“Ridiculous,” I murmured to Ywena, and she gave an answering titter of agreement from her nest on my shoulder.
“All right, all right!” Vora blew out a huff, then untied her apron. “We’re heading to market. Get yourself cleaned up before we get back, or you’ll be sleeping in the barn tonight.”
Nohr shrugged. “Will make my morning chores all the easier.”
Vora cursed beneath her breath as she grabbed both of my cases—I’d given up arguing with her about being able to carry them myself—and walked out the front door. I followed closely behind her, eager to put distance between myself and the house that had started to feel more like a grave than a home. If I lingered for one more minute between those walls, I feared the visage of Death would return. My time was nearing its end. My purpose... gone, now that my brothers were healed and safe. With each passing day, I felt the lack of control over my existence grow.
I was more powerless than I’d ever been, and I hated it.
Two
Ywena abandoned me for the woods, preferring the quiet of the forest over the hustle and bustle of the town. That left Vora and me to stroll down the main road ourselves. We waved to townsfolk as they headed for market. They were chatting happily among themselves, their laughter and conversations carrying easily in the quiet air. The deeper into town we got, the more crammed the buildings became. But the structures did little to block the sharp fall breeze that had come into Willowfell with us, and I buried my hands in the pockets of my overcoat. If Vora was cold, she didn’t show it. Her gaze was focused on the winding road leading to the center of town where market was held. Where the arch stood tall and proud, just waiting for Evers to tap into the invisible ley line and appear from seemingly thin air.
As we rounded the last bend, the houses shifted to storefronts and the road spilled into an open plaza with rows and rows of tables. The arch stood proudly in the center of it all, with two twisting barren tree trunks that reached toward each other. Their gnarled upper limbs twined together and reached out like bony fingers against the sun. A single crow perched at the highest point, and its head swiveled to and fro as it studied the growing crowd. A caw slipped through its beak as it flapped its wings once.
Our town was small, but more and more traveling vendors had begun to find their way to Willowfell. So when someone I didn’t know joined the boisterous throng for market, I hardly took notice. Except this time, when a woman with deeply bronzed skin knocked her elbow into my side.
“My apologies,” she said beneath her breath, a coy lilt to her words. She kept moving, allowing for only the most furtive of glances in my direction.
With a scowl, I tracked her back through the crowd until she paused at the milliner’s table. She didn’t turn to face me, but I made note of her unique hairstyle—a voluminous, textured quaff with the sides shorn close to the scalp—so I could return the gesture if I accidentally slipped later.
“Coming, Edira?” Vora called over her shoulder.
“Right behind you,” I said, abandoning the woman and my thoughts of well-placed elbow jabs. We maneuvered through the throng of people to find Noam stationed behind a table toward the back near Lysa’s Confectionary. There were certainly better tables to choose, but we’d grown accustomed to this one for a variety of reasons. Namely, Noam’s relationship with Lysa.
“You took your sweet time getting here. I was starting to worry,” he said. His black overcoat was clean, his tousled hair effortlessly brushed to the side so it fell in slight waves about his dimpled face. Since he’d started courting Lysa, there’d been a notable uptick in his desire to look presentable.
“That so?” I asked with a smirk as Vora set the cases on the table. “I’m sure you were entirely concerned about our arrival and not at all distracted with Lysa.” My gaze slanted to the storefront at his back, where Lysa was arranging desserts on silver platters so she could wander the crowd selling her goods. Her honey curls were pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her periwinkle eyes lit with joy as she spied me through the window. She gave an emphatic wave before returning her focus to her pastries.
Noam’s boyish grin said it all. “Had to bide the time somehow. Actually...” His words softened to a whisper as he dipped his head to my ear. “I need your eyes. Let Vora take the first shift at the table.”
My brows crept toward my hairline, but I nodded. “I doubt she’d mind taking the whole day over if I asked.”
After quickly unlatching my cases and letting Vora know I was going to browse the market with Noam, Vora happily took over the table. Noam gave her a tight hug, and then she shooed us away, a wide smile on her face.
“I hope she never leaves,” Noam said with a sigh.
“I hope she does,” I said, shaking my head. “I want her to do something more than take care of others.”
Noam chuckled. “A bit of a projection, I think.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he draped his arm over my shoulders and steered me into the thick of the market. Rows of tables were arranged in perfect circles around the arch, rippling outward in waves with a variety of wares. I was both shocked and pleased to see a few tables dotted with glittering gems that had obviously been drudged up from the mine—and were being sold by the miners themselves instead of immediately being handed over to the town elders. A few people had even gone as far as to try their hand at jewelry making, and I marveled at the polished silver and gold rings and necklaces cradling the precious stones.
I’d heard rumors that Rorik had put a stop to gem collection altogether. Before, Orin had acted as Willowfell’s oppressive mine baron, forcing less fortunate townsfolk to dig in the perilous depths of our surrounding mountains for garnets and sapphires. But the main prize was everjewels, a rare stone seemingly made of pure moonlight. While they had no effect on humans, they granted Evers their immortality and were coveted by their kind. Noam and Nohr used to pray they’d find one for the Ferngloves, so they’d be rewarded with enough coin to quit their work in the blight-infested surroundings altogether.
“What are we doing, exactly?” I asked, nudging him in the side.
Noam stalled before one of the tables littered with jewelry, and his fingers ghosted above a gold ring with a marquise diamond center stone. It was surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds and a few accent sapphires, and it sparkled brilliantly in the sun. “I want to get Lysa something. A promise for our future.”
My jaw fell open. “Are you going to ask Lysa to be your wife?”
“Yes,” he said, his exhale a shaky mixture of excitement and nerves. “I’ve been eyeing this ring for weeks, but I wanted to show it to you first.”
“Noam.” I threw my arms around his wide torso and buried my face into his chest. “I’m so happy for you.”
Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. For so long I’d fought to keep both him and Nohr safe and happy. I’d practically raised them and worked myself to the bone to do it. To see them both finding their own versions of happiness... it was all I had ever wanted. I would do anything for them. I nearly died for them.
And I’d do it all again without question if I ever had to.
