Her eyes slate eyes spoke dangerous promises, so out of self-preservation I gathered my white robes and said:
Her black stallion marched her away. My legs still shook beneath my skirts, whether from the cutting winds or fear I knew not.
I used her three coins to forge the finest crown in the nation, fine enough for a Queen.
Years later, in the summer, the stallion returned with its owner. I was sweating, yet I still shook. It was never the wind.
The knight had made a name for herself since I gave her the crown, now dirtied and unshined, leading many a warrior to victory. Now it seems that she wants to lead me to the palace.
“Come with me, your skills may be useful for things other than jewelry.”
Her arm is stretched out. I can make out the chords of muscle beneath the thin sleeves.
Her palm is warm and she grips me firmly as I allow her to haul me upon her mount.
She gives me three thousand more coins and under her guidance, I make much, much more.