He reached out and ruffled my hair. I gave him the look that deserved, and he smiled.
I leaned down and pulled on my slippers–light, comfortable shoes I preferred to wear while cleaning.
“You’re not wearing your winter boots?” Tibris asked.
“I’m only walking to and from the bakery. Look after Mama, okay? That vision really shook her.”
He nodded. “She’ll be fine, Prisca. We’ll make sure of it.”
A knock sounded on the door, and I jolted. Tibris and I glanced at each other. He pulled the door open, and my heart skipped several beats.
Thol grinned at me. The breeze ruffled his light-brown curls, and he looked so handsome I wanted to sigh.
“Hello, Prisca.”
I managed to smile back. Inane, but coherent. I was getting better at this.
Thol’s grin widened, and he glanced at my brother. “Hi, Tibris.”
“Hey.” Tibris liked Thol, but he still gave him a warning look. I elbowed him, and he rubbed at his stomach with a smirk, disappearing into Mama’s room.
Stepping out of the house, I closed the door behind me.
Already, my cheeks were heating again.
Thol smiled at me as if he found me particularly cute.
It was mortifying, that’s what it was. I wasn’t some innocent, inexperienced young girl who’d never spoken to a man before. I’d had more than one lover over the years. But something about Thol turned me into a stuttering fool.
He stepped closer and clasped my hand in his. His hand was large and warm and everything I’d imagined. “Prisca. Will you take a walk with me tomorrow morning?”
I smiled. After all the time I’d spent thinking about Thol, at least this part was easy. “Yes. I will.”
“I’ll be waiting for you in the square.” With a final grin, he released my hand, tucked his hands in his pockets, and strolled away.
I watched him go, my body suddenly lighter than air.
But reality intruded, bringing me sharply back to the ground.
Thol’s father was head councillor for our village.
He’d traveled to the city multiple times. And according to rumors, he’d even met the king.
The king who would happily burn me alive on Gods Day.
Thol was the kind of man who never walked past a beggar without dropping a coin. The kind of man who hunted—not just for his family, but for some of the poorest families in our village. The kind of man who never used his father’s reputation to make his own life easier.
I could lose myself in fantasies about what it would be like to stay in this village and marry Thol. Both of us knew how to work hard. Together, we’d work until we could afford to live in one of those big houses. Then we’d have children and grow old together. A nice, quiet life.
Except, that life will never happen. Because staying in this village will mean you die. Painfully. And your family too.
My shoulders slumped. Mama was right.
There was no point in even spending time with Thol. It would just make it harder when I left.
The village was awakening as I walked toward Herica’s bakery. Villagers brushed their stoops, gossiped with neighbors, called their children in for breakfast.
I attempted to push Thol out of my mind and contemplated Tibris instead. Poking my nose into his business was the perfect distraction. What was my brother keeping from me with his letters to Vicer? Why exactly had Vicer mentioned Crawyth?
The ruin lay directly inside our southern border—close to the fae lands. Just decades ago, it was known as a place of learning—where those from all kingdoms came to study, to live, to thrive.
Then the fae came. No one knew why they’d turned the city to rubble. I’d heard multiple theories, but the most popular was that the mad fae king wanted the city for himself. When our king chose not to comply, the fae king’s vicious brother burned the city to ashes with his horrifying powers.
Halfway to the bakery, I began shivering. I’d left my cloak at home. I picked up the pace as the bakery came into view. The squat wooden building had been continually patched up over the years, but for me, it was a second home.
Herica would be gone already today after beginning her baking before dawn. I’d clean the floors and surfaces, while Thol’s younger sister Chista sold the remainder of today’s bread.
The bakery door was cracked, and I pushed it open. Kreilor stood with his back to me, but I’d recognize that thick neck anywhere.
Dull panic spread through my belly like mold. “What are you doing here?”
He glanced over his shoulder with a smug smile. Someone moved behind him, and I took a step closer, craning my neck. Chista. Kreilor’s hand encircled her wrist, and her face was wet with tears.