“Oh, what a horrible thing we’ve done!” Idlysi cried.
Farmer May’s voice tore through the morning air. “I know it was you, Wendens! Get back here!”
Idlysi looked ready to sick up. “I told you.” Then, “Sun save us, she’s coming this way!”
Still laughing, I grabbed my sister’s hand and dragged her through the trees, into the greater forest, dancing across familiar trails and raised tree roots. She barked at me to slow down, but I didn’t. The trick to the forest was this: so long as you could see the spire of the cathedral, you would never get lost, so I kept the copper point in my peripheral vision, angling closer if ever it dipped beneath the canopy, dragging my sister all the way.
Like most towns in Helchanar, our greatest attraction was the cathedral on the northeast side of town. It was circular in shape, as celestial things are, with a lily garden at its center and a bright copper spire above its southwest doors. It was built before my time and would surely last beyond it, structured by dedicated, faithful, and forgotten hands. My great-great-grandfather was said to be the one who crafted the stained glass. I paid little attention to it; when one grows up so close to beauty, it is easy to dismiss.
Fortunately, my soon-to-be cottage was close by, so we darted from the trees to its finished walls. Caen sat on a joist of the roof, working thatch into place. He looked up as we darted inside.
A small smile tugged up the side of his mouth. “Oh, Ceris. What have you done now?”
I beamed at him, his attention warmer than the Sun’s own light. “Nothing terrible!”
Farmer May shouted again, far more distant.
Caen frowned. “Nothing terrible?”
I pulled the knot from my muddy dress and twirled, letting the skirt fan out. “Only propped up Farmer May’s scarecrow by her front door. We hardly moved it!”
Caen chuckled, but Idlysi was biting off the tip of her thumbnail, as though terrified Farmer May might run us through with a shovel.
Hands behind my back, I peered up at Caen. “And how are you today?”
“Better than you’re going to be.” His focus returned to the thatch.
I shrugged. “Mother hardly cares what I do.”
It was true, or at least it was true now. She’d been distant all of my adolescence, ever since my betrothal was secured. Simply put, she considered me someone else’s problem. I often felt like a cow whose milk had dried up, simply taking up space in the backyard until someone could sell me for meat.
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
Idlysi began working on the nail of her index finger.
I sighed. On my part, my mother hardly cared, but Idlysi, at seventeen, had yet to make a match. There were so few bachelors around, and since my father was the cathedral steward, he preferred not to take long trips from home, even if it were to secure a future for Idlysi. He’d have to start looking soon enough, but there was still time. Idlysi couldn’t marry for another three years.
It wasn’t long before my mother’s voice came barking through the town. There were only so many places we could hide; it didn’t take a scholar to determine the cottage was one of them.
“Idlysi Wenden!” She trudged toward the gap where the front door would go. Caen passed us a sympathetic look. Idlysi, tears in her eyes, scowled at me before stepping out. I followed, right on her heels.
“Terrorizing Farmer May? Really?” Mother look tired, the lines around her eyes deep. “You are too old for such things!”
“It wasn’t terrorizing,” I said in a feeble attempt to defend our actions. “It was moving a scarecrow from one side of the house to the other. We can move it right back.”
“You certainly will.” But Mother only had eyes for Idlysi. She would have grabbed my sister by the ear, were Caen—and likely a few other villagers—not watching. “And you’ll spend the rest of your day indoors, taking my share of the chores, since you have so much free time.”
I couldn’t bear to watch Idlysi crumble beneath the scolding. And it was only Idlysi being scolded. I had been the mastermind behind the joke. I had goaded her into it.
I stepped in front of my sister, forcing my mother to pay attention to me. “I will move the scarecrow, and I will take the chores, if that’s what you insist on.”
Mother frowned at me, like my presence exhausted her. “Can you not just leave her be?” Then, to Caen, “I’m sorry to drag you into this.”
Caen offered her a warm smile. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Wenden.”