by Amber Argyle
She returned home and slipped back inside, shivering as the warmth hit her. She hung up her cloak, slipped off her clogs, and eased onto her mat. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw Nesha watching her. Larkin froze, her mind racing with excuses.
“I saw you,” Nesha whispered. “I heard you talking with that man from the forest. Is he one of them, one of the beasts?”
Larkin’s breath caught in her throat. “You don’t understand.”
“Explain it to me.”
Larkin closed her eyes. “I made a deal with him in exchange for him to leave me—to leave our family—alone.”
Nesha watched her, eyes glittering in the firelight. “What could we possibly have that the piper would want?”
Larkin felt a flush of relief. Nesha didn’t know about the amulet resting against her stomach. She ached to tell her sister, but Nesha’s earlier cruelty made her hesitate.
“You’re not going to tell me.”
Larkin clenched her teeth to keep the words behind them. With a huff, Nesha rolled over. Judging by her sister’s too-quick breathing, she didn’t sleep that night. Larkin could tell because she didn’t either.
The next afternoon, Larkin cupped her hands and scooped kernels of their seed wheat from the coracle into their grinding stone and twisted the handle. After several minutes, flour fell like snow into a shallow stone dish. Nesha had already gathered the flour from this morning’s grinding, mixed it with their sourdough starter, and set it in a pan over the fire. Mama lay on her mat, piled under nearly every blanket they had. Sela played with her rag dolls by the fire.
A rowdy, bellowing song started up from somewhere far away. A few beats later, she recognized her father’s voice. He sounded drunk, though not as much as usual. The voice drew steadily closer until the door shoved open. Papa finished the song, arms upraised as if he expected applause.
They all stared at him. His bloodshot eyes landed on Larkin, and he pointed a wagging finger. “I always knew you were the clever one—getting pregnant by the lord’s son is the fastest way to rise to the top of the world. Risky, but worth it if he’s an honest sort. And we all know Bane is the honest sort.” The last was said with a touch of bitterness. It was Bane who’d put Papa in the stocks for beating them.
He must have heard of Larkin’s engagement at the tavern and proceeded to celebrate. He sat down beside her, smelling of sour beer and piss, and hooked an arm around her shoulder. “Now, what has he agreed to pay for your dowry?”
This was why Larkin had left the ring at Bane’s house. If her father got his hands on it, she’d never see it again. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He pushed back to his feet and wobbled toward the door. “Well then, we shall renegotiate!”
Larkin watched her father with her mouth drawn in a tight line. She’d never hated him more than this moment.
“She’ll be safe from the forest—that’s what matters.” Mama stirred the pot, which contained the fish Larkin had caught. “Sela, go fetch us all some water, eh?”
Sela took the wooden cups, slipped on her too-big clogs, and stepped to the rain barrel out of sight of the doorway.
“There’s opportunity in this.” Papa mashed on his damp hat. “Daydon has plenty to spare. I’ll go talk to him now and work something out.”
Larkin scrambled after her father. “Papa, no.”
He looked at her, aghast. “It’s proper a man give a worthy dowry to his girl. I’m only asking for what’s mine.”
It wasn’t his; it was Larkin’s. A dowry was meant to support a wife and children if their provider died. “He gave me a ring,” she admitted to keep him from humiliating her.
Sela returned and handed Papa his cup. He looked at it like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Larkin accepted her cup quietly.
“This ring,” Papa said. “What did it look like?” When Larkin didn’t answer, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and whispered loudly, “Is it the ruby his mother used to wear?” He took her silence as a yes. A hard gleam came over his eyes. “Better than I could have hoped for. A couple months after the marriage, you will lose it.” By lose, he meant give it to him. “Give me a year, and I’ll have the ring back plus a nice little sack of coins for our investment.” And by investment, he meant gambling.
She tried not to gag at the smell of his breath.
“I always knew you’d be the one to come through for our family. Just like your old man, always up to something with a big reward at the end.”
Nesha snorted derisively. “That’s not all she’s been up to.”
Larkin glared at her sister, who refused to meet her gaze as she checked the baking bread. Sela set Nesha’s cup beside her and retreated to Mama’s arms.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” her father asked.
“Why don’t you ask Larkin where she was last night?”
Papa chuckled and shook Larkin’s shoulders like they were old friends. “Probably meeting her fiancé. Gotta keep him coming back for more, eh?”
Nesha folded her arms. “You tell him, Larkin, or I will.”
Larkin silently pleaded with Nesha not to say anything more. “I was with Bane.”
Papa chortled as he ladled fish stew from the cook pot. He sat down beside the fire.
Nesha took the bread off the fire and slammed the pan down on the bare floor. “The beast is twisting you, and you can’t even see it.”
Papa drank, ignoring the broth spilling down his beard. He wiped it with the back of his hand. His expression darkened. “Beast? What about the beast?”
Larkin let out a long breath and reined in her temper and her pride. Nesha, please, she mouthed.
Nesha threw down the rag she’d used to protect her hand from the handle, cut the circular bread, and tossed Larkin a piece. “You promised the druids to stay away from the forest. You broke that promise.”
Papa’s face went red as he looked down at Larkin. “What were you doing at the forest?”
The steaming bread burned Larkin’s hand, but her pride wouldn’t let her set it aside any more than she could tell them about the amulet or Denan. “Nesha’s confused. It’s where I was meeting Bane.”
Nesha laughed bitterly. “She was meeting the piper. I saw them. So did Maisy. It’s probably all over the town by now. Everyone’s calling our family tainted. I wouldn’t be surprised if Bane called off the wedding because of it.”
Larkin’s fist closed around the bread and smashed it into a lumpy mass that burned deep.
Papa’s furious gaze settled on Larkin. “What have we always said about the forest, girl?”
Breathing hard, Larkin dumped the bread into her empty bowl. Her palm was red, but not blistered. “I was meeting—”
“The one person who would know the truth of that is Bane himself,” Nesha said. “Shall I go ask him? Maybe I’ll tell Garrot, see what he thinks.”
Papa backhanded Nesha so hard she careened into the wall and slumped into a heap at its base. “You will keep your worthless little mouth shut.” Papa kicked her middle. “You ruin this for us, and I’ll break your good foot.”
Larkin darted to her feet and hauled on his shoulder to try to pull him off. A beat later, Mama pulled on his other side. He threw them off and stood over Nesha. “You hear me?”
“Yes,” Nesha choked out.
“Harben! Leave her alone!” Mama cried. Sela huddled under the blankets, keeping perfectly still like they’d taught her to when Papa was dangerous.
Papa wiped his nose as he backed away. Larkin positioned herself between her sister and her father. His glare transferred to her, and his arm cocked to the side. Seeing the hit coming, Larkin clenched her jaw so he wouldn’t knock out any of her teeth. The back of his hand flashed across her cheek, and her head jerked to the side. Her vision went black, then red. Blind, she blinked until she could see again. Her head swam, but the pain didn’t come—not yet.
“You stay away from the forest, Larkin.” Her father’s voice was deathly quiet.
“Or you won’t live to see your wedding.”
Mama snatched the pan and held it before her like a sword. The steaming bread fell to the dirt floor and broke apart. “Get out, Harben, and don’t ever come back.”
Papa eyed the hot pan, trying to see a way around it. “You’ve tried to divorce me before, Pennice. But the druids never granted it, because they know there’s nothing wrong with smacking some sense into your womenfolk.”
“Which is why they put you in the stocks when you tried to kill me?” Larkin’s eyes locked with Papa’s, the memory ripe between them, shame beneath the defiance. When she was twelve, Papa had gone into a rage and thrown her into the river—only, she couldn’t swim. She struggled, just under the surface, her lungs aching for air. When the world started to go soft, a hand reached for her and pulled her to safety—Bane’s hand.
Larkin balled her fists. “I’ll never give you that ring, nor speak to you again. I swear it, Harben.” She would never call him Papa again.
Harben ground his teeth, and she knew he’d hit her again if Mama wasn’t between them with a hot pan.
“Larkin is marrying into the most powerful family in Hamel,” Mama said. “How do you think her fiancé will feel about her bruised face on their wedding day?”
At this, Harben hesitated. “She’s pregnant. I had to discipline her.”
The pan in Mama’s hand faltered, and she breathed out, “Just go.”
Harben considered her for a moment before he stalked out into the rain, slamming the door behind him. Sela cried softly. Larkin spat blood onto the fire.
As the smell of burning blood filled the hut, Mama knelt beside Nesha, hands fluttering over the bruises already forming on her face and arms. “Is anything broken?”
Panting, Nesha pushed herself up to a sitting position, one hand wrapped around her ribs.
Larkin glared down at the sister who’d just betrayed her. “Why?” she asked, venom in her voice.
Nesha pushed to her feet, kicking the bread on the floor. “Because someone has to beat some sense into you!”
And instead, Harben had beaten Nesha. “I told you,” Larkin said. “I had to go.”
“Stop it, both of you!” Mama said, one hand on her back, her eyes screwed shut.
Nesha made an exasperated sound and took down her cloak.
Larkin stalked after her. “Where are you going?”
“Out,” Nesha said.
“Nesha, please. I need you,” Mama said.
Without a backward glance, Nesha left. Larkin snatched her shoes, determined to go after her sister.
“Larkin,” Mama said, and Larkin didn’t miss the betrayal in her voice. “Why?”
Larkin faltered. “He would have taken me during the crucible, but I’d given his amulet away. He promised if I got it back, he would leave us alone.”
Mama went to Sela, gathering her into her arms and shushing her. Her brow furrowed in thought. “Stick with the story you gave me—you were meeting with Bane. Do you think he’ll agree to it?”
Larkin nodded.
“Good. Find him and tell him the truth, and what he must say if asked, then find Nesha and bring her back here. Take Sela with you.”
“Because Nesha listens to me so well?”
“My water broke this morning. My pains have been growing stronger all day. I need Nesha to help me deliver the baby.”
Larkin stiffened. “But . . . Now?”
Mama grunted in pain. “Children are experts at bad timing.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t!” Mama snapped.
Sela clung to Mama as if she sensed something was wrong. “I stay.”
Larkin swung on her damp cloak, noticing how musty it smelled. She forced a smile for Sela. “Want to see Red’s puppies again?”
Sela’s gaze turned wary. “I named one Socks.”
Larkin held out the girl’s cloak for her. “I bet Bane would let you name all of them.”
Sela scrambled for her clogs. Properly dressed, Sela headed toward the door but faltered and turned back. “Mama?”
Mama gave a strained smile. “When you come back, you’ll have a little sister to hold.”
That seemed to do it for Sela. She opened the door and marched out into the rain. Larkin paused at the threshold. “You’ll be all right until I get back?”
Mama breathed out, her hands kneading her back. “Hurry.”
Larkin pounded on Bane’s door, listened for steps, and pounded again.
Finally, Venna answered, wiping a flour-whitened hand on her apron. “Larkin?”
“Bane. Where is he?”
“Puppies,” Sela said.
Venna backed into the house. “He’s not here. What’s wrong?”
“Mama’s gone into labor. I have to find Bane and Nesha. Can you watch Sela?”
Venna’s eyes widened. “Of course.”
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Larkin looked up to see Lord Daydon leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, panting.
“Oh!” Venna cried. “Master, you aren’t ready to be out of bed. Let me—”
He waved her off and sat at the table. Daydon eyed Larkin’s cheek, which was no doubt swollen and bruised. To her relief, he didn’t ask questions. Instead, he turned to Venna. “Weren’t you making an apple pie? Little girls should have apple pie.” He winked at Sela.
Venna shot Larkin a questioning look, but she knew when she’d been dismissed. She scooped up Sela and took her into the kitchen.
Daydon studied Larkin as she shifted uneasily. The whole town had turned against her. Why hadn’t Daydon? “Why are you helping me?” Why are you letting me marry your son?
Daydon laced his hands over his belly. “Your mother did a great service to me once. She’s a good woman—the best kind of woman. She doesn’t deserve the hand that’s been dealt her, and neither does her daughter.” Larkin didn’t understand how much she’d needed a little kindness from someone until then. Daydon’s voice softened. “He went to the apothecary to fetch more medicine.”
Nodding, Larkin turned to hide the tears brimming in her eyes and hurried outside. She tucked her hair out of sight in her hood and hustled through the town, head down. For once grateful for the rain that drove everyone inside, Larkin stepped into the apothecary and searched the small shop for any sign of Bane. He wasn’t there.
She stepped up to the counter. “Have you seen Bane?”
Standing at the back shelves, the apothecary froze at the sight of her, then moved toward the counter. “I don’t care if you are marrying the lord’s son, you’re forest cursed. Stay out of my shop.” He leaned over the counter. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of the town too.”
Larkin stumbled back as if she’d been slapped. “I passed the crucible.”
“Passed or was released?”
“May the forest take you,” she hissed at him. She stomped outside and glanced up and down the mud-churned streets. Normally, she would ask someone for help. Under the circumstances, that was clearly out of the question. She needed to find Bane so they could get their stories straight, and she still needed to find Nesha to help with the birth. What if Larkin couldn’t find either in time? What if Mama was in trouble?
At the sounds of chatter and laughter from within the tavern across the street, she hesitated. Surely, Harben would help. After all, Mama was having his child. Crossing the street, she glanced within. Apparently, the streets were empty because everyone had escaped the miserable weather to come here. She searched the patrons’ faces through the wavering glass, stilling at the sight of Harben.
He looked so carefree and happy that at first she didn’t recognize him. He laughed with a group of men, slapping one of them on the back. The widow Raeneth rounded the table, refilling drinks as she went. Larkin watched as she and Harben latched gazes, her hand resting protectively on her rounded stomach—though her husband had been dead some three years. Something i
ntimate and forbidden passed between them.
Larkin stepped back, her fists balled at her sides, anger turning her blood to steam. Before she could think better of it, she shoved through the door, words burning upon her tongue. But before she could voice them, a voice shouted, “The forest take you, Harben.”
Bane burst into the room through the kitchen. The constable trailed behind him. Bane was soaked through, his expression murderous. He crossed the room in two strides and slammed his fist into Harben’s face. Her father toppled backward over his chair, Bane on top of him, fists slamming down. Larkin surged forward—to help him or stop him, she wasn’t sure—but the men at her father’s table were faster. It took the constable and three others to pull Bane off, and he was still lunging and cursing.
Larkin shoved through until she stood before Bane. His eyes locked on her swollen cheek. “I’ll kill him. I swear I will.”
The chaos settled like the silence after a thunder strike.
“Seems all Harben’s girls want to be filled with a baby, eh?” someone said. A familiar voice, though she wasn’t sure who said it.
Another laughed. “Too bad they’re all cursed.”
Fuming, Larkin whirled to see who spoke. No one would meet her gaze.
Harben wobbled to his feet and spat out a tooth. He looked at Bane. His mouth twisted with hate. “I don’t care how much you’re worth, boy. You’ll not bed a daughter of mine.”
Bane huffed in disgust. “The wedding’s going to be hard to protest from the stocks.” He nodded to the constable who’d followed him across the room. “Lock him up for excessively beating his daughters.”
Larkin stiffened. How had Bane known . . . unless Nesha had gone to him?
“It’s my right to discipline my girl for her wanton ways,” Harben protested as the constable rounded on him.
Larkin cringed and forced herself not to drop her head in shame. There were more important things than her reputation right now. “Mama’s having the baby. I have to find Nesha.”