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“You look decent enough to show your face in town, but onlyFinnywill be brave enough to give you a smooch.” Jace smirked at Bryn, his verbal retaliation earning him a punch to the shoulder. While Jace was clean lines and ironed to perfection, Bryn had never quite fallen into the same type of style.
Instead, she wore a white linen dress (slightly wrinkled) instead of the drab-brown skirt and tan shirt that matched the boring browns of the world around her. The town all wore their depressing browns, as if part of their culture was to blend into the drab desert around them. If they had always dressed this way, she’d think they just didn’t have the means to trade for fine, colorful fabrics.
The uniform of their uniformity.
Shaking her head at the needless thought, because what could she even do, she chose to wear her decorative brown boots with their intricate beige details that looked like angel wings along the side of each boot. They were one of the few expensive items she owned since she’d invested a month’s wages to procure them from the cobbler. It was worth it since it was her only other choice outside of her work boots that were also brown but not nearly as pretty.
Bryn was also able to tame her curly dark-auburn hair enough to where she could walk without it getting into her eyes and mouth. Not an easy feat on any given day, which was why she never wore it down except on special occasions. Ponytails and braids were a standard part of her daily uniform.
It was rare for her to dress up since she usually spent Founder’s Day hiding in her room with one of her many books she’d pilfered from her friend Niamh. She’d never seen the extent of Niamh’s library, but thanks to the woman, she’d found true joy and escape from her dreary and anxiety-ridden life in the pages of those very books, forbidden as they were.
Niamh seemed to know that as well. Every time Bryn went to have tea with her, there was always a new book on the coffee table.
One of those few friends Bryn had that she found herself thankful for every day.
Bryn watched as Jace tugged nervously at his sleeves, his anxiety overcoming him, and she couldn’t help but smile. She knew exactly who he was thinking about before he even said it.
Sage, the town midwife and one of Bryn’s closest female friends aside from Niamh, would be there tonight. The longest crush she could ever remember her cousin having was on Sage.
Though both of them found each other attractive, neither one acted on their feelings and were completely oblivious to the other person’s affections. No matter how many hints Bryn dropped without betraying their confidences.
The longing in his eyes as he watched Sage walk down Saints’ Road with her medicine bag, the late-night talks with Bryn on how to approach her, yet he always backed away. Watching from afar as she lived her life, including courtships here and there with the men in town. All the while Jace longed for her, and Bryn grew in frustration at the two of them.
As doctor and midwife, they had a rivalry born of mutual attraction and miscommunication.
It was a lesson in frustration. For two incredibly intelligent people, they were both incredibly stupid.
Bryn would watch as Jace worked up the nerve to speak to their friend in a nonprofessional capacity instead of mooning over her from the side of the road. She’d heard stories from Declan and Justin about how the man pined at every celebration, and no amount of good-natured ribbing changed it. Jace just wouldn’t take action.
“Tonight. Tonight is the night I am going to ask her to dance,” he promised, saying it more to himself than her, but she would give him that and not say anything about all the other times he’d chickened out.
She would be nice this evening and not give her cousin anything but a nod of confidence. If she made a chicken noise, well, that was by accident, of course.
Jace narrowed his eyes on her as he put his elbow out, and Bryn took it with a sardonic smile as she stepped out of her own apartment. Both of them knew to use the back stairwell if they wanted to avoid his mother. While he may not know the extent of what happened to Bryn behind closed doors, her aunt Mallory always had to speak up about her expectations for them in public.
Her aunt was to be a wife of the church as much as a wife to her husband, so her family had to fit into that overall picture of domestic perfection. Even her witchy niece.
Neither of them wanted to deal with her and the lecture on what was befitting a follower of Balor, the god the Church of Baleros worshipped. The lecture was always the same growing up. Enough so that Bryn could repeat it verbatim in her head. How to act in public and conduct oneself in the manner befitting a young lady and gentleman.
No drinking. No smoking. No dancing with anyone you do not have intentions toward. Anything fun was for the grown andmarriedadults. Never make a scene. Be seen and not heard. Children were to be a point of pride for their families.
Like a living, breathing trophy of their accomplishments as a parent.
Look at what my genetics made and how well behaved it is!
Stepping out onto Saints’ Road, what was once pavement and brick now broken, sand filling the crevices, Bryn stopped abruptly. Her nerves coming to life and her need to disappear overwhelming her as she watched townspeople walking along, laughing and dancing. Children ran through their parents’ legs as family pets chased them.
Fires burned in tiny pits put in the middle of the road as musicians prepared their instruments. The torches along the buildings were full of enough oil to burn long into the night.
It was sensory overload for Bryn. The people, the sights and sounds, the fear of what they may do when they saw her.
Suddenly Jace was cupping her elbow, avoiding her skin, and helping her to sit on the stairs they’d just walked down.
Why can’t I breathe?she thought as Jace pushed her head between her legs, careful still not to touch any skin.
“It’s all right, Bryn. I promise,” Jace whispered. “Damn it, Justin.”
She knew she wasn’t meant to hear the last comment as Jace rubbed his hand along her back, careful to stay on the clothing.
