17. Chapter 17
17
Chapter 17
Bronwen
I adjusted the vase on the mantle for the third time, stepping back to scrutinize the arrangement. No matter how I positioned it, something felt off. Mama had gone to a customer’s home to get measurements for a custom dress, and I needed anything to occupy my mind.
I had reorganized all of my dresses, moved things around in the kitchen to the way I thought it made more sense, and rearranged the entire sitting room.
But this vase . . .
Maybe it wasn’t the vase. Maybe it was me.
“Winnie,” Papa’s voice called from the doorway. I turned, surprised to see him standing there. Lately, he didn’t return home until supper time. “Would you like to train?”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard. I hadn’t sparred with him in years. He was always too busy. A flicker of excitement sparked in my chest, though I tried not to show it. “Yes,” I said quickly, setting the vase down. “I’d like that. ”
Minutes later, we stood in the clearing behind the barn. The crisp air nipped at my skin, but I barely noticed. Papa handed me a sword and held one for himself in his other hand. His grip was firm and confident as always, yet he looked completely relaxed.
“Show me what you’ve got,” he said, slipping into a ready stance.
I gripped the sword tightly and lunged without hesitation, swinging hard. He blocked the strike with ease, his movements smooth and practiced. I pivoted, aiming lower, but he sidestepped like it was nothing, countering with a quick tap with the flat side of the sword to my wrist that nearly made me lose my grip.
“You’re holding back,” he said. “If you don’t commit, you won’t land a hit.”
My jaw tightened. I adjusted my stance, shaking off the sting of his words. This time, I pressed forward with a series of rapid attacks, each one deflected as if he’d seen them coming before I’d even moved. My arms burned with the effort, but I refused to stop.
Finally, I saw an opening. Feinting left, I spun to strike from the right. For a moment, triumph surged through me—until he caught my blade mid-swing. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed me. The sword clattered to the ground, and I stumbled back, breathing hard.
“Better,” he said, lowering his own weapon. “You’re learning. But you’re too impatient. Patience wins fights, Bronwen.”
My frustration boiled over. “You didn’t even break a sweat,” I snapped, my chest heaving.
“That’s the point,” he replied with the faintest hint of a smile. He gestured toward the barn. “Now, help me clean the stalls.”
I groaned, bending to retrieve the sword. “You tricked me into this, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” he said, giving me a wink before walking toward the barn.
I followed him, muttering under my breath. My pride stung worse than my arms, but I couldn’t deny the flicker of satisfaction at having trained with him at all. It was a small victory, even if it didn’t feel like one.
The stench was unbearable, a rancid mix of hay and filth that clung to my nostrils no matter how hard I tried to breathe through my mouth. The damp chill of the barn seeped into my bones, and every step stirred up a fresh wave of earthy musk and manure. The shovel’s rough wooden handle rubbed against my palms, the friction growing worse with each pass over the filthy floor. My arms ached from the repetitive motion, muscles protesting with every scoop of soiled hay.
Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. It clung to me, mixing with the dirt and grime to create a sticky layer that made my skin crawl. Each scrape of the shovel against the floor seemed louder in the silence, a grating reminder of how far this task was from anything I wanted to be doing. One of Papa’s horses let out a disgruntled snort and shifted, knocking against the stall door with a dull thud.
“Move back,” I muttered, waving the shovel at it with a weak attempt at authority. The animal huffed at me, almost as if he was mocking my efforts.
As I stepped back to avoid its restless movements, my boot landed squarely in a fresh pile. The sickening squelch was immediate, the warmth of it pressing against the worn leather. A string of curses escaped my lips as I shook my foot furiously, trying in vain to rid myself of the mess.
“Gods be damned,” I hissed, my voice echoing in the near-empty barn. The frustration in my tone surprised even me. I glanced toward the open barn door, half-hoping Papa hadn’t heard.
“Bronwen!” Papa’s voice boomed from outside the barn. He rarely used my real name, and hearing it now made my stomach twist.
I wiped at my forehead, smearing dirt in the process. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather be struck down right now than have to do this any longer,” I shouted back, throwing the shovel down with a loud clang. The echo rang through the barn, amplifying my frustration.
Without waiting for his response, I stormed toward Shadow’s stall. The dark stallion’s ears flicked as I approached, his large eyes watching me with curiosity.
“Let’s go,” I muttered, lifting the latch on the stall door. Shadow stepped forward obediently, his hooves clacking against the wooden floor. I heard Papa’s heavy footsteps entering the barn, his voice calling after me, but I ignored him. With no time to saddle him, I mounted Shadow and nudged his side with my boot, sending us flying past Papa.
“Bronwen, get back here!” Papa’s tone was sharper now, but I refused to look back.
“Sorry, Papa,” I muttered under my breath. With a nudge of my heels, Shadow took off into the woods, his powerful strides eating up the distance between us and the barn.
The forest was crisp and quiet, the ground softened by the scattered leaves Shadow’s hooves kicked up. The wind was brisk but not biting, brushing against my face and sending loose strands of hair flying out of my braid. I regretted not grabbing my cloak, though the coolness of the air felt refreshing in a way, stirring something restless inside me. The familiar rhythm of Shadow’s gait usually soothed me, but today it only deepened the ache in my chest.
Adar should have been here. He would have found a way to make this task bearable, or at least distract me with one of his ridiculous stories. The thought of him made my throat tighten. I missed him more than I cared to admit, and his absence only amplified the weight of the responsibilities I felt.
Shadow suddenly slowed, his ears twitching. I tightened my grip on his mane as he came to an abrupt halt.
“Whoa,” I said, steadying myself as my body slid forward. Shadow’s nostrils flared, and his muscles tensed beneath me. My pulse quickened as I followed his gaze.
A figure stood in the path ahead, silhouetted against the dimming light filtering through the trees. My breath caught as he turned, his dark eyes sweeping over me with an infuriating smirk.
August.
He wore a loose white shirt tucked into brown pants, the simplicity of his attire somehow making him look even more untouchable.
How did he know where I would be? A chilling breeze raised goosebumps on the back of my neck, reminding me that I wasn’t wearing my cloak.
My scent had called for him, even though I didn’t mean to. He took a step toward me, and Shadow stirred.
“August,” I warned, my voice sharper than intended, but the events from the last time he found me on Shadow flashed in my mind—the pain of a mutilated wrist, the anger that he bested me, it all.
He held up his hands in mock surrender, taking a step back. “I just wanted to tell you that I learned something about Carrow.”
My heart thudded painfully in my chest. “What? When?”
“Yesterday,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, crossing his arms.
“And you couldn’t have told me last night?” I asked, the words laced with irritation.
He scoffed, the sound grating. “You didn’t give me a chance.”
“I gave you long enough, and you chose to waste it,” I shot back.
“It’s never a waste,” he said, his smirk deepening. His eyes lingered on me, their gaze unsettling. “Anyway, I asked around, and I think I may know where the spell was completed.”
My pulse quickened, though I tried to hide it. How much could I trust him? His tone was light, almost mocking, yet there was something about the way he held my gaze that made me pause. Was he actually being helpful for once?
I blinked, my frustration momentarily overshadowed by curiosity. “How would that help?”
He shrugged again. “Maybe something was left behind.”
“It’s been thousands of years,” I said, shaking my head. “There wouldn’t be anything left.”
“Fine,” he said, turning away with an exaggerated sigh.
I gritted my teeth, hating myself for what I was about to do. I called after him. “Wait, August.”
He turned back, his smirk returning. “Yes, Winnie?” His voice was laced together like a sonnet, every syllable calculated to irritate me.
“If you’re lying—”
“Do you really think I’d waste my time lying to you?” he interrupted, feigning offense. “Winnie, you wound me.”
“Take me.” It came out like a demand, exactly how I intended. My chest tightened as the words hung in the air between us.
His smile widened, but his expression shifted slightly, almost as if he were amused and perplexed at the same time. Then, he wrinkled his nose. “You should clean yourself first.”
My glare deepened, but I couldn’t stop myself from brushing the stray hair from my face. The realization hit me like a slap—I wasn’t perfectly done today. My hair wasn’t pinned neatly, and my clothes weren’t pristine. Of course he noticed. And he’d never let me live it down.
“Should we meet tonight?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
“Nothing would make me happier,” he said with mock sincerity, “but I have other . . . things that need tending to. Besides, it’s a long ride. We have to go to Bodaira.”
Bodaira. Of course, it had to be Bodaira. My stomach twisted at the thought of it.
“Are we going to ride?”
He let out a laugh, the sound soft but grating. “Do you think a horse would let me close enough to mount it?”
“If we walk, it will take a day just to get there.”
“We’ll work out the details tomorrow. Meet me at our spot,” he said with a wink before disappearing into the shadows.
My heart raced with a mix of anger and anticipation. What was I getting myself into ?
I gave Shadow a kick and instructed him to turn back around. He snorted, his way of telling me he didn’t want our ride to end, but I had to go home. Especially now that I knew my once private rides where the only thing I may come across was a squirrel was now ruined by the worst possible creature.
And I desperately needed a bath.
Even though it was just August, I could never let him see me like this again.