16. Chapter 16
16
Chapter 16
Bronwen
“Can you stop?” I snatched the fabric from his hands, glaring up at him. His presence was suffocating, a constant reminder of my inability to keep him away. Why couldn’t he leave me in peace?
“I like this work-for-money thing,” August said, grabbing another shirt from the basket and folding it—completely wrong, of course. “It’s keeping me grounded.”
I clenched my teeth, trying to focus on the task in front of me. My hands moved mechanically, folding a shirt into neat, precise lines, but my mind was elsewhere—fixated on him, the way his smirk lingered like a challenge I couldn’t ignore. Why did he insist on tormenting me?
“What about before you were a vampire? You never worked?” I whispered, barely audible to my own ears, to ensure no one around could hear.
“I’m high born, Winnie,” he replied with a sigh.
“Of course you were.” I rolled my eyes, but the curiosity nagged at me. What kind of life had he lived before all this? And why did I care?
A fragile truce may have been in place, but he’d never annoyed me as much as he did now. He’d practically run to our booth when he saw us there and made sure to compliment Mama relentlessly. I would’ve preferred her to shrug him off, but instead, she held on to every word he said as though he were some noble hero.
He let out a little laugh before placing the terribly folded shirt on top of my perfect stack. My fingers twitched at the sight of the mess. Couldn’t he leave anything untouched?
“And is this what you dream for yourself?” he asked, gesturing toward the booth. “A life as a seamstress?”
I shot him a look. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”
“No, Winnie, I’m all yours.” His grin was as infuriating as ever.
I rolled my eyes.
“Winnie, I am going to grab some lavender soap from the Tolberts’ booth before they sell out,” Mama said, interrupting my brewing argument with August. “Will the two of you be alright until I return?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but August cut me off.
“Oh, Odelia, I will guard Winnie and the booth with my life,” he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.
I elbowed him in the side, earning a low grunt, and Mama laughed softly before walking away. I turned back to the table, scanning the setup to see what was missing. The weather was growing colder, and I knew women would soon be looking for shawls for extra warmth. Realizing we hadn’t put any out yet, I turned to grab a few from one of the baskets .
“Bronwen?”
Lowen’s voice startled me, and I jumped slightly, nearly dropping the shawls. When I turned around, his eyes locked on mine, soft and pleading. Before I could say anything, August stepped forward, towering over him with a sharp glare.
“And you are?” August asked, his tone as sharp as a blade.
“Lowen Reeves,” he replied, hesitating briefly before looking back at me. “Bronwen, I’m—”
“Lowen?” August interrupted, drawing out the word as if testing its taste. He scrunched his nose. “I’ve heard that name before. What does it mean?” He stared at Lowen, his masked brown eyes glinting like they were digging into his soul.
Lowen blinked, confusion flashing across his face. “I’m not sure,” he said, his voice uneasy before he quickly locked his eyes back on me. “I’m sor—”
“Friend!” August slapped his hands on the table loudly enough to make Lowen flinch and leaned closer. “It means friend,” he said with a wicked grin, his tone mockingly cheerful.
Lowen’s unease deepened, and he stepped back, glancing between August and me. “Bronwen, I need to talk—”
“Oh, but I think she’s already heard enough, haven’t you, Winnie?”
Lowen’s jaw tightened, his words swallowed as he turned and left.
“What was that?” I asked, turning to glare at August. “I’ve never seen Lowen back off so easily.”
August rolled his eyes. “That is how you choose to spend your time?” He gestured toward the retreating figure. “Truly disgusting.”
I scoffed, shaking my head as I placed the shawls on the table. “How I spend my time is none of your concern.”
August’s expression turned mockingly aghast. “It is truly disgusting to think that you’ve touched me with the same hands you’ve touched him.”
I raised an eyebrow, not missing the opportunity to needle him. “I touch him for pleasure for both of us, and you . . . well, I suppose it’s pleasure for me and—” I placed my hand on his arm, pulling a small amount of magic, just enough to make his jaw tighten and a low growl escape his throat. “Pain for you.”
His eyes burned into mine, and I saw a flicker of something I hadn’t seen before he stepped back, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. Leaning close, he whispered, “I love when you talk dirty to me, Winnie.”
I opened my mouth, but quickly pressed my lips together when I saw Mama stepping through the crowd, her arms full of lavender soap.
“Oh, Odelia, it was lovely to see you,” August said, stepping back with exaggerated politeness. “But I fear I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
I couldn’t resist. “When has that ever stopped you before?”
Mama gasped. “Winnie!”
Before I could respond, another voice interrupted, cutting through Market’s chatter like a blade. “Odelia, how nice to see you here,” a sharp, nasally tone chimed in. I turned to see Mrs. Tralith, a rival vendor whose stall was infamous for poorly made wares and even poorer manners.
Mama stiffened beside me, offering a polite but strained smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Tralith.”
Mrs. Tralith’s eyes darted toward our booth, narrowing as they settled on the neatly arranged shirts and breeches. “I see you’re doing well for yourself,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Though I can’t help but notice how much business you seem to be pulling from others. Some might call it . . . unfair.”
Mama’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. I felt a flare of anger rise in my chest. How dare she?
“Unfair?” I echoed, stepping forward before Mama could stop me. “If people prefer our work, maybe it’s because we put actual effort into it. Unlike some who sell scraps disguised as quality.” My voice carried, earning a few curious glances from nearby vendors and shoppers.
Mrs. Tralith’s face flushed red, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. “I—I was merely making an observation,” she sputtered.
“And I’m making one too,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “If you spent less time complaining and more time improving, maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about who’s doing better.”
“Bronwen,” Mama whispered, her tone cautionary, but I didn’t back down.
“You’re just like your father,” Mrs. Tralith muttered.
“Oh, you haven’t seen my father yet.” I leaned over the table. “I suggest you return to your booth before there isn’t a booth left.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No—” Mama cut in.
“Yes.” I glared at Mrs. Tralith.
Mrs. Tralith straightened her back, her face a mix of anger and humiliation. “Well, I never—”
“And you never will,” I cut in, my voice sharp. “So maybe it’s best if you never come over here again. ”
She sniffed indignantly and turned on her heel, storming off without another word. Mama sighed heavily beside me, shaking her head.
“Winnie, you didn’t need to do that,” she said softly, her eyes flicking toward the onlookers who quickly returned to their shopping.
“Yes, I did,” I said firmly, though my pulse still raced from the confrontation. “She had no right to speak to you like that.”
Mama placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, her expression softening. “Sometimes strength isn’t about fighting back, Winnie. It’s about knowing when to let things go.”
I frowned. “Not when it comes to you.”
Mama said nothing, turning back to the booth to rearrange the stacks of clothing that had shifted in the commotion.
As Market’s noise resumed around us, I glanced at August who managed to stay silent during the confrontation. His eyes were on me, and he had a smile plastered on his full lips.
“What?” I bit out.
He shifted his eyes to the crowd ahead. “Nothing.”
***
The sun had gone down hours ago. I contemplated if I could handle another conversation with August today, but the curiosity about Carrow was eating me alive. I never got the chance at Market to ask about him, and I didn’t want to drag this out longer than I had to. My cloak was used for warmth tonight, but I kept the hood down. He had to find me.
I came to the pond, the air cold and still. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting an eerie glow over the clearing. August appeared from the shadows, his usual smirk in place, his presence an immediate irritation.
“Do we have our own special spot now?”
“Tell me about Carrow,” I said before his usual theatrics continued.
“What do you know about Carrow?” he asked, leaning lazily against a tree as if we were about to have a pleasant chat.
I crossed my arms, trying my best not to give in. I knew he was trying to get under my skin. “He was some kind of faerie from Alentara that helped a witch with a spell in turn of her completing an immortality spell for him The spell turned him into a vampire. Our entire coven was punished because she messed with the balance of nature in Joveryn which has caused us to no longer be feared and instead we are persecuted.”
“That is . . . one way to put it,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“What do you mean?”
His smirk deepened. “Carrow,” he said, rolling the name around like a fine wine. “Do you think he’ll save you from your nightmares, Winnie? Or did you just fix your little face for my benefit?”
My patience snapped like a dry twig. “I fixed my appearance because I can’t afford to look like death warmed over, unlike you,” I shot back. “Now answer the question.”
He chuckled, his red eyes glinting in the dim light. “Touchy. You really must not be sleeping. Perhaps it’s Lowen keeping you up?”
I clenched my fists. “Lowen has nothing to do with this.”
“He’s got everything to do with it,” August said, his tone as smug as ever. “A little ‘friend’ to distract you from what you’re really afraid of. Tell me, did he notice those little dark circles before you wiped them away? Or is he as blind as you are to his mediocrity?”
I stepped closer, my patience fraying.
“Have you told him how I am the one you dream of?”
My patience snapped like the twigs beneath my steps. I closed in the distance.
“I changed my mind,” I said sharply, reaching for the stake on my thigh. I swung, but he dodged it slightly. It cut through the skin on his arm.
“Winnie,” he hissed, clutching the wound.
I swung again, but he caught my wrist. Desperately, I mumbled nonsense words, trying to mimic spells I’d heard Papa use. His eyes widened in confusion, and I used the distraction to sweep his legs out from under him. He pulled me down with him, but I quickly straddled him, gripping his shoulders.
“Do it!” he shouted, his voice filled with equal parts anger and desperation.
I wanted to. The magic beneath my hands called to me, intoxicating and wild. It whispered promises of power and relief from the nightmares. But I couldn’t.
My grip tightened as I stared down at him, his red eyes blazing with challenge and something I couldn’t place.
“Lost your chance,” he muttered, and in one swift motion, he flipped us. Now he was the one pinning me, his hands gripping my wrists.
His gaze swept over me, lingering, and for a moment, he looked at me like I was something more than prey. My breath hitched.
Before I could speak, he was gone.
I sat up, scanning the clearing for any sign of him. Silence pressed around me, heavy and unnerving. I shook my head, trying to banish the flustered thoughts swirling in my mind.
What was wrong with me?
***
“Do you know what I am?” he whispered, his voice a chilling caress against my ear.
“Yes,” I whimpered, my back pressed hard against the cold, damp wall of a narrow alley. My heart thundered in my chest. Why had I followed him? What was I thinking?
“Shhhh.” He placed a finger against my trembling lips, his touch deceptively gentle. “There’s no reason to cry. I’ll make it quick.”
Tears blurred my vision as my thoughts raced to my family. Mama, her hands too weak to tend to the garden alone. My little brother, relying on me to guide him, even though I was still just a girl trying to figure out how to be enough for all of them.
“Please,” I choked out, my voice barely audible. “They need me.”
His crimson eyes softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something that might have been pity—or amusement. He brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch tender and horrifying all at once.
“Do you think that matters to me?” His voice dropped, resonating with a darkness that made my blood run cold.
Before I could answer, his face twisted into something monstrous. Shadows pooled under his eyes, and his mouth opened to reveal long, gleaming fangs. I tried to scream, but it caught in my throat as he lunged forward.
The pain was instant and excruciating. His fangs pierced my neck, and I felt a searing heat flood my veins. My breath hitched, escaping in broken gasps as he held me in place .
My hands clutched at his shirt, my fingers trembling, but my strength was draining fast. Each second he fed sapped more of my will to fight. My legs buckled beneath me, and I would have collapsed if he hadn’t pinned me against the wall.
The smell of blood was overwhelming—metallic, sharp, suffocating. Chills rippled through my body, a cold that burrowed deep into my bones. I was so tired. My eyelids grew heavy, the alley blurring at the edges of my vision.
If I closed my eyes, maybe it would stop. Maybe it would all end. Maybe—
I woke with a violent gasp, my chest heaving as I clutched the blankets to my neck. The room was dark, the faint light of the moon casting shadows across the walls. My heart pounded, echoing in my ears like a war drum.
The need for sleep still clawed at me, but it was useless. The memory of his voice, his touch, lingered like a phantom, refusing to let me drift off again. My hands trembled as I pulled the blanket tighter, trying to ground myself in the present.
Was finding Carrow really worth this? How many more nights could I endure these nightmares before they consumed not just my dreams, but my reality too? How much longer could I keep this up before the fight swallowed me whole?
I had to keep going. For Papa, for Mama, for Adar. For the people who needed me to be strong, even when I felt like I was breaking. Even if this killed me in the end, I had to fight for them.