Rich Girls Don't Date King Thrushbeard: Part 1

A trip to the farmers market might be better than Larisa expected.

I would have enjoyed the farmers market if my attendance hadn’t been mandatory.

The day was perfect: blue sky, fluffy clouds, sun shining down on the stalls and the crowd. One stall was heaped with bread that smelled like it had been baked just this morning; another had a rainbow of vegetables on one side and fruit on the other.

Or rather, it would have been a rainbow when the market started. Now, there were some gaps in the arrangement.

The girl standing behind it smiled when she saw me looking at the produce. “Hey, Larisa! How are you doing?”

“Fine!” That was a lie. Mum had criticised my choice of outfit twice before we finally left the house. I’d chosen a black sleeveless top and my favourite pair of red jeans; there was nothing wrong with them, but Mum’s insistence that I wear something else made me uneasy.

I really hoped it didn’t mean what I suspected it meant.

It was only when she realised we were going to be late that she finally gave up and let me wear my outfit. Not that it mattered when we showed up, but no doubt she wanted to make an entrance.

“You know how important our family’s standing in Topaz Coast is, Larisa. It’s vital that we be seen attending as many public events as possible.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Because our family’s standing is all that matters, right?”

She frowned at me. “Your father is a very influential man in this town.” Like I needed reminding of that. “He pays for several scholarships to the sixth-form college. The least you could do is show your support for those students and their families.”

“They don’t need my support, Mum. They’ll just think I’m looking down on them.”

Mum sighed dramatically. “Our family has responsibilities, Larisa. You need to respect that.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m wearing what I like.”

I gestured at the array of produce. “These look amazing!”

“Thanks! Mum’s really proud of them.”

She certainly had reason to be. Most of the produce in Topaz Coast came from Greenfield Farm, and Laurel Greenfield’s magic always made sure it were good.

“Hey.” A figure with wild dark hair and a black leather jacket slid behind the stall. He handed Flora a blueberry muffin. “Thought you might need this.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Thanks, Hayden.”

I excused myself and slipped away to admire some of the other stalls – or at least, to pretend to admire them without looking bored. We couldn’t have the family image slipping.

The stall right next to Flora’s sold a range of pottery: mugs, bowls and different sizes of plates. I picked up a mug with a blue bird painted on it, tilting it back and forth.

The bird’s feathers almost seemed to shimmer in the sun.

“How much is this?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off the little image.

“It’s seven pounds a mug,” the woman said. She looked like she was only a few years older than me, with a playful twinkle in her eyes. “They’re all handmade, and all painted by hand.”

“I’ll take it. Did you paint these?”

She grinned. “Yup!”

“They’re beautiful. You have real talent!”

She took the mug and began wrapping it carefully in tissue paper. “That’s what my family kept telling me. I thought I was going to go into the family business, but it turns out they were right when they said I’d be wasted there. Sorry, I’m monologuing. I tend to do that! Here’s your mug.”

I took the little bag, thanked her again, and kept walking, every so often looking around for my parents.

There was Dad, just walking along and talking to someone in a suit almost identical to the one he was wearing. Quickly, I ducked under the awning of a nearby stall. They walked right past, and I sighed with relief.

He’d better not try and set me up with this guy’s son. In fact, I hoped he didn’t try and set me up with anyone today.

Since my family was one of the richest and most powerful in the area, my parents were determined to constantly maintain a good image. According to them, that meant choosing who got to date their only child. They were always setting me up on dates with boys they thought matched their expectations – boys who came from families with good standing or were related to people who were.

And I didn’t like any of them. They either showed their true colours before the date (which resulted in me saying no), they showed their true colours on the date (which was even worse), or there just wasn’t a spark. Either way, I’d never been on a second date.

Besides, the only boy I’d ever genuinely liked had a girlfriend. Believe it or not, Mum and Dad had tried sending me on a date with his brother. I’d agreed to the date just to get them off my back, but Brendan fancied a girl in his own year and there was no spark between us. That being said, we did have a good conversation.

When I was sure there was no chance Dad would spot me, I stepped out from the awning. A loud – and familiar – tweeting sound made me smile. One of my robins was perched in a nearby shrub, singing as if he had no problems at all.

I held out a hand; he flew towards it and perched on my finger.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I haven’t got anything for you.”

He chirped and flew away again. I began to meander through the stalls again, feeling just a little bit lighter.

That was my magic: birds loved me. It wasn’t ice magic like my best friend Claire had, or fire magic like her boyfriend Blake used, but it was still mine.

“Wow.”

I turned around. A boy stood to my left. He was tall, with slightly scruffy light brown hair with golden strands. He had a broad frame and wore a red shirt with blue jeans.

“Are the robins here always this friendly?” he asked.

“Not to everyone.” Just me.

He stepped a little closer, and my chest suddenly felt warm. His eyes were deep blue, like a river on a perfect day.

“I’m Tyler.”

“Larisa. Do you live around here?”

Immediately, I cringed inwardly. Out of all the things to say, why’d I pick that one?

“No, I live outside Sunset Fields. Haven’t been to a farmers market at Topaz Coast for a long time; is it always this busy?”

I looked around at the crowds. “Yes, it is. Believe it or not, this is before things get busy. It’ll pick up when the hot food stalls open.”

“How soon is that?”

Was I imagining the playful look in his eyes?

“In about,” I said, checking my watch, “half an hour. But the queues can get pretty long.”

“Well, at least that means the cooks know what they’re doing.”

Yeah, that was a playful look.

“I haven’t seen all the stalls yet,” I said. “Have you?”

He grinned, head tilting slightly to one side like a bird. “Not yet.”