“I’m not sure I enjoy the Festival like I used to,” Hilda said. “The soldiers’ hands like to roam after a few meads.”
This time Hadley’s smile was genuine.
“Who do they think they are?” she enthused.
The sun was on the march and there were chores to be completed. The la Bernes weren’t running a full-scale farm but the morning work was substantial enough. Hadley changed into what she called her ‘muds’ - old leather breeches, loose cotton shirt. The morning frost would slap her in the face but the milking would warm her up. Rolling up her sleeves, she marched out to the chicken hutch and collected eight eggs. She rang the bell by the kitchen door to let Vesna know her first delivery had arrived. Next came the cows. Hadley didn’t always milk them but enjoyed it when she did. Today she filled two and a half cans, hauling them directly to the kitchen. Vesna was half-obscured in smoke from the skillet.
“Bacon?” she inquired hopefully as she flicked off her slips and sat at the table.
“Best in the district,” Vesna said, piling rashers onto her daughter’s plate. “Tanis did a deal with Cabon.”
“Of course he did,” Hadley said, smiling. “That boy gets around.”
Hadley attacked a sublime breakfast of bacon, poached eggs, fresh bread and butter. She was probably the best eater in the family, but at almost six-feet in height this was hardly a surprise. Just as she was mopping up the grease there was a bang from upstairs. A high-pitched wail followed.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
The children needed separating and comforting. It took all of ten minutes for Hadley to see Hettie, Billy and Ril downstairs for breakfast. By that stage she was ready to change out of her soiled ‘muds’ and into more appropriate dress. Catelyn’s bed was empty - she was probably down in the yard with Doran. Training was fine, but the pair would need to be ready for the egg hunt later in the morning. The hunt was a Feast day tradition as long as Hadley could remember. She flicked through her dress rack and settled on a warm, orange frock.
Only just squeezing into it, she made a mental note to ease off the bacon. Her cleavage was pronounced, but that was never a reason to put a dress aside. As far as Hadley was concerned, her body as just another tool to leverage what she wanted from the world. Her flame hair, curvy figure and imposing stature made her stand out in the crowd and that created opportunities she could exploit. Give or take, she’d been getting what she wanted for years. Of course, the immediate issue was how she would wear her hair for the Feast. Her auburn locks were her pride and joy. No one could say for sure where they’d come from - Vesna’s family generally had dark hair, whilst Devon’s lineage was fair. She liked to speculate that her mother had once entertained an enterprising officer whilst Devon was away on business, but Vesna’s unguarded delight at the prospect convincingly acquitted her of infidelity.
Hadley settled herself by the vanity dresser and piled her hair into a bun. She’d heard that Andra’s upper strata were adopting the style, not that the coarse soldiers of Duskovy’s garrison were capable of appreciating such attention to detail. Two pins to hold the bun in place and Hadley had achieved an easy, casual grace. More than enough for the day’s activities but she’d need to return later to apply finishing touches. As she teased a few strands free to complete her “tousled” look, Hadley ruminated on the night ahead. She would need to be on her guard at the Feast. The Equinox was the only real opportunity for village girls to socialize with officers of the Duskovy garrison. As for the soldiers, the Baron generally maintained high discipline. The men were occasionally permitted to “unwind” but only in Andra. The official line was that the Baron didn’t want to spoil Guill, but Hadley suspected he was receiving kickbacks from the Rose Cartel. Whatever the case, the single women of the district were starved of quality marriage options and all too often settled for what was available.
She intended to assess her options at the Feast. In such situations her looks tended to do all the heavy lifting - it was just a matter of choosing which of her admirers she wished to speak to. Of course, Devon wasn’t oblivious to Hadley’s charms and in recent years had made a point of keeping close tabs on her at social gatherings. This year felt different though. At nineteen summers, Hadley was now looking seriously at the men queuing to share a minute with her. Though aware of the various planets sliding into her orbit, Devon maintained a curious silence on the subject. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed keen to see Hadley married. With Doran intent on taking the long road to becoming a Knight, Hadley was the next in line. Such unions usually involved a maiden emolument, which would no doubt represented a much-needed shot in the arm for the la Bernes.
Hadley, more than anyone, wanted to keep her family strong. Like it or not the la Bernes were community leaders and needed to set an appropriate example. The pressure to make astute choices was building steadily. The Gods knew that Ardennian women had zero margin for error when they came of age. In her quieter moments, Hadley was often confronted with the realization that she’d rather die than accept a life of servile mediocrity. That wouldn’t help anyone, least of all the family. No, she had a firm grip of the reality of her position and was prepared to sacrifice love for advantage.
By the same token, she wasn’t about to get carried away with the Feast. An officer would be a reputable catch but how much coin could she expect? Lately she’d been wondering whether she should simply leave with Tanis for Andra. She got on well with her kid brother and couldn’t think of a better business partner in the bustling river town. Naturally, leaving Tavalen would be difficult. Her father was beginning to slow down. Vesna had her hands full with the younger children. Doran was tied up with his training and Catelyn … well, she was firmly at a crossroads without seeming to realize it. Everyone thought she would be the first to leave. A glittering tenure at the Lakeshore Academy seemed etched in the stars, an inevitable triumph. That things hadn’t worked out that way was more than a little shocking. Catelyn’s uncharacteristic indecision weighed heavily on everyone, as if all their lives had been thrown slightly off-kilter.
“Hadley?”
Yolanda stood pensively in the doorway, clutching her latest knitted experiment to her chest.
“Nice scarf.”
Hadley’s younger sister smiled. “Mind if I sit with you for a bit?”
“Sure,” Hadley said, shifting along the padded bench she and Catelyn often used together when making themselves up. “What’s on your mind?”
As was her wont, the younger girl framed her words carefully before replying.
“Have you ever been with a boy, Hadley?”
Instinctively ignoring the direct question, Hadley patted Yolanda on the thigh.
“Who is he, Yol? And will he at the Feast tonight?”
“His name is Hos,” Yolanda said with a guilty smile. “And … yes, he’ll be there.”
Hadley froze.
“Silly, silly girl,” she blurted, her gorge rising. “You do realize Hos meets girls regularly in the Old Wood?”
“How do you know?” Yolanda asked, eyes glistening.
“Grow up, Yolanda.”
The sheer force of Hadley’s frustration drew the younger sister to her feet and almost out the door completely.
“Is that what you do, Hadley?” she asked in a strangled voice. “With your figure, the way you dress. You must have men by the dozen, right?”
She doesn’t know, Hadley told herself. She isn’t being horrid.
“I’m intact, Yol. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m scared.”
Her misery neatly subverted by Hadley’s frank admission, Yolanda struggled to frame a reply.
“Yolanda, Guill may not be much but it’s all we have. A certain reputation to uphold. There’s the common folk and then there’s us. Do you understand?”
Yolanda nodded, but her blank face suggested she needed to mull things over.
“If we didn’t have proper hierarchy, what would we be?” Hadley asked patiently.
“I
don’t know.”
“Savages. You will forget Hos this very moment or I’ll end it myself. Is that clear?”
Yolanda’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yes, Hadley.”
“Good,” the older sister said firmly, turning back to the mirror. After a slight pause, Yolanda’s footsteps receded down the hallway.
As Hadley adjusted her dress one final time, she reflected on the prospect of spending the night with someone. Despite what she’d told the too-young Yolanda, it might well be worth it just to be rid of her troublesome virginity. Of course, in this day and age there was no expectation that a bride be pristine. It was strange - Hadley was the confident, brassy older sister but Catelyn, mousy, intellectual Catelyn, was the one who’d lost her virginity years ago. To be fair, Hadley had always feigned disinterest but found herself asking detailed questions nonetheless. She wasn’t fooling anyone with her haughty pretense, least of all her annoyingly clever sister. Vesna once told Hadley that she tried to look after everyone and needed to spend more time on herself. Perhaps there was some truth in that. Come what may at the Feast, she resolved to enjoy the occasion. Tying herself up in knots would get her precisely nowhere, and did it matter if nothing happened? Surely time was still on her side.
Feeling better, Hadley bounced down the stairs with a clear head and energy to burn. With her usual mix of encouragement and dogged tenacity, Vesna had prepared the children for the day. They were standing to attention in the yard, chattering excitedly about who was going to find the most eggs. Resigned to their roles as shepherds, Tanis, Cybil and Greta had all reported for duty. Doran and Catelyn had sent word that they would join up later. Yolanda was presumably moping around the house. Noticing how tired Vesna looked, Hadley took charge, marshaling the troops through the front gates. She was glad to see Paul and Julien Szorka approaching with the Duskovy battle surgeon. Gavar Innis didn’t look too happy about it either. Soldiers at the castle didn’t get too many days off and had probably started drinking already.
“Adner will let you in,” Vesna called out as the horses passed in a canter. “We’ll be back by noon to see how Daniel is going.”
Under a Seeing Oak adorned with artfully crafted spring garlands, the village green was thick with smiles and good will. Ivan Magra had hitched wagons stuffed with sugary treats to his Layesse ponies. Amid dubious claims that they required “fuel” for the hunt, the children of the village were gorging themselves. Billy, Ril and Hettie went wild over the array of shortbreads and cupcakes. Ariel Marber had baked up a storm. Hadley allowed the children to run riot, figuring it was a rare enough experience for them. Feeding off the general energy, she found herself going back for a second coconut slice. As she moved to the deliciously deep shade of the Seeing Oak, she noticed Sam Gerrity tracking her with leery eyes. Her bold dress sense occasionally made her self-conscious, but her method of dealing with unwanted attention was to fight fire with fire. She arched her back and stood tall, thrusting her bosom forward. Gerrity blinked and looked away.
“Gather round, children,” he called. “The hunt is upon us!”
Hadley rolled her eyes as the children flocked to the weaselly tavern owner. Somewhere along the line the scoundrel had styled himself as a village elder of sorts. Where Devon La Berne was the foremost authority on legal, scientific and political matters, Gerrity relished his role as rabble-rouser and faux-patriarch. Hadley had never taken him at all seriously, which only seemed to inflame his apparent fixation with her.
“Now, children,” he said complacently. “The time has come to prove your foraging skills. More than a hundred spring eggs have been hidden around the village. The child with the heaviest bucket will receive a hamper chock-full of fine produce. Unless, of course, the winner is a la Berne, in which case the bounty will be split evenly among the lot o’ yer.”
Hadley winced. It was tradition for the la Bernes to relinquish anything that fell their way. Though she understood the reasoning behind it, Hadley had never liked it in practice. Children were children irrespective of the families that sprouted them. Naturally, Hadley accepted her family’s fate with good grace and acted the part she was expected to play. At the end of the day, she was good at it. If the people of Guill wanted a ruling class, that was precisely what she would give them.
Gerrity counted down to zero and the children were let loose on the village. Keen to ensure the little la Bernes were being tracked, Hadley made eye contact with Cybil and Tanis.
“This is great for the children,” Gerrity drawled as he sidled up behind Hadley, his bony hip nudging hers. “But I’m looking forward to a quiet cup o’ mead at the castle tonight.”
“The elder tables are always a little quiet,” Hadley said. “I guess those under forty tend to move around. Have a lovely time, Sam.”
Gerrity was about to scramble a suitable retort when a sound like thunder rolled in from the west. Both looked to the sky - nothing untoward there.
“Horses,” Gerrity muttered. “Lots of them.”
“Hold the children,” Hadley called to Cybil, who was with the young ones by the lily pond.
The rumble built to a crescendo as a host of some thirty riders rounded a bend in Hearth Street and approached. Hadley felt a lurch of anxiety. She’d been expecting local garrison soldiers, but these riders weren’t human. They sat tall and straight, where humans tended to hunch over their mounts. Their heads were small and oval-shaped, their hair fine and long. The leather armor on display was mint green, boots and cloaks a darker bottle green.
Elves.
Pale-faced, Gerrity backed away. Something compelled Hadley to stand her ground. She would not allow these men to run her off her own village green. The elvish host didn’t slow down, cutting across the soft turf and continuing east along Hearth Street. The horses, svelte forest trackers from the look of them, split to either side of Hadley, who’d never felt more vulnerable in her life. Even so, she made a point of looking directly into the faces of the impertinent creatures. Elves had a reputation for well-proportioned beauty, but these individuals looked battered and worn. Their eyes were sunken and many sported jagged scars. Ignoring the flecks of mud peppering her dress, Hadley marked the strangely shaped bows at the elves’ backs, the slender arrows packed into streamlined sheaths at their thighs. Each warrior sat stock still, blue eyes bleak and inscrutable. It was only when the host had passed that Hadley let her breath out again. The elves turned into Farrar Lane, presumably heading further north to Duskovy Castle. Hadley reassured herself that the Baron’s garrison out-numbered the elves five to one. Still, the experience had left her shaken. She took a deep breath before checking on the others.
Doran and Catelyn joined the hunt within the hour. The eventual winner was a Levane girl from one of the western farms. Billy, Ril and Hettie could hardly consider themselves losers with all the muffins and cupcakes they’d stuffed into their pockets. It was early afternoon by the time they made it back to Tavalen. Hadley left the children in the orchard under Cybil’s supervision. Vesna, finishing up in the kitchen, had good news - Daniel Szorka was on his way home. Gavar Innis had done all he could and would return to Guill in a week for a follow-up assessment. Hadley didn’t need to ask what that meant - the leg would either heal or fester. The only solution to the latter was a steel cleaver.
Sitting at the kitchen window with fresh bread and marmalade, Hadley told her mother about the mysterious elf passage.
“Came in from the west?” Vesna asked. “I’ll see if there’s any news from Vitton.”
Hadley nodded - her mother was fairly well connected out that way. The elves were far from their usual paths. The Great Southern Forest was over a week’s hard ride to the south east, beyond the Dawn Forest.
“Probably nothing,” Vesna went on, busily hanging herbs from the ceiling lattice. “A diplomatic detachment, perhaps.”
Both women knew it couldn’t be true. The elves never deployed diplomats to foreign lands, however friendly, preferring instead to engage trusted
proxies from the native populace. The stray elves barely looked like soldiers, let alone silver-tongued dignitaries. There’d been something unsavory about them, a malaise Hadley couldn’t quite nail down. She prided herself on knowing people within seconds of meeting them, so her failure grated. What’s more, the news clearly troubled her mother deeply. Hadley was just about to press the subject of elves when the children bustled in for lunch.
“We’ll talk later,” Vesna promised, catching the look in her eye. “Now, my lovelies, this is it until the party, so eat up!”
The night of the Feast couldn’t have been lovelier. The air was soft and clear, with only an occasional breath from the south. All breezes from that direction originated in the vast deserts of the Kashar Empire and very rarely brought rain. Hadley and Catelyn spent more than two hours dressing and applying makeup. In truth they only needed a quarter of the time, but it was traditional to scour each other’s wardrobes, provide sage advice, speculate on the night’s mysteries and giggle stupidly. As the sun turned blood-red and prepared to sink the horizon, the girls took their first, hopeful steps along the second floor landing and down the stairs. Catelyn looked adorable in her spring turquoise dress. Hadley had opted for a scarlet chiffon number with a plunging neckline. She’d completed her decolletage with an elegant silver necklace. Custom-made under Devon’s instruction, it depicted the family crest - a white horse on red and blue chequy. The family motto was engraved underneath - wisdom in all things. Catelyn teased her for being so parochial but Hadley was proud of her lineage and wanted everyone she came across to know it. Most men would already be looking in that direction anyway.
Admiring each other’s finery, the family gathered in the yard. Devon looked noble in his Representative’s vestment. Hadley enjoyed this echo of the past, even if it inevitably made her wonder why he retired so early. Once everyone was ready, Adner was dispatched to bring the gig round. The children squealed when they saw Horatio and Banyi, freshly-brushed draught horses. All nine siblings squeezed in the back of the rickety old gig, their exasperated parents on the bench up front. Devon waved at Adner and jigged the reins.
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