Maybe it was his choice of words, but Amy couldn't stop thinking about what Cassian had said. She replayed the conversation in the moments before she slept and — even if she wasn't too sure — she must've dreamt about it.
Because it was the first thought that woke her up.
She picked up her apron as she walked out her room.
Mrs Fitz was seated in the dining room. She was at the table, same spot as yesterday.
Amy closed the door as quietly as she could, looked up to see Mrs Fitz hadn't heard, and then, with a deep breath, she started walking. She took each step as slowly as she could, on her toes for most of it, and when she was close enough to Mrs Fitz she increased her pace.
She was past her now, the door in sight. She reached for the knob, turning it, but there was a different sound before the door creaked open.
"Amy."
She held the door open, not turning around to look.
"Where are you going," Mrs Fitz asked.
"Out," Amy replied. "To work."
Mrs Fitz sighed. "You'll still go? After everything we discussed yesterday."
"Yes." She turned around this time, to look Mrs Fitz in the eyes, so she could see her conviction. She held her gaze for a tense second before looking away and walking out the door.
"Stop, child." Mrs Fitz called out to her.
She froze, but only for a second. She had no intentions of stopping, whether or not Mrs Fitz liked it.
Mrs Fitz had made a choice for her, but now Amy had another option. Cassian was offering her a way out. She just wasn't sure if she was going to take it yet.
At work that day, all she could think about was the offer. The customers came in droves. It was a good day for work, which was usually a good day for her, when she cared about the coin. Now, she wished they'd stop. That way she could leave earlier, or at least have more time to imagine.
She'd never left the south.
Would the trees be taller up north? Or maybe the stars would shine brighter at night.
Were the clouds even the same as the ones here. Or did Northern clouds have a different hue because of their climate.
The North must be beautiful, like an entirely different planet.
She hadn't even packed a single thing, and here she was fantasising about the places she could go. She couldn't tell the Fitzgeralds. Mrs Fitz would lock her doors until the wedding. Amy was surprised she hadn't done it today. When would they leave?
In the dark of night? Or the break of dawn?
She should've asked him where they would meet.
Every question led to more questions, and now she hoped her lack of interest yesterday hadn't completely discouraged Cassian.
But as the sun started to set, painting the clouds different shades of yellow and bronze, she started to doubt it. Would he not come? Or did he intend to meet her at her home again?
She looked out the window for the third time, scanning as much ground as she could. He wasn't there.
Was that it?
He'd left because she didn't ask the right questions.
How much had she made? Was it even enough to pay back the earnest?
She knew in her heart that it wasn't, that she'd only made a measly 15 copper, but she counted it again. And again. And again. As if, were she to will it enough, it would be double. Or triple. Or at least become the silvers that she needed.
She looked out the window again, for anything, even some kind of sign. But all was the same, just people walking by, going about their own days. Oblivious to the problems of some girl.
Maybe Mrs Fitz was right. Painful as it was, it was time she finally accepted it.
She barely registered the sound of the door opening behind her.
"We're closed," Amy said as she took off her apron. She was done fighting. She might as well go home and get fitted for her dress.
"Good," it was a familiar voice "because I'm not here to buy."
She turned around and saw who it was.
By the saints. He came.
He was panting, breathing hard, like something inside him wanted out. He had a satchel with him, his sword still by his side.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he replied as he walked in and found a seat on one of the wooden stools arranged inside.
"Have you thought about it?"
"You said I had two days."
"Certain... things have come up. So I'll need your answer now." He seemed impatient, more than he usually was.
"Will we be headed north?"
"Yes."
"And you swear you're not lying."
He raised a brow at the statement. She knew why. It was a silly thing to ask, but she couldn't just agree so plainly.
"I swear."
She put her hand to her chin and looked up as if she was thinking about it before she replied.
"Fine. I'll go."
"Perfect." He stood up and walked towards the door before he paused and turned around. "Where is your bag?"
"I don't have them here."
"Them?" he asked.
"I can't pack one bag and go north."
He didn't reply, just stared at her.
"They're at home."
"Okay. Are they at least packed?"
"No."
He raised his hands and put them to his face and stayed that way for a while before bringing them down.
"You're going to go home," he started, "and get your bags packed, and then we leave by sunset."
"Sunset?" She didn't like the idea of travelling at night.
"Why not early tomorrow."
"No. You leave with me tonight, or I go alone."
He was firm when he said those words. Like Mrs Fitz about the wedding. She knew no words could persuade him.
"I'll meet you at your window."
He ran out before she even had a chance to ask why.
And she stood there, frozen. A smile crept onto her face.
She wasn't going to get married. She looked out the window. There was barely any time before sunset. She needed to go now, or she wouldn't even have time to pack anything.