“I don’t think anyone should live forever.” My retort rids him of any pleasurable thought he has. “And that’s if it even exists.”
A finger traces the rim of his cup. “Fear has a knack for persuasion.” He leans forward, tugging on my attention. “I’ve asked you to go on many expeditions for me, and just like all the other times, this one is no different. I need you to team up with Mackall and find the Ivian flower.”
A deep sigh slips out and my grimace meets the desperation in his eyes. He’s asked me to go on several expeditions, most of which are fueled by a blend of power and greed with a dash of wonder. This time is different. He looks like he might wither away if my response is no, and that alarms me.
“Where does he think it is?” My question comes out dry, but I would be lying if I didn’t want to know where the legendary flower resides.
“Farella Isle.”
“Farella Isle?” It is not the place I expect him to say. “Going on a hunt for a flower that may or may not exist is one thing, but you’re telling me it’s located on an island, not only owned by your greatest enemy, but by a queen ruthless enough to kill us on sight?”
My father finishes the contents of his drink once more before slamming the glass down on the desk. “Your one and only task is to find the flower. Let me deal with the Queen of Haymel.”
3
ARIAH
My head has never held itself higher than today. An exultant grin keeps forcing itself on my face, even with me making attempts to hide it. I just denied council, making me the second person in all of Foxhead to ever do so. Knowing they will try to make my life a nightmare should come with fear, but I can’t find it. I’m utterly buzzing.
Walking the cobblestone path of Foxhead Village, I am nothing but smiles. I’m even tempted to dance through the streets, but knowing that’s a foolish move keeps my feet planted on the ground.
Even the air smells different, fresher in a way I never noticed before. My nose picks up on the scent of panicle hydrangeas, along with a mix of honey and rum that escapes Lady Emm’s Sweet Treats shop.
The walk to work is how I imagine taking a stroll through the clouds would feel. A blissful weightlessness, with not a single burden to anchor me to this world.
Drawing closer to the dress shop, I pick up on the not-so-subtle glances of the blacksmith across the road, TristenMarden. He’s a few years older than me and works under the apprenticeship of his uncle. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him, but it is the first time I notice him, noticing me.
I’m surprised the council hasn’t tried to play matchmaker for him. My bottom lip slips between my teeth as I lightly bite down. I wonder if it had been him sitting in there with me, if I would have been more swayed to say yes. Despite the sage green of his eyes that I wouldn’t mind being trapped in, or his smile that holds an obnoxious dimple on his left cheek, I would have still denied council.I think.
Pulling myself from the distraction across the street, I slip through the door of the dress shop. A bell chimes, and I’m bombarded with heat from the lit fireplace in the small sitting area off to the right.
None of the oil lamps are lit and besides the light of the fire, the rest of the shop is cloaked in darkness. Not even the OPEN sign has been turned over, despite the door being
unlocked.
“Mrs. Kimpol!?” I shout, heading to the sewing station at the back of the shop. “Are you here?”
A loud thud from the floor above causes me to jump, nearly knocking over a box of crystal beads that would have taken me forever to clean up. There are more footsteps and then another loud thud at the top of the stairs. Grunts and heavy breaths get closer until a door swings open and a suitcase is tossed into the shop.
“Mrs. Kimpol?” I ask once more, seeing a body emerge from the threshold.
The person descending the stairs jumps back and screams. A package they are holding falls to the ground along with a basket that tips over, causing bread and some dried fruit to roll out onto the floor.
“Ariah,” Mrs. Kimpol says between shallow breaths. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be off with your betrothed.”
My face scrunches as if inhaling a terrible stench. “Why would you think that? I told you I would be here. And why are you still closed?”
Picking up the food that escaped, she sets her things down on the worktable. “If you must be nosy, I decided to close for the day. Rarold and I will be heading to Picktum Creek to enjoy a nice getaway.” Walking around the table, she comes to me. “Ariah, why in all of Ladora are you here?”
She doesn’t have on her usual shop attire. On most days, she wears an ordinary cream dress that suits the deep rich undertones of her skin, with a marvelous mossy-green apron with hand-sewn flowers, created by yours truly. I had originally created it for my sister for her twenty-eighth birthday, but once Mrs. Kimpol caught a glimpse—she twisted me into selling it to her.
Today, she is in a fancy dress as is she has no intentions of working at all.
“I denied them.” I straighten my back and light the oil lamp on the table.
“You did what?” She stops me from walking away. “I heard that they selected Morren Beetlerum for you. Do you know how much that boy’s family is worth? They own most of Foxhead. You mean to tell me you turned that down?”
Dara Kimpol is a sweet woman with a slight obsession for moinlings. Her husband Rarold runs Foxhead Bank and is known to possess quite a bit of coin himself. Dara, like several others in this village, had a marriage arranged for her. She was quite adamant that I take whatever offer they give to me, and now I can see why. Despite not knowing her husband before theymet, they are extremely close, I would have never guessed their alliance was one arranged for them.
