Page 20 of A Thief Among Fae

We fall silent, my hands locked in monotonous motions with the rake. Push. Push. Sweat stings my eyes. I want to rip off my dress and corset. “I need a break. You should go inside.”

She rolls her eyes. “I feel fine.” Yet she’s still pallid. Her fingers quiver as she slowly darns another hole. “And you’re not finished.”

“I know, but it’s felt like hours.”

“That’s because you won’t stop complaining.” But she pauses, scratching her stomach. “It itches,” she says quietly. “Do you think men will find it unsightly?” The darning needle trembles in her hand.

A lump catches in my throat. “If they do, they’re fools. You’re the most beautiful woman in all of Avedor.” I kneel before her. “And I’ll find a healer who can mend it. I promise you.”

She averts her gaze and nods. “Mom told me that Sebastian left for Mythos to start a new shop.”

I want to apologize again, but I think she wants to pretend that everything is fine, so I oblige. “Ore prices are rising. He and his mother will make more marks if they have two locations, even after paying taxes in Mythos. There’s not enough traffic here.”

My best friend wants to transition from smithing nails and horseshoes to smithing blades. He reveres bladesmithing as both an art and an act of worship to the war goddess, Rhea. With all the mercenaries, adventurers, and guards in Mythos, he’ll have customers for his stalwart swords and daggers. Here in Nettlerock, no one has a use for more than one blade. Nor could they afford it.

Evie and I should’ve visited him in Mythos, but I don’t know where his new forge is.

“And you’re not going after him. Right?” Evie hugs herself, her gaze lingering on my feet.

It’s still hard to believe that he left me. I envy him. Even though I didn’t tell him when we said goodbye, I think he still read it in my expression. “No. For the last time, we aren’t a couple.”

“But surely there’s someone you like.” Evie’s face lights up. There’s nothing she enjoys talking about more than romance. “Dad said that after you’re married, maybe your house can be right by that big spruce.” There’s an imploring edge in her voice. “We could still wave goodnight to each other from our windows.”

I frown, but I quickly suppress it. “What if I don’t want a house here?”

“Where would you go? Mythos? Dad and Mom need you to farm.”

“Our parents will never stop needing us.” The words taste bitter.

Evie doesn’t reply. She knows we’ll always be needed just as well as I do.

“We’re done,” I announce, setting the rake down. “I’m rinsing off.”

Her eyes light up. “I’m coming with!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am! Help me stand, Cyn!” she commands like a true lady.

I shake my head, grinning as I help her to her feet. I’m glad she’s feeling better.

We stroll between the stone and thatch houses. Chickens strut across the dirt path and young children race by, carrying bundled lumber or livestock feed. They shriek and laugh as if their chores are a game, too young to understand that they’ll be working for the rest of their lives.

As we reach the stream feeding into Mirror Lake, Evie waves to the miller, not bothering to call out over the grind of logs on the track.

I wade into the lake first, sighing as the cool water rinses the stink of sweat and rot from my body.

“You’re supposed to undress first,” Evie says as she steps out of her skirt.

“So? I’m going to wash my clothes later anyway.” I backstroke, then float so the sun kisses my face. We came here all the time as children. I would levitate rocks, and Evie would pool water on them. We’d watch the little waterfalls cascade and pretend that fae sprites might bathe in them. But we don’t know how big sprites are or what they look like. That fae prince must know. He’s probably had all sorts of adventures. A thread of jealousy winds through me.

“Mom says it’s bad luck.” Evie tenses as her toes test the cool water, then wades after me. “The selkies might grab your skirt and drown you.”

I paddle toward her. The ripples wrinkle the deep green reflections of the conifers. “There aren’t selkies in the lake. Someone would’ve seen one by now.”

“One could come from the faery door in the barrow,” Evie argues.

“I doubt it. They abandoned that cavern.” Or Avedor’s soldiers slaughtered them all during the war. The prince did claim that deceased fae don’t leave bodies behind. The thought sends a shudder through me. “Evie, do you remember the stories the elders told us about the fae High Court?”