Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
It suddenly felt like I was living in a cage.
But that was silly. Granny did all this to protect me. To keep her competitors from getting to me and kidnapping or killing me. From destroying the village. These safety systems were in place to safeguard our homes. I knew they were necessary. She’d spent many nights, especially over the last three years, going over why.
I’d need to figure this out. I could handle more workload. I could. I could draw less, write less, and work more. It would be fine. We’d figure this out.
As I watched the flame, though, I couldn’t help the little voice in the back of my brain wondering what would happen if I didn’t heed the warning.
Chapter 5
Aurelia
The next afternoon, just outside the work shed, I glanced up to find Xarion sauntering toward me. He swung his long arms with a boyish grin spread across his freckled face. Once close, he leaned against a post in the fence by the work shed. The sun highlighted streaks of blond in his otherwise light brown hair.
“What’s up, Red?” He squinted into the sun.
I used my forearm to wipe the sweat away from my face, tempering my annoyance at today’s work being interrupted.
He was about the same age as me—twenty-seven—and had been the closest thing to a friend I’d ever had. His dad had taken off when he was a baby, and his mom hadn’t been overly interested in his upbringing. From twelve to seventeen, we’d hung out almost every day, at first running through the trees or playing ball in the village square, and then experiencing all our intimate firsts together.
Nothing was forever, though. My life had always been proof of that. When he’d started to hang out with his male friends more often, his interest in me quickly waned. Fraternizing with me subjected him to a life of ridicule. Thankfully, by that age, I was already hardened to the emotional backlash of being cast aside or chased away.
He only occasionally stopped by work now, sharing a little gossip and venting about his life. It was a nice distraction from an often mundane existence. It always had been. After the meeting with Granny last night, today just happened to be bad timing.
I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Red? Have you gone blind? My hair is black, not red.” I smashed some Twilight Thistle with a pestle.
“It’s not all black.”
I rolled my eyes. “Black with streaks of gray, then, okay? Let’s all take a moment to notice my premature aging.”
“It’s white, and it’s not premature aging or you wouldn’t have had it when you first got here.”
Premature aging sounded better than extreme trauma. Truth was, I’d developed one streak at a time, each highlighting some terrible event from my past. Since I’d met Granny, I hadn’t developed any new streaks. I’d take rules and punishments over my past any day.
“Sure, white, why not?” I said with a shrug. “Not red, though, like Nadia’s. Who everyone calls Red . . .”
“But Nadia didn’t get a fancy red cloak from Granny and you did.”
I squinted up at him. “Who’s been talking?”
“Joss, who heard from Alexander.”
Alexander, Granny’s chief muscle. The guy had a mean streak ten miles wide and he didn’t care who he took it out on. He liked the feel of bones breaking under his fists. He’d said as much when he’d broken a couple of my ribs. With a smile.
“Not wise, passing around Alexander’s gossip,” I said noncommittally, going back to my work.
“So Granny didn’t get you a lavish gift?”
“It’s just a cloak,” I deflected.
“It’s a velvet cloak with silk lining and it cost her a fortune. Alexander was there when she bought it. She’s gotta keep her prized drug maker warm in the cold.”
“Cute,” I murmured, emptying the fine powder into a bowl and adding more thistle into my mortar.
His smile slipped a bit. “Does it bother you, what the village does now?”
“How many times are you going to ask me this question?” I worked the thistle.
“I don’t know. At least once more, probably.” He grinned at me, but his expression faded quickly. “It’s just . . . it seems like things are getting more serious.”
I paused in my work.
I hadn’t been joking; it really wasn’t wise to pass on anything Alexander said. He sampled the product, but he was smart about it when he did; he made sure Granny wouldn’t know. Sometimes, when he was in the midst of a journey, he talked. Often it was about trivial matters, like the women he bedded on the Outside, or how nice his horse was—something the village wasn’t afforded. Sometimes, though, he talked about the business. About Granny’s strategies and how things were going. On those occasions, once he’d sobered up, he’d realized he’d made a grave mistake. Granny prized him for his discretion, or so I’d heard. On the Outside, he was her most trusted helper. If she knew he’d loosened his lips when in the village, she’d be furious. To stop that from happening, he silenced those he’d told—almost always with his fists.