Valiant by Sarah McGuire Read Free Book Online Page B

floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, panting. “He does! He sent criers out, and they say that anyone who can defeat the giants gets to marry the princess. Marry her!”
    “You can’t be serious.” I looked out the window. “
He
can’t be serious.”
    How could Lord Cinnan let the king issue such a proclamation? It made the king look weak, desperate.
    Will grinned. “You should ask him if he believes in giants when you bring him his coat.”
    “Don’t be silly,” I said. “This doesn’t mean the king thinks the giant army is real. It means he’s trying to keep the city calm.”
    “It’s more interesting my way.” Will popped up and looked over my shoulder. “That seam’s crooked. You should use a double-back, whip-’em-hard stitch to fix it.”
    It was a game of ours: Will would find imaginary fault with my work and offer ridiculous advice. He’d outdone himself. I laughed until the tears rolled down my cheeks, laughed as if I wasn’t trapped, as if I wasn’t scared.
    Will puffed out his chest, pleased. “I wonder why the king even keeps a tailor who sews so bad.”
    I swatted at him. “Do you want me to stitch your lips shut?”
    He danced out of reach. “Bet even
that
seam would be crooked!”
    “If my seams are crooked, it’s because you distract me.”
    He put his hands on his hips. “You like it.”
    I rested the sewing in my lap, studying the boy. Will had just returned from the fountain, where there’d been no sign of his father. He slept in a nest of blankets under the cutting table and worried about giants. Yet he was grinning at me.
    Poor little man
, I thought,
if this seems good to him. What will I do when he leaves …?
    “I do like it.”
    “I
knew
it!”
    I pointed at some work on the cutting table. “Yesterday, I left you three vests to cut. Not one is ready for stitching.”
    “Can’t cut them now. I’m going giant hunting. That’s what I came back to tell you.”
    I looked at him—that long, slow look that announced he
would
do as I said.
    He picked up the shears. “I’ll go giant hunting after I cut the vests.”
    I bent over my work, absorbed with setting a sleeve, and listened to the whisper of the shears as Will cut the fabric. He often cut out the forms too quickly, leaving ragged edges and lopsided proportions. Yet he did a fine job that morning.
    After a while, he asked, “Do you think I could catch a giant?”
    “There are no giants, Will.” I looked up from my sewing,needle in midair. “Just how do you plan to hunt one?”
    “With Tomas. And rope. He has the rope, so I had to let him come.” Will put the shears down. “See? All finished.”
    He cantered toward the stairs.
    “Make sure you’re back by midafternoon bells!” I didn’t fear giants, but I couldn’t banish the image of the messenger. “And remember what I said: Don’t go past the Kriva.”
    He yelped in protest, but I held up a hand. “I mean it! Set your giant traps close to the river.”
    “But there’ll be people in the fields past the river! You won’t let me go farther than a farmer?”
    “No, I won’t.”
    He glared at me.
    “You’re wasting time, Will lad.”
    One final glare and he was off. The shop seemed the darker for it.

    Will didn’t return by midafternoon bells. I passed the time by imagining the scolding I’d give him. The speech grew longer and louder when I went for bread and found that Will had eaten it all.
    “I have to go out, Tailor,” I announced. “Will hasn’t left a crumb. He should return before I do.” I snatched up a bit of new cheese to eat on the way and trotted down the stairs.
    I was in the street when I heard the shouts.
    “Giants!”
    I shoved the cheese in my pocket and headed toward the gates.
    “In the fields! Giants!”
    “Close the gates!”
    Will’s friend Tomas darted past, wide-eyed with fear. Alone. He held a torn length of rope in his hand.
    “Tomas!” I caught him by the shoulders. “Where is Will?”
    He looked