“Seems to me they should just stop fighting and send all the boys back home.”
Westfallen had been at war for what felt like ages. For nine long summers and even longer winters, our army fought against our neighbors, Osmelee and Tames, with the help of our allies in Vestalin. With each passing year the money grew tighter, and the tension grew stronger as families ached for relief and to have their sons back.
Everyone knew somebody who had gone to war, and most knew someone who had lost a loved one to the fight. I couldn’t imagine their pain. I had no brothers to send and Papa’s bad leg kept him from putting on the uniform.
What had started as a border dispute turned into a renegotiation of treaties and trade rights, and gradually shifted into an all-out power struggle between the four countries that used to be sisters. It was said that a powerful, dark northern magic kept the war alive, but Papa said it was the pride of kings, not some magic.
“’Least we have several ladies who are able-bodied, keep us going until the boys come home. Speaking of: you got a new apprentice, I see!”
I ducked my head just as I heard the rocking chair squeak as the friend leaned forward to peer in the back room. I hoped it wasn’t obvious that I was eavesdropping. I hid in there, heckling the flax plants as I’d been shown. I’d envisioned myself sewing skirts or bell sleeves by now, but the first weeks of my apprenticeship had dragged by, and each day found me in the back room crouched near a barrel, heckling until my fingers were raw. It seemed I would be putting in the work so I could appreciate the end product, as Seamstress Kira had explained. That meant before sewing together pieces of fabric, I first had to make the cloth. I spent weeks hunching over a bucket, hackling flax plants across boards to prepare the fibers for spinning. The board in my hand had long needles sticking out of it, catching the flax and pulling the leftover plant and small fibers from the longer strands. It was a tedious task that I didn’t much care for.
I chastised myself for being greedy for a simpler chore when was lucky to get this apprenticeship at all.
From where I was sitting, I could see the main room and front door. On one side of the room sat premade clothes, arranged near the windows so passersby could easily see them. The other wall held an array of fabric, each rolled up and stacked on top of each other so customers could pick their color. In the corner by the fabric, two rocking chairs swung back and forth. Wide feet would rock in and out of my view as Seamstress Kira chatted with a friend I couldn’t identify. Their words floated into the room, preoccupying me as I ran my tool through the flax.
“Yes, she’s quite good,” Seamstress Kira generously said.
“Can’t say I place her. What’s her name?”
“Cosette, daughter of Mortan, who owns the Riverfront Tavern.”
I waited to see if she would identify me. She clicked her tongue a few times before I heard a small gasp. “You don’t mean…the girl with no…” There was a clear decrease in volume and the squeaking from the rhythmic rocking was halted short. I didn’t need to hear the rest of her sentence to know she’d placed me.
“Yes, that girl, but it’s not a problem.”
“Can she work?” I didn’t know if the friend sounded disgusted or intrigued, but her tone lowered.
“‘Course she can, it doesn’t affect her ability to do work,” Seamstress Kira laughed, while my face flushed.
“I just mean, well, she’s not like the rest of us.”
I didn’t know Seamstress Kira well, and she would have no reason to defend me. I stopped running the flax through the board to hear her response. It came gently. “I don’t see why not. I don’t use my Gift to work.”
Another click of the tongue. “It’s not natural. Someone that even magic won’t touch? You must be careful about that one.”
I had heard it all before, but each time I allowed the remarks to get into my head and pierce my heart. There had never been a child born in Westfallen in the past hundred years who didn’t have a Gift. All the children before me and all the children since were marked with a Gift by the age of three.
I liked to say it didn’t bother me, but the tears threatening to fill my eyes told a different story.
To spare me from future remarks from her friend, Seamstress Kira appeared with a golden apple to relieve me from my task. She admired my work, choosing a few pieces that needed to be heckled a few more times, but otherwise looked very pleased with what I’d accomplished. Once satisfied, I removed the smaller fibers from the needles and put them in their own pile to be used to stuff pillows or as kindling, whichever Seamstress Kira chose.
“Good, very good. Now you come back tomorrow, and I’ll teach you how to spin this into thread. Sweep the floors before you go. I assume you don’t need me showing you that?”
“No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am,” I said with a small curtsy. Seamstress Kira gave me a dimpled smile as she pointed toward the broom in the corner then took off her apron and hung it on a hook before returning to her friend.
“You know what really keeps that war going,” the friend’s heavy voice seeped back into the room, once again not caring if she was overheard. I turned my body so I could eavesdrop better as I swept. “It’s that dreadful curse, that’s what it is.”
My ears perked up. A curse? This was news to me.
“Oh, you can’t believe that.”
“But I do! You should too, ‘less you want trouble coming for you. That old king invited magic and mischief into his kingdom, and for a hundred years since it’s brought nothing but trouble.” Her voice was serious as she breathed the words and I could picture her shaking her finger.
The doubt persisted in Seamstress Kira’s voice. “The war has only been going on nine years, not a hundred.”
“It from that curse that the old king got! It’s been sitting around almost a hundred years now! Not good to let it sit so long. The war is punishment. She must be satisfied.”
Seamstress Kira clucked as she turned about to check on me. I had stopped to listen and stood there with the broom in my hand and eyes wide. She shook her head at me.
“Go on home now, Cosette. There’s nothing but high tales here.”
Quickly I put my broom back in the corner, ashamed to be caught eavesdropping on gossip. I grabbed my apple from my seat and thanked Seamstress Kira several times as I backed out of her home. Her friend was watching me with eyes that seemed to warn me to heed her story. I recognized the friend, but still couldn’t pin her name.
I wondered if there was truth to her tale. Papa once warned us against tales of strong magic, and while Anika believed in such a thing, I prided myself on being more rational. The Gifts held a limited magic. But they were different from powerful, free flowing magic one could control with their hands. The Gifts couldn't cast curses that lasted a hundred years, and they couldn't create wars.
Like me, Seamstress Kira sounded like a rational woman and I figured we would get along well. She was a kind lady, a bit heavy with round eyes and even rounder cheeks. While our time together was pleasant, I was not looking forward to seeing her daughter at the tavern. All the kindness that Seamstress Kira had didn’t translate to Oria, who was a stuck-up hog if you asked me. Papa has asked me not to call people that, but even he said that he was glad I wasn’t friends with that girl.
Aiden seemed to get along quite fine with Oria, and me working at the shop today meant that she’d be at the tavern tonight. She didn’t seem to respect our courtship, though I guessed she would respect an engagement. There was one benefit to saying yes. That’s not a reason to get engaged, I reminded myself. Clearly, I’d come no closer to a decision.
Thanks to the information from Anika, I’d been more intentional about my time with Aiden, constantly pretending that he was my husband to gauge how I felt about it. Sometimes it thrilled me and other times it scared me. Time and time again, the scenario of him asking for my hand ran through my mind, and each time I tested out saying yes.
I replayed the imaginary scene
in my head as I walked home, wondering what it would feel like to be Aiden’s forever.
Chapter Three
“Pants! I want pants!” Anika yelled enthusiastically with her fists in the air. She hurled herself onto the bed next to me, throwing her hands on my shoulders and shaking me. “Pants!”
“Anika!” Mama exclaimed horrified. She swatted at Anika with her hand, beckoning her to calm down, but Anika couldn’t be bridled. Three years younger than me, she had more energy than a horse on a first spring’s ride.
“I mean it, Mama. I want to wear pants, and you’re going to make them for me!” She pointed at me with a stern face, ordering me to do her bidding. I laughed at her glee. The whole family was crowded in my room, which was a strange but comforting sight. I had my back against the wall and a pillow under my arm that had fallen away when Anika shook me. Anika was still bouncing on her knees next to me, her hands rolled into fists as she pumped them with each bounce. Mama was on the edge of my bed and Papa stood at the foot of it. With the four of them in the room, it appeared quite small.
A month into my apprenticeship with Seamstress Kira, my family wanted an update on how well I was mastering my skills. I knew they would be disappointed to hear that I still hadn’t done much more than heckling flax, so I tried to liven up the story for their sakes.
“It looks like I’m a long way off from actually making clothes, but when I do, your pants will be the first thing I make,” I promised Anika. She settled back onto my bed triumphantly.
“You’re welcome to wear a pair of mine, Anika dear. Just not in public, I beg you,” Papa offered. Anika made a face and I could tell what she was thinking. Papa was tall, a trait which he passed onto me. But Anika was short, even more so than Mama, and any pair of his pants would need to be hoisted up to her chest to fit her.
Mama sighed. “I must admit, it would be nice to have someone who can make us clothes.” Papa pulled his lips tight, but he nodded. I knew he hated to ask it of me, but he couldn’t deny the benefits. We didn’t have money to spend on such things when we could barely afford the oil for our lamps. Mama had long ago planted an extensive garden to try to bring in extra income with the food, but it had little impact. The few meals and drinks we offered at the tavern were all we could afford to make, and the money we received for them was only enough to keep us afloat.
The first time I was aware of our money problems, I was ten. A man had gotten drunk and broke two chairs in a squabble, and Papa was stressed for weeks. He didn’t know if he should ban the man from the tavern, knowing he was likely to break things again and we hadn’t the money to repair them, or let him continue to come because we depended on his tab. In the end he struck a deal with the drunk man’s brother that he would come repair anything broken in return for one free drink, and Papa’s shoulders had relaxed again.
The next year, Anika and I were sent to our cousins for a month because our parents couldn’t afford to feed us. And I think that was the first time Anika realized how poor we were. She had cried and cried about how we were going to end up homeless like the Copper family, but I had shushed her.
Things never got that bad again, but I often skipped meals to help ration the food, and I knew that Papa did the same.
If I could make clothes for the family, maybe start my own business down the road, it would be a huge blessing to our family. For the first time in my life, I had something of value. I might not have a Gift, but I could finally do more than sweep the floors and wipe the counters.
“I’m so proud of you, Cozy.” Papa came forward with his hands in his pockets and lightly kissed my forehead.
The praise felt premature. “We still don’t know if I’m any good.”
He shook his head at me as if I was being foolish. “Nonsense. I know my little girl. I have no doubt you could spin straw into gold.”
The compliment, and his vivid imagination, made me smile. Gold wasn’t reasonable, but as long as I could make a simple dress or some trousers, I’d be content. The hope that simmered in me dwelled in the eyes of my family, too. I saw it as I looked at them, each one looking at me in a way I’d never seen before, so foreign that it took me a moment to place it. Pride, I named it. For the first time, I could give them hope for a better life.
My next breath came slow, allowing me to enjoy the moment to its fullest.
Mama broke the silence first. “Customers will be here soon, so get started on prep.” She wiped her eyes as she ushered Anika off my bed and out the door. Papa stood to follow them, but he stopped outside the doorframe.
“Are you happy, Cozy?”
My head tilted as I frowned. “Of course I am.”
He nodded, but his hand raised to his mouth where he tapped his tooth for a moment. He rocked on his heels, his head almost grazing the top of the doorframe as he moved. “And Aiden, he makes you happy?”
My head dropped to look at the bed. That’s what this was about. Papa had given me privacy on this topic, but he must have known Aiden’s intentions, and now he wanted to know if I was in love.
“He’s a really good man,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t enough. To cover my uncertainty, I asked Papa, “What do you think of him?”
Papa ran his hand back and forth on his head, messing with his dark grey hair. He took a long, deep sigh. “He’s not what I pictured for you, but I agree. He is a good man.”
We’d never talked about this, so it surprised me to hear he’d pictured someone for me. “What did you envision?” I held my breath as I waited for his answer, not realizing how much I craved his input on the subject.
Papa sucked his lip in before answering. “Someone simpler, I guess. Quieter maybe. But the decision is yours alone, and I support you wholeheartedly.”
His answer did nothing to settle my nerves or confusion, and I’m certain my discomfort showed on my face, because he came back to the bed and sat down next to me with his arm over my shoulders. “From a young age, you would tell Mama and me all about the man that you were sure you would one day marry. I have no doubt that you know what you want and that you will make the right decision, and we will be happy to welcome Aiden into the family.”
He said it as if Aiden would be my choice, but I wasn’t so sure. “Did you know Mama was the one?”
He smiled at the memory. “I knew I wanted to marry your mama long before she even noticed me. She was all I thought of day and night, and I knew I couldn’t live without her.”
The beauty in those words quieted me. I want that.
Papa kissed my forehead before leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I had so many thoughts; I wasn’t sure I’d ever sort them out.
There were no other prospects for me. If I turned Aiden down, I might not get another offer. More than that, Aiden was a good option. He was my best friend, and I considered myself happy with him.
Was that enough to base my life on?
Unexpectedly, tears began to stream down my cheeks.
I couldn’t marry him. I couldn’t say yes.
Over the past two months, I’d devoted countless hours and frustrating, endless nights, caught in my plight of indecision, trying to decide if I wanted to marry Aiden while I ignored the doubts brewing in my heart. If this was love, if this was true love, I wouldn’t have these doubts. If this was love, my nights would be spent giddy with anticipation instead of feeling sick with fear.
Surely life could grant me something better than this, but even if it didn’t, I couldn’t live always wondering if I’d settled for less. Aiden didn’t deserve that, and neither did I.
I’d thought this before, but something felt different this time. As I envisioned saying no, peace settled over me, and I clung to it.
With that peace in my mind, I resolved to settle the issue, though I dreaded the idea of hurting Aiden.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Aiden waited for me as I opened my door. He would be singing here tonight, but I didn’t expect to see him right outside my room.
H
e paced with his hands behind his back, his nose rosy with the evidence of a day spent outside in winter. His coat was unbuttoned, and droplets of water hid in its fibers. He straightened himself at the sight of me.
“Your mama said I could come back here to find you,” he stammered as he played with his hands, rubbing his palms together and flipping his hands over, then rubbing them again in a gesture I’d never seen him make before.
While he paced for a few steps, I waited, unsure if I needed to reply to his comment. My hands started shaking and I hid them behind my back so he wouldn’t see. My words ran though my head, the confidence I’d felt the moments before now replaced by nerves at the difficult conversation at hand.
Aiden looked equally nervous as he bobbed his head up and down, turning back to the left to continue pacing. He only got a few steps in before he took a big one back to the doorway. His eyes danced up to mine, then skirting away again.
“I love you so much, Cosette,” he started.
My chest fell. Though Anika had warned me, I’d hoped she’d been wrong about Aiden’s intentions. It would be easier to break off our courtship if he didn’t harbor such strong feelings for me, feelings that, without a proper explanation, I couldn’t return. This was my best friend, and I had to hurt him in a way I’d never planned on doing.
“Aiden, I can’t.” My voice sounded hollow as it rang in my ears.
“What?”
“I can’t marry you,” I choked. His body froze and all expression fell from his face. I took a step back, not wanting to be so near to his pain. “I’m so sorry, I know that I love you, but there’s something missing. I can’t live my whole life with this uncertainty.”
Aiden’s face remained blank as I struggled to put my feelings into words. His tongue flicked across his lips before he replied, “People get married for a lot less than love. We have love.”
I wished for tears to fall from my eyes to prove to him how much this hurt me, but none came. So, I placed my hands to my chest and took a shaky breath. “But it’s not this powerful love; I don’t feel consumed by it. I don’t think about how much I love you every night or dream about you during the day. It’s not the love that I read about as a girl.”
The Storyteller’s Daughter Page 2