“Yeah, but she’s not the one that I want.”
Mara squinted at him out of the corners of her eyes. What was that supposed to mean? Did he like one of the other girls in town? Her own parents were lucky; they had been lovers long before their marriage was arranged. She couldn’t imagine being forced to marry someone she didn’t love. “I don’t suppose there’s any way out of it then?”
“No, but no one gets married before they’re twenty anyway. Anything could happen. For instance, I could get struck by a runaway wagon,” he replied.
“Don’t say that,” Mara said, smacking him on the arm.
“Hurry up, Ansel baby! I can’t wait to show you off to all my friends!”
Mara giggled and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “On second thought, maybe she’ll get hit by the wagon.”
***
Stonehollow buzzed like a nest of hornets. The villagers, dressed in their finest, crowded around the town square, pointing and whispering behind their hands. The smallest children sat on their fathers’ shoulders, waving ribbons of red and yellow. It wasn’t exactly the hushed, respectful atmosphere she expected for a funeral. The excitement was contagious, and for a moment, Mara got caught up in the euphoria.
She craned her neck above the throng of bodies, eager to see what the fuss was all about. A carriage the size of a small house was parked in front of the stone platform. It was painted deep burgundy, trimmed with white gold leafing and set with onyx stones. The opulence was sickening. They could repair all the homes in town with the wealth on the carriage alone. Hitched to the front were six horses, each the color of fresh fallen snow, with chiseled heads, arched necks and delicate legs.
“Have you ever seen horses that fine?” Mara asked Ansel, voice hushed.
He nodded. “Rich people in the capital keep them for sport riding or to pull carriages. My father took me to a race in Merrowhaven on our last trip. It’s quite popular.”
“It can’t be a capital carriage though, the colors are all wrong,” she said, frowning. Wait, she knew those colors. Her stomach bottomed out as she surveyed the crowd, spotting the clues she had missed. At least a dozen Order disciples, wearing long gray robes, stood around the perimeter.
“It’s probably the new Magi,” Ansel said, scanning the crowd for his family. He had nothing to worry about after all. He had a Gift. She resisted the urge to smack him upside his abnormally thick head.
“Nope, I can’t deal with this. The old Magi barely tolerated my existence and I have the scars to prove it. Look, I’ll catch up with you after the ceremony,” Mara said, intending to duck through the nearest alleyway. Escaping back into the woods sounded like the perfect plan.
The Order was well-known for being fanatical and downright ruthless when it came to dregs and their influence was growing stronger, especially in the neighboring kingdoms. Rumor was in Lingate, the Magi killed all dregs on sight. Some say they tied them in a field for crows to peck out their eyes. Others vowed that dregs were bound, hand and foot, and burned alive. She trembled.
“Going somewhere?” Oona hissed in her ear, clutching her arm in a grip so tight it promised to leave bruises. Mara stared into her sky-blue eyes, trying to decide if the punishment would be worth punching her square in the face. “What sort of friend would I be if I let you leave without meeting the new Magi?”
A broken nose was far too good for her. Being eaten alive by leeches or buried in a manure pit would be far more satisfying. Did she really tell Ansel that Oona would be a good match for him?
“Why are you doing this?” Mara asked, trying to pull away.
Oona tightened her hold, dragging her through the crowd. “If you ask me, the old Magi gave you too much leeway. The Order is clear; only the Gifted have a place in a peaceful society. You don’t belong here, dreg. If we’re lucky, the new Magi will strike you down here and now.”
Mara’s eyes burned as Oona’s harsh words spoke to her every insecurity. Who was she kidding? They would never accept her. She would be forever cursed to be an outcast. The villagers sneered as she passed. She wiped a warm glob of spit from her cheek and threw a scathing look at the culprit. “Spitting? Really? Who’s the savage now?”
As they approached the carriage, the crowd parted, giving her the first glimpse of the Magi. He wore a spotless white robe with threads of glistening silver that contrasted sharply with his shoulder-length black hair. His back was to her as he spoke with her parents. To a casual observer, it might appear a polite, easy going conversation, but Mara knew better. Sarai’s shaking hands fidgeted with the yellow fabric of her best dress. Eli wore the blank expression he reserved for visits with people he couldn’t stand, but propriety required he entertain. She swallowed. If her parents were this nervous, she was doomed for sure.
“Nice knowing you, dreg.” Oona shoved her forward, causing her to careen into the Magi’s back.
The Magi spun around, catching her before she could fall to the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” Mara said. She closed her eyes, anticipating the blow that was certain to follow. When a moment passed with no pain, she opened her eyes.
His clean-shaven, angular face made him appear too young for his office. Early twenties, she decided. Handsome, too. Then her mind caught up with her inappropriate thoughts and she nearly gagged. She did not find the Magi attractive. Nope, not a chance. His eyebrow quirked up, as though he could read her thoughts. Now would definitely be the time to run.
Before she could bolt, the Magi stepped closer, capturing her hand and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “Hello, Mara,” he said cordially. Wait, could he read her thoughts? She snatched her hand away, tucking it safely behind her back. He chuckled. “Do you make a habit of stumbling into your superiors?”
Her stomach churned. With the old Magi, the rules were simple. Stay out of sight, out of the way, and she wouldn’t get hurt. How was she supposed to react to civility?
“No, um, Oona—"
“Yes, your bird friend was quite vocal about your status and offered several suggestions as to how I should deal with you.” He leaned close enough that his sweet minty breath tickled her face. “In fact, nearly everyone I have spoken with today has labeled you as some sort of troublemaker. Are you going to be a problem for me?”
She stared down at her boots, nails biting into the palms of her hands. Through clenched teeth, she said, “No, Magi.”
He tapped her under the chin, forcing her to meet his dark gaze. “Let me make one thing clear, Mara. Dreg or no, lawbreaking will not be tolerated.”
“Yes, Magi.” Mara stumbled to the side as the crowd of townspeople pressed in, chattering excitedly, eager to greet the Magi.
“Good. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” He gave her a quick nod before turning away.
***
That night, Mara stood at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for their stew. Who did that Magi think he was? It’s not like she stumbled into him on purpose. And then he threatened her? If he wanted to crack down on lawbreaking, he should start with Thomas and the rest of those sniveling idiots.
Chop chop chop.
“. . . gallivanting with that boy.”
Mara blinked and looked up. Eli sat in his favorite chair by the fireplace, whittling a table leg for his latest project. Just how long had he been talking before she noticed? “What?”
Sarai walked over to the sink, putting a chicken in a large copper pot and filling it with water. “We’re just worried about you.”
“You’ve taken too many risks the past few days. Just because the old Magi is dead doesn’t mean you’re safe,” Eli said, pointing at her with his whittling knife. “We heard about Thomas. What were you thinking, Mara? We raised you better than this.”
“But they were beating Tobias!”
Chop chop chop.
“That’s not how Thomas is spinning it. From his account, he and his friends were minding their own business and you threatened them with a knife. And you c
an bet he’s telling the story to everyone who will listen.”
“That’s not what happened! Just ask Ansel.”
Sarai scooped the onions and celery into the pot, then set a bundle of carrots in front of Mara. “We know that, but who do you think the elders will believe?”
“You can’t afford to be careless, not now. This new Magi . . .” Eli set aside the table leg and leaned forward. “Until we get a better sense of him, you need to stay home. No more running around with Ansel. No more antagonizing the other villagers. Just lay low for a few weeks.”
Chop chop chop.
It took her a second to realize she was bleeding. Sarai gasped and ran over, pressing a rag to the gash on her finger. After everything that had happened—Tobias being assaulted, learning of Ansel’s betrothal and then meeting the new Magi—it was too much. A cry broke free and Mara lost hold of her emotions. She leaned into her mother and wept.
“Shh, it’s okay Mara,” Sarai soothed, gently rubbing her back.
Mara wiped her tears angrily. “No, it’s not okay. I’m not doing anything wrong, so why should I be forced to hide?”
“As a dreg . . .”
Mara cut him off. “Why am I a dreg? What is wrong with me that the Magi didn’t Gift me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Sarai said, pulling her into a hug.
Mara shoved her away, glaring at Eli. “Then what happened on my Naming day?”
They exchanged a loaded look.
She gestured between them. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. How can you expect me to stay shut away if I don’t understand why? I’m not some fragile child you need to protect anymore.”
Neither of her parents responded. Typical. She growled in frustration. Why wouldn’t they just tell her the truth? If they would only be honest with her, she would stay locked inside as long as they wished. Anything to finally get the answers she needed. Their silence grew heavier and heavier as the seconds ticked by. The air inside the cabin became stifling and the walls pressed in around her. She could barely breathe. Desperate for some space, Mara ran outside, slamming the door behind her.
The sun was just beginning to set behind the trees, casting a soft glow over the town. The previously crowded streets were empty as families enjoyed their evening meals in the comfort of their homes. The apparent peace clashed with her inner turmoil.
She kicked a stone as she walked, half wishing she could take back the words, but not really. She needed to know. It was one thing to hide an unpleasant truth from a child, but Mara was almost an adult. She deserved answers. Why was she a dreg? The question had plagued her from the moment she knew what it meant to be a dreg. The Gifted in town could do amazing things. A Cultor could grow acres of crops in barren ground. An Irrigo could manipulate water with their will alone. A Saxum could throw a boulder a hundred feet. But a dreg? Apparently, the only thing she could do was hide in her house until she died of boredom.
She paused outside the only brick building in town, imposing in its stark contrast to Stonehollow’s ramshackle huts. Six rose bushes lined the front, their yellow petals just beginning to wilt. She glared in contempt at the black banner that hung over the doorway—an eight-pointed white star inside an inverted red triangle—the symbol of the Order. She fought the sudden urge to tear it down and burn it.
“Mara?”
She yelped in surprise, her posture going rigid at the sight of the Magi. In his arms, he carried a bundle of fresh herbs, the heady scent of lavender and garlic overpowering the rest. He had changed from his ceremonial robes into a more practical brown tunic. Two splotches of dirt marred the knees of his trousers. His hair was pulled back in a leather thong, enhancing the sharp planes of his face.
The dying glow of sunlight cast his features in a golden hue, making him even more handsome. For a moment, her brain ceased to function, and she spat out the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doing here?”
He looked at her as though he were questioning her sanity, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I live here. The more obvious question is, why are you here?”
Fantastic. The Magi probably thought she was a simpleton now as well as a criminal. She waved her hand casually and said, “Oh, you know. Just going for a walk.” She looked around, searching for an escape from this awkward conversation without sounding rude. “Well, I’d better head back home . . .”
“You’re bleeding,” he said, eyes narrowing in on her finger. He turned a suspicious gaze on her, his face hardening. “Exactly how were you injured?”
Mara covered her hand, realizing how it must look. A dreg, out alone at twilight, sporting a fresh injury. “It was an accident. I was cutting vegetables for my family’s dinner.”
“And rather than go to the Healer for medical attention, you decide to take a stroll?” Judging by the look on his face, the Magi didn’t believe her.
She fidgeted. “The Healer refuses to treat me.”
“Hmm.” The Magi stared at her for a long moment. He sighed. “Well, come on inside. I have some bandages and some salve.”
She shook her head, backing away. No way was she going inside that building. Did he think she was stupid? He probably had a dungeon, or a torture chamber in the basement. Admittedly, she’d never actually been inside, but she couldn’t imagine the old Magi hoarding doilies and kittens. “I’ll be fine, really. I should go back home.”
He pursed his lips then shrugged. “Very well. If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” the Magi said, walking up the shallow steps and inside without a backwards glance.
As soon as the heavy door clanged shut, she turned and ran towards home.
3
Two weeks had passed since the new Magi arrived in Stonehollow and Mara was losing her mind. Being cooped up inside was agony and she longed for the freedom of her trees. Ansel stopped by every day, concerned by her disappearance. And every day, she informed him that she was fine, then shut the door in his stunned face.
She had managed to sneak out to check on Tobias, but only at night after her parents had fallen asleep. So far, it seemed like Ansel’s warning had scared off the boys. For the first time in months, his aging body was free from injuries. In exchange for clean clothes, a sack of apples, and some hard cheese, Tobias had given her a dozen carved animals and figurines. Mara had thanked him, then set the toys on the doorsteps of families with children on her way home.
This morning, Mara sat at her family’s table, absentmindedly running her fingers over the scratches and grooves in its polished surface. Eli, a Farber, had built it as a wedding gift for Sarai. Her mother marveled over its beauty and durability even to this day. His Gift was carpentry, and most homes in Stonehollow proudly displayed his hand-crafted furniture.
Mara didn’t notice her father sit down until the package he slid across the table thumped against her elbow, driving away her daydreaming. With everything else going on, she had forgotten that today was her nineteenth birthday. She leaned forward eagerly, stopping just shy of bouncing in her seat. When Ansel turned nineteen last month, his family gave him a fine sword, crafted by a swordsmith in Merrowhaven. Mind racing with possibilities, Mara reached for it, pulling up short at Eli’s upraised hand.
“This is something of a family heirloom. My mother gave it to me when I reached adulthood. Now that you’re an adult, it’s time that I pass it on to you,” Eli said, eying the package longingly. For a second, Mara thought he might snatch it back. “It’s valuable, so wear it under your tunic.”
She opened the lid tentatively and gasped. Nestled inside the box was a small, triangular pendant made of silver with a round gem in the center. She picked it up, wondering why it felt warm to the touch. Had her father been wearing it recently? Mara held it up to the light, studying it closer. Runes that she couldn’t read were etched into each point. The dark gem seemed to change colors when she turned it every which way.
“It’s beautiful, but why haven’t you sold it? It must b
e worth a fortune.” But even as she said it, her hand grasped the pendant, hesitant to let it go.
“No! You can’t sell it!” Eli shouted, half-rising out of his seat.
Sarai walked over, setting two plates of hash on the table before placing a calming hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Now, Eli, there’s no need to raise your voice.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just priceless,” Eli said. His eyes remained fixed on the pendant, fingers twitching. “Keep it safe and pass it on to your eldest child when they come of age.”
Mara stood and walked to the kitchen, rummaging through drawers until she found a length of leather cording. She threaded the pendant onto the string and fastened it around her neck. “Dregs are forbidden to have children. You know this.”
Eli cleared his throat and, at a nod from Sarai, said, “It’s time we tell you about your Naming day.” Mara scrambled back to her seat, almost sending her plate of hash flying across the room. He waited for her to settle in before continuing. “First, you need to understand something. You and Tobias weren’t always the only dregs in Stonehollow.”
“What? Who was it? What happened to them?”
“I’m getting to that,” Eli replied. He took a bite of his hash and motioned for her to do the same. “Three years before you were born, a family of Irrigos, the Hartfelds, lived in the house that now belongs to Oona’s family. Their infant son had just turned a year of age and by all accounts, he was a normal, healthy little boy. The Magi refused to Gift him.”
“Why?”
“No one knows. The night after his Gifting, the family packed up and vanished.”
“So, what does that have to do with my Naming day?” Mara asked, shoveling in another forkful.
“Your mother and I had written off the boy’s Gifting as a fluke. Surely the Magi had Read something terrible for his future and left him a dreg to prevent it. Or perhaps his parents were not pious enough—not obedient to the Order. The elders suggested as much, so we did our best to be good, upstanding citizens. When the day of your Gifting arrived, we were nervous, as most new parents are, but what were the chances that you would be a dreg?”
The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus Page 3