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Feathers lay scattered across the yard in plumes of brown and white. Egg shells dotted the ground, next to unidentifiable pieces of chicken carcasses. A large, gaping hole stared at her from the chicken coop, tufts of gray fur stuck fast to the jagged metal wires.
Raccoons.
Or coyotes.
Whatever had visited last night had eaten one of the few remaining food sources at her disposal.
But then she rounded the coop to find three words painted on the side. Not paint this time but blood.
Murderers will hang.
The air halted in her lungs as she lost the ability to breathe. Her trembling legs refused to hold her upright any longer, and she collapsed to her knees, the blow cushioned by a pile of white feathers.
A snowflake landed on her nose. And then her eyelashes. She hadn’t brought a coat outside when her trip to gather the few eggs would have only taken a minute.
She didn’t feel the cold.
With her back resting against the side of the broken coop, she buried her head in her knee, leaving her bad leg straight. Her body. Her heart. Her mind. Everything was numb. And not for the first time, she wished she could crumble into pieces and disappear from this cruel, harsh world. But she had her girls to think about.
Girls who she wasn’t sure how to keep fed through the winter, especially with these threats looming over her head.
She had no family left other than her father and brother, who lived in the Attleglade Forest. She hadn’t seen them for fifteen years and had no idea how to contact them. And she couldn’t ask Calle for help.
Because he would give it.
And it would destroy him and the life he had built since he’d escaped slavery and become King.
When she left the castle with her girls, she’d never considered how difficult it would be to keep them fed and clothed. More than once, she had been tempted to ask Calle for help. But she couldn’t face him. It was too difficult for so many reasons.
Despair crashed down on her. Despair and hopelessness and self-hatred. She had brought this on herself. She had no one to blame but herself.
The faintest, jaunty whistle echoed down the path leading to the house. She immediately recognized Joel’s carefree demeanor within the tune. She prayed he wouldn’t notice her.
But the whistling stopped abruptly. Joel inhaled sharply, followed by quick footsteps headed her way. “Nyana. Are you hurt?”
After a slow sigh, she shook her head, keeping her face buried in her knee. “I just want to sit here for a moment.”
A pause. And then something heavy and warm draped over her shoulders. Joel’s coat. Shock stiffened her limbs when she inhaled the warm scents of cinnamon and apple, mixed with something uniquely Joel’s. Gold and mystery and emotion. Something like…like…
Music.
But music couldn’t possibly have a smell. Could it?
He didn’t ask about the hens or the ominous message. He didn’t ask about her position on the ground. Nor did he touch her. Rather, he lowered himself to the ground beside her, sitting with his back against the broken chicken coop.
She slowly inhaled a breath of Joel from the coat wrapped around her and breathed out a river of comforting, companionable silence. Comforting. The foreign feeling shocked her. She could not remember a time when the presence of a man had been comforting.
Joel pulled a flute out of his pocket, lifted it to his lips, and a beautiful melody streamed out of the thin instrument.
Followed by golden magic.
She watched, eyes transfixed, as shimmering, golden tendrils floated in the air around them. Slivers of gold wove around her before they blossomed into magnificent flowers. They sparkled and shimmered as if continuing to sprout on a golden vine.
When she reached out to touch one of the flowers, it exploded into golden glitter and dusted her feet with its radiance. Almost like a sunbeam. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Magnificent.
Her gaze shifted from the golden magic to Joel’s serene expression as he played. His fingers moved deftly over the flute holes, his eyes half-closed as if playing brought him a measure of peace. It was as if his magic transferred to her, helping to calm the storm brewing within her.
“Joel!” two voices shouted, jolting her out of her thoughts. The music ended abruptly, just in time for her two daughters to tackle Joel to the ground.
