by Shari Cross
“Win what?”
“This argument.”
His laughter picks up again. I look down at the ground, contemplating whether or not I’m too high up to jump.
“Sure, Addy. You win.”
I know he’s only giving in out of amusement, but it’s good enough for me. I settle back against the trunk and turn to face him. “We can ride our horses around the outskirts of the village. Then we can go into the market and I’ll buy you one of those fancy pies at the bakery.” The thought of the peach one makes my mouth water. “Then my mother will make you and Uncle Geoffrey supper.”
“Sounds perfect.” He gives me a crooked smile, his right dimple pressing in. “Are your parents going to the Floret Ball? It’s in a few weeks, isn’t it?” He asks, successfully changing the subject.
“Yes. It’s all Mother can talk about.” I, of course, will be at home watching Elizabeth. You have to be seventeen to attend the Ball, and I‘ll be turning sixteen a little over a month after the Ball, which means I won’t be able to attend this year or next year. But he . . . “Are you going?” The question comes out paranoid and high-pitched, startling us both.
He studies me for a moment, his head slightly tilting to the side. I turn away, pretending to be distracted by the grey bark, my heart beating dizzyingly fast.
“No,” he finally replies. I release a breath, and my body relaxes. I begin to turn back toward him. “You seem relieved,” he continues. The bark once again becomes incredibly interesting.
“No. I’m not relieved. I just don’t think you would have fun at the Ball.”
“Oh, really? And why is that?”
Because I won’t be there. “Because Gregory won’t be there. He’s not going this year because Mary isn’t of age yet, and in case you haven’t noticed, he’s rather taken with her.”
“Believe me, I’ve noticed,” he says, and I finally feel secure enough to look at him. His green eyes are fixed on me. “But John and Walter are attending. I could always go with them.” He continues to look at me, clearly waiting for my reaction, but I set my shoulders and keep my expression completely blank.
“You could.” Yes, he could, and it doesn’t matter if he does. He doesn’t have to experience everything with me. And maybe if I continue to tell myself this enough times, I’ll believe it, and the thought of him going will stop hurting.
“I’m not going. I already have plans,” he says.
“Oh?” My heart picks up again. Plans with who?
“I’m going to spend the evening relaxing at the Troyers’ home, watching a girl named Addalynne read while her sister plays with dolls.”
I let a laugh escape, sending the tension with it. “I don’t remember inviting you over.”
“I don’t remember ever needing an invitation. But for arguments sake . . . Addalynne Troyer, may I please come to your home on the evening of the Floret Ball, because I will not be attending. Oh, and to save us time in the future, I would also like to ask your permission to come to your home on the night of the Ball next year, as I don’t plan to attend then either.”
I lean back on the tree, my eyes closed, a full smile on my face. “I’ll have to think about it.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing while we toss berries back and forth. Drake teases me about my shooting, but I remind him that I’m a much better rider. Whenever we race, I always win. He says this is only because I’m lighter than him, but we both know it’s not.
All too soon the sun is hovering in the west, reminding us that it’s time to head back.
We climb down from the tree and Drake slowly walks to the bank of the river. His face tightens, the way it does when his mind is consumed with thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?”
“My past,” he replies quietly.
“Do you remember something?” I stand beside him, my chest clenching with fear.
“No. But I get a strange feeling when I’m here, especially when I’m close to the river.” His fingers tug through his hair. “Something inside tells me that these woods aren’t safe, and it’s not because of the warnings. It’s something else, something much deeper than that. I feel it in my bones.” As he speaks, he stares across the river and into the fog on the southern side, his mind entirely consumed. “Do you feel it, too?”
I shake my head while I pull at my thoughts, trying to think of something to say. His mind may not remember, but his body is clearly reacting to whatever happened to him before he fell into the river. But that’s not something I can share with him.
“It’s probably because this is where you almost drowned, and you’re reliving that fear.” There. It’s the partial truth. “This side of the forest is safe.” I speak in the most reassuring voice I can manage, hoping we can move on from this.
“I don’t know that you’re right, Addy.” He moves along the edge of the river, and I have to quicken my pace to keep up, trailing several feet behind him.
“You won’t stop coming in here with me, though, will you?” I call out. He stops walking and turns to face me. His eyes are dark and intent, his cheeks slightly flushed.
“No. I’ll still come with you, but you have to promise me that you will always wait for me.” His eyes search mine. “Do not come here without me.” His voice is stern and unwavering, leaving me no room to argue with him, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.
“I’ll always wait for you, by the gate. I won’t come into the woods alone. I promise.”
His shoulders visibly relax, but his attention goes back to the river. I know him well enough to see the inner battle that’s still waging inside him.
“There’s something else you’re not saying.” Fears grasp muffles my words, making them come out as little more than a whisper.
“I just wish I could remember something, anything, about my past. Why was I in the river? Did I run away from home? Did I have some sort of accident? Did someone . . .”
I place my hand on his shoulder. He turns his head and his eyes find mine. The sorrow and desperation in them almost makes me tell him the truth about that day, but then I remember what that truth means and where it will lead him, so I shove the temptation back down inside me and close the door.
“You can’t think that way, Drake. Just focus on what you have. You’re happy here, aren’t you?” I say, hoping he wants the life he has more than the life he lost.
“I am, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But sometimes this life feels like a lie.”
My hand drops from his shoulder and I take an involuntary step back. “How could you say that? All the love we give you, all the time we spend together. None of that is a lie.”
“All of that may be real, Addy, but I’m taking on a life that isn’t really mine. I’m joining a family that isn’t blood. And the fact that I’m so happy here makes it even worse.”
“How could that make it worse?”
“Because it makes me never want to leave. And when I find myself lying awake at night, smiling about something that happened that day, I can’t help but think about the mother and father I left behind. I’m happy and smiling, and they could still be miserable and worried about me. How can I accept a brand new life when I don’t know what I left behind in the old one?”
My heart races, as though it’s searching for a resolution, one that will calm him and keep him here. “Because what if you left the old one behind for a reason?” I begin. “What if you ran away? What if your real family was hurting you?”
“What if they loved me?”
We stand in silence for what feels like an eternity. “I can’t speak for them, Drake,” I finally say, praying my words are enough. That I am enough. “But I love you, my parents love you, Gregory loves you, Elizabeth loves you, Uncle Geoffrey loves you. He’s taken you into his home and has raised you as his own son, loving you just as much as he would love his own blood. Isn’t that enough?”
Drake closes the space between us
and takes my face in his hands. His eyes are burning with emotions, and after several agonizing seconds, he finally speaks. “It’s more than enough. And that’s why it scares me.”
“Don’t let it scare you! Don’t let this fear take you away from me!”
He drops his hands from my face and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him. “I’m not going anywhere. Like I’ve told you before. There’s nowhere for me to go. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I just have to battle with my guilt occasionally, but don’t worry. I’m fine.” He pulls back and looks into my eyes. His face is wearing a smile, but I can’t tell if it’s a mask. “Now let’s get you home.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?” I ask.
“I just spent the day watching you fail horribly at shooting a bow for the first time. How could I possibly be any better?”
I shove him playfully. He wraps his hand around mine and gives it a comforting squeeze before leading us toward the village.
As we approach the grey stone wall in front of my home, Drake pulls me into his arms. He hugs me tightly and rests his chin on top of my head.
“I’ll meet you at the wall in front of the woods again tomorrow morning,” he says before slowly pulling away. He takes a slight step back and his gaze settles on my face. He raises his arm up to ruffle the top of my hair, as he always does, but as his hand reaches up, he pauses. Something resembling confusion or worry passes along his features and instead, his hand gently cups my cheek, his thumb tracing along my skin. “Good night, Addy,” he says quietly, his gaze drifting to the ground.
Before I have a chance to respond, he drops his hand and turns away. I watch him walk toward the road, his hands stiff at his sides, my cheek tingling, my heart unsteady.
“Good night,” passes through my lips on the current of a shivering breath.
Chapter 7
HER
“Ouch!” I jump as the needle pierces my skin.
“Are you all right?” Mother asks while she rubs the side of my stomach.
“I’m fine. It didn’t really hurt. It just startled me.”
“Good. I’m sorry, but I did tell you to keep still. You’re always fidgeting.” She sighs and continues sewing the side of my dress.
I glance down at her and watch her work. The needle is pressed between her pursed lips as her blue eyes study the seam she’s working on, her eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Several delicate braids wrap around her head, entwining her red curls in an elaborate spiral. Just imagining the time it took exhausts me.
Mother grabs the light blue fabric of the dress with one hand and removes the needle from her mouth with the other.
“Now don’t move, Addalynne. I’m going to sew the last few stitches. If you need to take a breath, now is the time to do it.”
I laugh and take one last breath before letting it out and holding my body as still as a statue. After a few seconds, Mother pats me on the back.
“There. It’s all done. Now take it off.”
I watch as Mother flips it around, so that the seams are on the inside, before pulling it back over my head and walking me toward the mirror.
It really is beautiful. The color matches the blue of the sky and compliments my fair skin. The wide sleeves fall past my wrists, the material draping several inches beyond my hands. The fitted top has a square neckline that sits rather low and hugs my curves, displaying the fact that I’m no longer a little girl. The top leads down to my lower hips where the dress slightly billows out into a full skirt. Around my hips there’s a thin, silver rope acting as a belt. A dagger would sit so nicely there.
“Thank you, Mother. It’s beautiful.”
“You’re the one who makes it beautiful,” she says with a smile. “Now tell me, have you given some thought to our conversation?”
I move away from the mirror and walk toward the window, feeling the early stirrings of agitation.
“You’ll be of age in less than a year, Addalynne.”
“I know, Mother. You never fail to remind me.” I reply curtly while staring toward the trees, counting the green leaves that are dancing in the wind. Anything is better than having this conversation.
“That’s because this is important, Addalynne. Marriage is not like one of your books that you can just discard when you get bored.”
Marriage. How can I possibly even think about marriage. “I know it’s important, Mother.”
“And yet you continue to put me off.”
“Well, I don’t know why you’re pushing me about this. As you said, I have almost a year.”
“That’s little time if you want much of a choice.”
A humorless chuckle escapes my lips. “I was under the impression that women weren’t given much choice in this.”
“That’s not always true. I chose your father.”
“After he chose you.”
“Well, yes, but I still chose him in return. And I was lucky. You shouldn’t wait until there’s no time left. Then you will be left with little choice. Unless . . . unless you’ve already made it.”
“What would possibly give you the impression that I’ve made it?”
“Come now, Addalynne. I’m not that naive. You and Drake . . .”
I spin around to face her. She’s sitting on my bed, her hands folded calmly in her lap, one eyebrow raised in speculation. I cross my arms in front of me. “What are you implying?”
“You spend every day together and—”
“We do not! I spend plenty of time with Mary!” This isn’t entirely true, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of being right. Besides, it doesn’t matter if we spend every day together.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware you were still spending time with the Bradlock girl,” Mother replies, her face pinching with surprise. Good. Maybe now I can keep the conversation off me, and on the relationship between Gregory and Mary, which my mother is not yet aware of. I open my mouth to tell her, but she speaks first. “How does Drake feel about her diverting your time away from him?”
“He doesn’t care. Why would he?”
Mother shakes her head and laughs to herself. It would be nice if she let me in on her joke.
“You and Drake are more than friends, are you not?”
My sharp intake of breath causes me to choke. My eyes water and my throat burns as the coughs battle though me. Mother rushes toward me with a metal goblet of water. I drink the water and take slow breaths as the coughing finally subsides.
“No!” I say when I regain my voice, but the word holds little conviction, and in my heart I feel the doubt, though I don’t know why. We are only friends. He’s never tried to be more, and I’ve never really thought about how I would respond if he did. I close my eyes and think of the way his hand caressed my cheek after we shot the bow together a few months ago, but this time, in my imagination, his thumb begins lifting my chin toward his face. My pulse quickens and then the Drake of my imagination drops my chin and laughs as he ruffles my hair, returning to the Drake I know. And the Drake I know would never kiss me because, if he wanted to, he would have done it already. He’s hardly even touched me since that day. “No,” I say again. “He’s my friend. There’s nothing more between us.” The words come out quiet, but this time they have their conviction.
“Oh, I just assumed . . .”
“Well, you assumed wrong,” I reply bitterly, heat spreading across my face and chest. She returns to the bed, her back facing me. I shouldn’t have spoken to her so harshly. With a deep breath, I move toward the bed and sit down next to her, placing my hand on top of hers.
“I’m not trying to rush you, Addalynne. But if you and Drake are truly not more than friends, then you have some thinking to do. I know that in your mind eleven months is a long time, but it’s not. Not for something this important. All I ask is that you give some of your attention to the young men in the village. I’m sure many have tried giving you their attention already and you just didn’t notice. For now, all I’m asking you to
do is notice.” She places a kiss on my forehead and then leaves my chambers.
I stay on my bed and let myself think about her words. I’ve never given much thought to my future, other than how badly I want to see anyplace that’s not Faygrene. But I think about it now. Can I really see myself getting married so soon? It seems unlikely. I’m nowhere near ready. Besides, she’s wrong. I would have noticed if any of the boys in Faygrene were taking interest in me. They aren’t. At least, I don’t think they are. But would it really be so terrible if one of them did? The thought leaves me flustered, and my mind returns to Drake. How would he react to someone courting me? Would he be jealous? The thought makes me smile, but I quickly shake it off. I don’t want Drake to be jealous. I want him to be happy. Besides, there’s no reason for him to be jealous. We have both known that this day would come. And if Drake didn’t want me to be with someone else then he would have done something about it. I know he would have. Drake’s not timid. He doesn’t want me in that way, and I don’t want him in that way either, so I’m not going to think about it anymore. And as much as I hate it, maybe Mother’s right. Maybe I haven’t been paying enough attention, and maybe I should start. I don’t want to be forced into saying, ‘yes’ to someone I hardly know.
My head aches with my thoughts and the anxiety they bring. Today I’ll try to notice the other boys, to see if they do seem interested. If I do this, though, I’m going to have to cancel my plans with Drake. There’s no way I can focus on them if I have him distracting me. I’ll go see Mary instead. She can help me through this.
Freyja’s trot is steady, allowing the breeze to brush through her golden hair as I make my way to Uncle Geoffrey’s. I move east, cutting through a crop of willows and bypassing the road. On the other side of several cascading branches, I see the familiar, weathered, wooden fence surrounding their small stone cottage. Drake’s horse, Bear, is still there, tied to the post. I climb off Freyja and tie her to the post as well.
My body noticeably warms and my stomach tightens as I knock on the door. Why am I so nervous? I’m never nervous to see him. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth, coming from the cut I made by biting my lip. The door opens and I release my bleeding lip from my mouth and look up at my uncle.