25. Isolde
ISOLDE
Sarah's words shatter the crowd's unity like a stone through glass.
"Well, of course she'd defend him," Mrs. Penwhistle mutters loud enough for half the square to hear. "She works for the paper. They stick together."
"That's ridiculous," Alma snaps back, her cheeks still flushed with shame. "Sarah was there. She knows what happened."
The festival guests from other towns exchange confused glances, clearly lost in the sudden eruption of local politics. A merchant near my abandoned honey stall shakes his head and moves toward the cider booth, apparently deciding our drama isn't worth his time.
"Maybe we should listen to what Sarah's saying," Thornak's voice rumbles across the square. "Instead of deciding what we want to believe."
"Easy for you to say," Vaelis retorts, sneering. "You orcs are birds of a feather."
The crowd fractures visibly. Maddie steps closer to Thornak, her flour-dusted apron twisted in her hands. Several of the younger residents nod in agreement with Sarah's defense, while the older merchants cluster around Granda Oltar with worried expressions.
"This is what I was talking about," I say, my voice cutting through the rising chatter. Every head turns toward me, and I feel the intensity of their collective attention like a physical thing. "You're turning people into characters in your story instead of listening to what actually happened."
My fingers slip free from Draven's grip. The loss of contact sends a chill up my arm, but I need both hands for what comes next. I reach into my apron pocket and pull out the small leather pouch where I keep my festival earnings.
"The honey's fifty coppers a jar," I announce to the festival guests who've been caught in our local drama. "Take what you want and leave the money on the table."
"Izzy, what are you doing?" Maddie's voice cracks with concern.
My hands shake slightly, but I force them steady through sheer will.
"I'm removing myself from this circus before someone decides I'm the villain in act two."
"You don't have to leave," Draven's voice carries a rough edge I haven't heard before. "This isn't your fight."
I pause with a jar of lavender honey halfway to the crate, meeting his golden-brown eyes across the chaos of the fractured crowd. The afternoon light catches the sharp planes of his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.
"It became my fight the moment I knew you," I say quietly. "And I refuse to stand here while they dissect our personal business for entertainment."
The arguing continues behind us, voices rising and falling in waves of accusation and defense.
Sarah hovers near the barrel, her wings beating rapidly as she tries to interject reason into the chaos.
But the crowd has moved beyond listening, splitting into factions that seem more interested in being right than finding truth.
Without another word, I turn my back on the chaos and walk away. My boots click against the cobblestones with sharp precision, each step carrying me even further from the fractured crowd and their endless need to dissect every relationship like specimens in a jar.
"Izzy, wait!"
Maddie's voice follows me down the lane, breathless and urgent. Her footsteps pound behind mine, flour still dusting her skirts from the morning's baking rush.
I don't slow down until I reach the edge of town where the road splits toward the orchard. The sounds of the festival fade to a distant hum, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of my hives.
"Please, just—" Maddie catches up, pressing a hand to her side. "Let me explain."
"Explain what?" I pivot to face her, my hands clenched at my sides. "How you turned my personal life into public entertainment? How you convinced an entire town to invest in a story that was never theirs to tell and didn't bother correcting them about Vaelis?"
Her face crumples. "I never meant for it to go this far. I just thought—you both seemed so—"
"You thought wrong." The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don't soften them. "You saw what you wanted to see and decided everyone else should see it too. Just like everyone else in this damned village."
"I'm sorry." Maddie's voice cracks. "I'm so sorry, Izzy. I got carried away because I love you both and I wanted—"
"You wanted a fairy tale." I cross my arms, the late afternoon chill seeping through my sleeves. "Complete with a happy ending that would make everyone feel good about themselves."
She opens her mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand.
"I don't regret caring for him, Maddie. I don't regret any of it." The admission tastes bitter on my tongue. "But I won't stay somewhere like this. Where I have to compete with assumptions and expectations and whatever version of me fits best into other people's plans."
"He chose you today," she whispers. "In front of everyone."
The silence hangs between us, filled with the distinct sound of festival music that feels hollow now.
"I leave at dawn," I say finally.
"But—"
"You love this town, Maddie. You found your place here, your person, your future.
" I gesture toward the square where the sounds of celebration continue despite the drama.
"But I'm not interested in any sort of agreement with people who treat a good man like a tool instead of a person.
Who decide his worth based on how useful he is rather than who he is. "
Maddie's eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't argue. She knows I'm right.
"You won't wait until the end of the festival?" Maddie's voice carries a desperate edge, her fingers twisting the ties of her apron into knots.
I shake my head, already calculating how long it will take to pack my remaining inventory. "There's no point. Who's going to buy honey from the woman who disrupted their perfect narrative?"
"That's not—people will forget. They always do when something more interesting comes along."
"Will they?" I gesture toward the square where the sounds of heated discussion still drift on the evening air. "Because it sounds like they're having quite the time dissecting every detail of what just happened."
Maddie winces. "Mrs. Penwhistle will move on to someone else's business by next week."
"And in the meantime, I'm supposed to smile and pretend I don't hear the whispers? Stand behind my honey table while they debate whether I'm a homewrecker or just delusional?"
The festival music shifts to something livelier, fiddles and drums creating a cheerful backdrop that feels obscene against our conversation. Children's laughter carries on the breeze, innocent of the adult drama that's fractured their celebration.
"Some of those visitors from other towns seemed interested in your lavender blend," Maddie tries, her voice gaining strength. "The merchant from Millbrook was asking about wholesale orders."
"Before or after I became the center of Harvest Hollow's latest scandal?
" I pull my shawl tighter around my shoulders as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.
"Face it, Maddie. The moment I defended him, I painted a target on my back.
Half the town thinks I'm a fool for caring about someone they've decided is beneath their notice, and the other half thinks I'm a manipulator who stole their golden boy from his proper match. "
"Vaelis was never his match. Anyone with eyes could see that." Maddie's face shifts to sympathetic. "He's not good with words. You know that."
"I know that actions speak louder than words.
And his actions told me exactly where I stood in his priorities.
" I turn toward the path that leads to my temporary lodgings, my decision crystallizing with each step.
"I won't stay somewhere I have to compete with ghosts and assumptions and whatever version of me fits best into everyone else's story. "