For a moment, it was silent. Bren must have stopped, but seconds later, she heard the sound of tall grass against fabric as Bren matched her pace, grabbing her hand and bringing her to a stop. “Marrying isn’t the end of your dreams, Rema. Before we have children, we can travel a bit. Of course, it will have to be after the harvest. But I’m sure we can manage to do something. Then, once you have some babies, you’ll be so busy with them and the farm that you won’t want to go anywhere. Besides, it’s not like the king will ever allow us to leave Jarko anyway.”
Bren raised his left arm, revealing his black tattoo. Rema wanted to tear the mark from her wrist. She wasn’t meant to be kept in a pen like an animal. His arm dropped to his side, and Rema dared a quick glance at his face. Just as she feared, it was there—the look. Honesty, love, vulnerability, all mixed together, clear as day.
Rema’s head pounded, and she gasped for air. Have children? Run a farm? She wasn’t ready for all of this. It was too much too soon.
She pulled away from Bren and continued walking. The sun had set and darkness descended upon them as they crossed back into the horse pasture. Rema caught a glimpse of two figures next to the barn. It had to be Aunt Maya and Uncle Kar. She went to see what they were doing outside, while Bren’s parents were still inside. When she got closer, Rema realized they were arguing. They never argued.
“What if he shows up? What then?” Aunt Maya sounded desperate.
“We haven’t heard from him in three years. Something must have happened, and you know the contingency plan.”
Rema slid into the shadows to listen as Bren went inside, shaking his head in disapproval, apparently too good to eavesdrop.
“But he made us promise, Kar. We told him we wouldn’t let her marry. Yet here we are, with a signed contract.”
Uncle Kar paced along the side of the barn. “Are we supposed to wait forever? What if he never comes back, and then Rema’s too old to marry? Besides, what if she’s noticed? It’s risky not to have a solid contract.” His hands waved through the air in agitation.
Rema wondered who they were talking about. Another potential suitor?
“I still think we should wait longer. The wedding doesn’t have to happen next month,” Aunt Maya pleaded.
“We don’t have that luxury. Now, not another word. We need to be done with this.” Uncle Kar stomped back into the house with Aunt Maya rushing behind him. Rema’s anxious ears were left wanting more.
****
“I know you’re not happy about the situation, Rema,” Uncle Kar said, tightening his hands around the reins of the horses.
Sitting as far away from her uncle on the wagon as she could, Rema intended to ignore him so she could be alone with her thoughts. He didn’t take the hint.
“But Bren’s an honorable man. He’ll be good to you. Take care of you.”
The day was still young, with a damp fog covering the land, preventing the horses from kicking up dust, although it was still a little cold. Rema pulled her brown, knitted shawl tightly around her shoulders. They traveled on a well-used road that went straight through the thick forest to the main town, past the governor of Jarko’s fortress, and beyond. It was not far from this very road that Rema ran into Prince Darmik. Her eyes darted between the trees, searching the shadows for the mysterious commander who had held her hand so sweetly.
The wagon hit a rock, pulling her back to the task at hand. A messenger had arrived last night, stating that Lord Filmar needed an exceptional horse delivered immediately. Uncle Kar selected one of Rema’s favorite horses. Not only was the stallion strong and beautiful, but it was stubborn, sometimes difficult to manage, and unbelievably fast, making him Uncle Kar’s first pick. Rema hated to see the stallion sold, but Uncle Kar had no choice—it was worth too much to keep.
“Besides,” he continued, “you’re friends. That should make things easier,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince even himself of the match. Rema shot him a look of steel.
“If something happens to your aunt or me, I need to know you’re taken care of,” he said.
Aunt Maya and Uncle Kar were always kind to Rema, treating her well, and she was never forced to do anything she didn’t want to—until now. Rema turned away from him, unable to bear the pain on his face.
Her aunt and uncle were getting old. They were beyond their childbearing years when they took her in after her parents died in the takeover. Uncle Kar’s hair was gray, along with his beard. He was tall and rather strong for his age. Rema assumed it was from lifting bales of hay, buckets of water, and working with horses on a daily basis. But Uncle Kar also had several scars on his arms above the tattoo on his wrist, and she wondered if he had ever been a soldier. When Rema asked him about it once, he told her that it was a long time ago, and he didn’t want to talk about before.
Rema thought of Prince Darmik. When he had reached out to her on the riverbank, she noticed a scar starting at his knuckles and running up under his tunic. Next to his lips was another one. The commander of a lethal army was bound to be covered with battle wounds.
“I can take care of myself,” she declared.
“No doubt. But there are other factors that need to be considered. Things you couldn’t possibly understand.”
“Because I’m a girl or because I’m too young?” she asked.
“You’re not too young. You’re of marriageable age. If you don’t marry soon, people will start to wonder. We can’t attract the attention, especially with the way you look.” His eyes focused on the dirt road in front of them, carefully avoiding her.
Well, she couldn’t help the way she looked. Everyone on Greenwood Island had golden, tanned skin, dark hair, and brown eyes—even her aunt and uncle. Rema never came across anyone with pale coloring and blonde hair like her own. When Rema asked Aunt Maya about it once, Aunt Maya told Rema not to worry. Then Maya got up and left the room, ending their conversation on the matter.
Glancing at Uncle Kar, Rema wondered what people he was referring to anyway? The town near their land was small. She never came into contact with anyone. If anything, her aunt and uncle prevented her from interacting with others. The only reason she was friends with Bren was because his father’s land was next to theirs.
Rema didn’t say anything else because there was nothing else to say, no way out of her predicament. If only she felt the need to settle down, marry, and be a farmer’s wife. But it didn’t feel right to her. She longed to run away and see the kingdom—to experience all that it had to offer.
Uncle Kar reached over and patted her shoulder. His hand was sun-browned and leathery, like the horse reins he held.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This isn’t what any of us planned. But it’s the best we can do, given the circumstances.”
Rema didn’t even try to understand him. The wagon trudged on. The beautiful horse they were delivering whinnied behind them. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
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