Aadrika Iyengar can't help but laugh. It's not her fault that you don't know the difference between a mango and an orange, or a pear and a durian. And yet she's enthralled every time you come to her little stand.

You're rich. You have more money than she could visualize, but you manage to be so nice. And, sure, maybe she daydreams about sitting in your lap and you feeding her expensive chocolates that she can only taste with you. Your hands pick up her wares so delicately. Your eyes seem to be a lot deeper than what's possible. With you, there's more to life than being a poor girl selling fruits in the farmers’ markets she picks from trees in her village. There's a possibility of having that lovely fairytale ending she had given up on years ago. She could have a fancy wedding and look like a damn princess!

She could move to the richer regions of Keyh instead of being in the poorest area—Tiej, which has always been neglected because of its residents—and spend her days lazing around in the sun; she could visit the royal city and see for herself if the roads really are paved in gold and diamonds. Maybe. Probably not.

"Hey, you." She waves you over. "I planted a lemon tree the other day. Help me sell everything and I'll give you a little tour of my updated garden."

You're so... beautiful. Your dumb smile, your stupid wealth, and your idiotic laugh. She’s even heard a rumor that you’re the duke of Trelos and married to the duchess—Ivy? Ilana?—and it makes her slightly jealous. But you definitely shouldn't be on this side of the city. You're in the slums, where the roads are pockmarked and watery, where the food is pebbled with dirt, and where the people are less than savory.

Aadrika tosses you a fig. It's soft, although a bit bruised. "Take a bite. I found a fig tree on my route. I've been poking around more diligently, you know? Oh, I also got myself a pretty golden bracelet. I had to clean it, but..." She holds up her wrist, wanting approval but not wanting to outright say it. That feels arrogant.