I adjust my basket and cross my arms. “Please what?”
He watches me for several long seconds, and then he surprises me completely when he tips back his head and laughs. It’s a deep and incredulous sound, something I’ve heard only once or twice since I’ve known him. Once he’s finished, he demands, “Why are you angry with me?”
“Why?” I press my hand over my heart, nearly shaking. This quiet, hurt anger simmers to an instant boil. “Why?”
“Can’t you understand?” he practically snaps, stepping forward. “I would rather rip out my own heart than hurt you, and I know—I KNOW—that if I were to give in to my feelings for you, it would only cause you pain in the future. So, yes, I will deny myself—and you—even though I hate it.” He stops, catching his breath. “But know that I am doing it out of love for you.”
I stare at him, his speech washing over me like a storm. He said a thousand things, but there’s only one word that matters.
Silence cloaks us as we stand on this mountain path, staring at each other. I wet my lips, trying to remember how to form words. “You love me?”
“Brynn…” he says, shaking his head, irritated that I latched onto the wrong part of his spiel altogether.
“Yes or no, Gavin! Do you love me?”
Gavin runs a hand through his hair, looking both frustrated and anguished. Then he meets my eyes, and time stands still. “Desperately.”
“All right,” I say once I catch my breath. Then I turn to leave.
“Where are you going?” he calls, looking about ready to pull out his hair.
I turn back, smiling because I can’t help myself. “I’m leaving before you try to take it back. Or before you tell me, again, that we can’t be together. Let me have this moment.”
He drops his head into his hands and growls—but not before I see him smile.
I head for the manor, feeling light for the first time in days. I step through the door, finding the house to be much warmer than the spring day, and venture into the kitchen, hoping to ask Mrs. Stone where I’ll find Marcus.
But I discover the sorcerer himself in the dining room, staring out the picture windows, past the garden, toward the dirt road. He stands with his hands behind his back, his expression tight. “Was that the guard again? The man who brought you?”
His question startles me, and I look out the window, to the spot where Gavin and I parted. “Yes. He has family in the village.”
Marcus turns to face me. “You shouldn’t associate with him, not when you’re going to be a sorceress. Here’s your first lesson for the day: we are above the common folk. Do you understand? Set aside, higher than nobles or their authorities, answering only to the monarchs themselves.”
I stare at him, desperate to argue.
He must read the defiance on my face because he narrows his eyes. “You do want to become a sorceress, don’t you?”
Looking away, I say, “Yes, Master Marcus.”
“I will send you into the village from time to time, but I expect you to conduct your business and return immediately after. If that man offers to walk you home again, decline.”
Without waiting for an answer, Marcus crosses the room and takes the nails and salt from me. He then leaves, heading down the hall.
“What would you like me to do now?” I call, his harsh words circling in my head.
Marcus pauses. Without turning, he says, “Clean something.”
13
The days go on very much the same, passing slowly at first and then moving more quickly. Marcus sends me on different errands, ones that keep me away from the village. He has me search for various herbs and mushrooms in the forest, stay up until dawn watching the movement of the stars, dust and organize all the books in the library, and do about a thousand domestic tasks Mrs. Stone has already efficiently taken care of.
I feel his eyes on me nearly constantly, as if he’s just waiting for me to disobey his orders. I very nearly have several times.
At night, I lie awake, wondering if I imagined the whole thing. I’m desperate to see Gavin again. A week goes by, and then another.
Thankfully, I’m back in Whiteshire on this warm spring morning. Marcus has been distracted the last few days, murmuring to himself, running his hands through his thick black hair and leaving messy tufts.
My letter to Charity weighs heavy in the basket I carry on my arm. I haven’t had the opportunity or the nerve to send it. Today I have both.
I walk to the general goods shop first to buy the few items Marcus requested, eager to get the task out of the way. The things he asked for aren't even for one of his experiments or projects or spells—or whatever it is he works on in his secluded study. They’re for Mrs. Stone. Not only am I just as ignorant in the matters of magic as I was the day I arrived, but now I’m running errands for the help.
The bell on the door jingles as I step inside the shop. An older gentleman stands at the counter, studiously sorting a pile of buttons.
“May I assist you?” he asks without looking up.
“I’ll just look around.”
Once I’ve gathered my items, I walk to the counter, being careful not to disturb his work. “What day does a carriage come through?”
“We get one every few weeks, but their arrival is sporadic. Do you want to make a special order?” The shopkeeper looks up, finally giving me his full attention. His eyes practically twinkle—special orders must be expensive.
“No, I need to send a letter.”
“Oh.” He looks down again. Two more buttons go into the smallest pile. “Speak with Kevin at the stable. You can leave it with him.”
After I pay the man, I leave the shop and pause outside, wondering where the stable is located. After wandering for a good quarter hour, up and down the street, I give up and ask a trio of boys playing chase between the shops.
“Behind the blacksmith,” one yells, out of breath as he runs past. They race away, hollering and laughing, and I walk briskly toward Brunhilda’s shop. I’m oddly nervous about seeing Gavin. I don’t like how we left things. He’s had weeks to worry over his declaration—weeks to further convince himself we’ll never be more than a lady and her guard.
On top of my fear, guilt sits in my stomach, making me slightly queasy. I should have left Marcus the moment he forbid me from seeing Gavin. But if I leave, I will never see my parents again. I will never be allowed to see my sister or meet my baby niece or nephew.
Yet if I stay, Gavin and I might miss our opportunity.
I pass the local magistrate’s tiny office. The sign says the magistrate is available two days a week, and for only a few hours in the mornings. Past the magistrate’s is a cobbler, and then I come upon the blacksmith. The unmistakable clang of metal meeting metal comes from the forge to the rear of the building. The path I need travels right along the half-wall along the side. I’ll pass right by.
My hands tremble with nerves, but I take a deep breath and turn the corner. I’ve only made it a few steps past the side of the shop when I realize Gavin isn’t even here. A man my father’s age brings a hammer against an anvil, beating a red-hot stick of metal. He’s huge—if not taller than Gavin then at least twice as broad—and he has a black, bushy beard that hangs to his chest. Unable to help myself, I come to a stop, watching him work, absently wondering how many times he’s lit that mess of wiry curls on fire—because it seems inevitable.
Noticing me gawking at him from over the wall, he looks up and gives me a brief nod before returning to his task.
This must be Gavin’s uncle. Unable to help myself, I imagine him and Brunhilda together, two giant people, gruff, abrupt, and madly in love. At least I hope they’re madly in love because the picture is a sweet one.
“Here for more nails?” Gavin says from behind me, making me yelp.
I whirl around to face him. “Why are you sneaking up on me like that?”
He stands across from me, arms crossed, blue eyes amused. He must have shaved last night. There’
s only a light shadow along his jaw this morning, just enough to make him look slightly roguish.
“I left the shop and saw you,” he says. “It’s not my fault you didn’t notice me.”
“We need to talk,” I say quietly, resisting the urge to touch his arm, pull him closer.
Gavin doesn’t answer right away. I glance at the senior blacksmith and find him watching us. As soon as I catch him, the man looks back down, gives his project another good whack, and then places the hot metal in a bucket of water at his side.
“I’m going to the stable,” I tell Gavin.
“I figured, since this path only leads to one place.”
“You’re in a strange mood.” I give him a cautious smile as I pass the workshop, and he falls in step beside me.
“I came to see you last week.” He avoids a boulder at the edge of the path by walking just a bit closer to me. His arm brushes my shoulder, but he steps away as soon as the route is clear.
I look at him, startled. “When?”
He frowns like he’s trying to remember the day. “Four, five days ago. Late afternoon.”
I was likely out, gathering wild mint. Not the mint in Mrs. Stone’s garden, mind you—wild mint. Marcus demanded armfuls of the stuff last week. I have no idea what he did with it.
“Your sorcerer made it abundantly clear I am not to see you again.”
“He said the same to me,” I say quietly. I don’t tell him the rest—Gavin already worries too much as it is. But even though I stay silent, he knows. “He’s purposely kept me away from the village until today.”
Taking our time, we walk toward the stable that peeks out from behind a copse of trees.
“I saw you returning as I left, so I knew you were all right.”
Stopping, I turn and set my hands on my hips. “You saw me, but you didn’t say anything?”
“I didn’t want to cause trouble. Besides, I came to make sure you were well, and I saw you were.”
“I’m not going to stay away from you simply because Marcus told me to.”
“You don’t quite understand this apprentice business, do you?” He gives me a grim smile. “He’s your master. If you want to keep your position, you must do as you’re told.”
I huff out a frustrated breath, knowing there’s truth to the words. But…no.
Making up my mind, I turn abruptly, stepping close to him. “I will be a model apprentice. I will run whatever ridiculous errands Marcus dreams up, stare at the night sky for hours, even scrub the floor, but he will not dictate who I spend my time with.”
Gavin watches me, arms crossed, looking very much like he wants to argue. And I very much want to close the distance between us and see if he’ll wrap his arms around me like he did at our last meeting.
“Gavin,” I say after a long moment, lowering my voice and dropping my eyes to my feet. “I would give it all up—everything—the magic, the position, the luxuries—if it meant we could be together.”
He’s quiet for too long, and I finally pull my eyes from the ground to look at him. When our gazes meet, he says in a tone that’s far too solemn, “I would never ask that of you.”
“You don’t have to ask. I’d give it freely.”
We stare at each other, eyes locked. I wish he’d say something. Anything. The seconds stretch on.
I prepare myself for disappointment—telling myself I’m familiar with rejection and I’ll be all right even if he pushes me away—when he finally says, “You don’t have to make sacrifices to keep me close, Brynn. I have no intention of leaving you.” He leans down, his eyes on mine. “But we must be wise about it. I know what this opportunity means for your future, and I won’t jeopardize it with careless choices.”
Pesky hope blooms in my chest, sending warmth into my stomach and down my limbs. I give him a cheeky smirk. “Define careless.”
“Brynn.”
“It’s not our fault if we happen to be heading to the same destination, now is it? Like we are now? Surely Marcus can’t fault me for greeting you in passing?”
Gavin huffs out what might be an amused breath and continues to the stable, calling to a man mucking stalls when we are near. Horses graze in a fenced-in pasture, and they too look up when Gavin hollers. Deciding we’re of no interest, they go back to their bright spring grass.
“Hello,” the man says with a grin, setting his pitchfork aside. He wanders into the sunshine, dusting his hands on his trousers. He’s Gavin’s age, and his face is bright and friendly as he takes me in. “Who might you be?”
“Brynn,” I tell him, to which Gavin corrects by saying, “Lady Decarra.”
The man pauses as if familiar with my name. He flashes Gavin a questioning look and then bows his blond head. “My lady.”
“I’m hoping you can help me.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He reaches for my hand, but then he looks at his own. He frowns at the dirt and then drops his arm to his side, grinning. His expression borders mischievous, maybe even flirtatious. “My name is Kevin, and I am at your service. What is it you desire of me?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Gavin roll his eyes. I shoot the guard an amused smile and then reach into my basket to retrieve my letter. “I understand a carriage comes through occasionally. Would you make sure this makes it onto the next?”
“Of course. But it would arrive at your destination more promptly if you traveled to Heston and left in their stable master’s care.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“No?” Kevin turns to my guard and gives him a sly look that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Gavin makes the trip nearly every week. Perhaps you could accompany him?”
14
I grew up with Kevin. Not only is he my cousin, but he’s also my closest friend.
I hate him right now.
It was foolish to confide in him about Brynn, but who else am I going to talk to? And he’s family. My mind returns to her vow. Would she truly walk away from everything to be with me?
Doesn’t she realize how foolish that is? I could never offer her the kind of life she’s accustomed to. She means the words now—they were earnestly spoken. But in time, she could come to resent her decision.
“Oh.” Brynn’s eyes move to the nearby horses. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“No?” Kevin prods, giving me a wicked look. “I don’t think he’d mind. In fact, he was just telling me—”
“I’ll take your letter for you,” I interrupt. “You should have asked me.”
“Thank you,” Brynn murmurs, looking somewhat disappointed.
I’d like to ride with her to Heston too, but we both know it’s not possible right now.
Brynn hands me a letter that’s addressed to her sister. She looks like she wants to linger but knows she shouldn’t now that her task is complete. She looks at me, silently informing me she must return to her sorcerer.
I barely know him, but I loathe that man.
Our eyes hold for several long seconds. I hope to convey that I’m still watching over her, staying close but hidden. She hesitates, and I know she’s uncertain where we stand. Finally, she pulls her gaze away.
She gives Kevin a smile before she goes, murmuring her goodbyes, and then she turns on the path and heads back for Marcus’s strange estate.
“You’re in a heap of trouble, my friend,” Kevin says when Brynn is out of earshot, clasping his hand on my shoulder.
I stare after her, fighting the ridiculous urge to walk her as far as the shop, maybe risk going to the edge of the forest. “And why is that?”
“You’re in love with a woman who not only has the bluest of blood but wears an apprentice mark.”
Because I don’t want to lie to a man who is like a brother to me, I don’t answer. I never mentioned love when I talked to him before, but it took him all of five seconds to see it.
Kevin laughs and goes back to his chore, tossing fresh hay into the newly cleaned stalls. “For as long as I can r
emember, all the girls threw themselves at your feet, and I hated you for it,” he says, jolly as can be. “But you never looked at one the way you look at her.”
“I’m responsible for her.” I lean against a post. “And we’re friendly; that’s true.”
“I’m certain the truth is more complicated than that.”
“Her sorcerer forbid us from speaking.”
“Hmmm.” Kevin tosses another pile of hay into the next stall. “You seemed to be speaking today.”
I nod, feeling more pensive than usual.
“Do you think she’s safe there, in that strange man’s house?” I ask after several moments.
Kevin glances up. “Do you have any reason to think she’s not?”
“Not particularly.” Frowning, I let out a slow breath and push away from the post. “I best get back to work or your mother will have my head.”
My cousin laughs as if the idea of Brunhilda coming after me is particularly amusing. I bid him farewell and head back to the forge. I need to put Brynn’s promise out of my mind. She’s in my care—dwelling on feelings only complicates matters.
When I return, I find Garrett quickly patting the bottom of his beard. A puff of smoke rises, and the smell of singed hair lingers.
“Burn your beard again?” I ask my uncle as I slide an iron ingot into the fire.
He grunts out an affirmative and then shakes his head. “Third time this week.”
15
My mind is so full of Gavin, I don’t notice the man lounging against the side of the inn as I pass.
“Sorceress,” he says in greeting.
Startled, I turn. The blond-haired elf pushes himself from the wall and makes his way toward me.
“I’m only an apprentice,” I remind him, thankful our second meeting is in the village and not the forest.
“For now.” He offers me a smile, one that makes him look slightly more approachable. Then he matches my pace, walking next to me like we’re friends and not the most casual of acquaintances.
The Sorceress in Training: A Retelling of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice Page 8