3. Nora
3
Nora
T he second I stepped through the front door, as if she possessed magical hearing, Eucinda began her chorus of reprimands.
“Nora, I told you not to dawdle! Bring the bread to the kitchen, now!” Her sharp tongue cut through the rooms and walls separating us.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I released a heavy sigh. Just then my saving grace, Melody, floated into the foyer. My beautiful, buxom sister with long blonde hair that had the prettiest waves cascading down her back with thick bangs pristinely parted in the middle.
“I’ll take it.” She offered her beaming smile, blue eyes sparkling with the kindness she always exuded.
My shoulders slumped, relieved to avoid the interaction with Eucinda. “Thank you, Mel.” I handed her the bag of loaves.
“You work tonight, yes?”
“I do. I’ll be heading out early, though.” As close as Mel and I were, and always had been, I hadn’t shared with her that I trained with Odion. It would only worry her. She’d caught me a few times with scrapes and bruises, and my avoiding an explanation didn’t go over her head.
“Mr. Pepins is sending over a whole roast. You’ll eat before you go,” she commanded, but as stern as a fairy. She tossed a sly glance at me.
I chuckled. “One of these days I’ll be able to say no to you. You know that, right?”
She shrugged in a somehow ethereal manner, then took a delicate step into the next room while twirling in her favorite floral dress. “We’ll see.” The delight on her face could only make me smile. Melody had to be the sweetest, most gentle person in the entire kingdom, the one benefit of living under this roof. If Melody hadn’t advocated for me over the years, using her sweet charm to influence her bitch of a mother, I might have been kicked out, forced to live on the streets, begging for food.
Kenzie’s nagging voice appeared from behind me, making my body jerk. I whipped around to see our youngest sister’s strawberry blonde mop atop her head with bangs similar to Melody’s. “‘Bout time you got back here. You left the mop out. I could have tripped over it!” Like mother, like daughter.
“Sorry Kenzie. I’m glad you managed to avoid the mop and all its peril,” I said sardonically.
“Just clean it up.”
I could feel the daggers her glare shot at the back of my head. She clipped my shoulder as she barged past, and I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to refrain from saying something that would only get me into more trouble with Eucinda.
Using Melody as a human shield as we approached the back hall, I skirted behind, slipping into the kitchen to avoid Eucinda spotting me from her chair.
“Nora brought back the bread, mother,” Melody informed her.
“Good, dearest. That shall make a lovely pairing with the roast. Mr. Pepins is already taking care of this family. Don’t you agree, dear?”
“Yes, a very generous man,” Melody replied, though, even from the kitchen, I could hear her apprehension.
With each passing day, Eucinda got closer and closer to marrying Melody off. At first she considered her a prize, only letting the most respectable men with the deepest pockets call on her fair daughter. Melody had been more than happy to set herself loose on the marriage market. Her beauty was renowned, and if one didn’t work out, the possibility of another equally wealthy suitor coming around remained abundant.
These days, Melody knew her time was running short. Mr. Pepins had one-tenth the wealth as her previous date, but his eagerness shone brighter than the others—a reason Eucinda arranged their meeting. Nearing middle age, he’d made it known he wanted children, meaning he was working on an expedited timeline. Maybe in his youth he had an appeal, but time had not been kind to him. I think I could count the four long hairs he attempted to conceal his bald spot with.
Melody entered the kitchen, carrying the faintest glimmer of concern.
“How are you feeling about him?” I asked, keeping my voice low so Eucinda wouldn’t hear and delegate some new task.
Her gaze didn’t rise to mine, and her posture stiffened. “He’s a very lovely man. Has never said an unkind thing in my presence.”
“Does he know about the blessing?”
That made her soulful eyes drift to mine. “No.”
I probed with casualness, “How do you want him to react when you do?”
“I don’t know.” She brought her full, plump bottom lip into her mouth. I knew she took on the responsibility of future financial relief, and if I had to pick out of a crowd, he would not be the one I’d match her with. Still, something else lingered beneath the surface of my picturesque sister.
“Mel?”
She hesitated, but leaned over the counter to keep it between the two of us. “What if he leaves, like all the others? What if he’s my last option?” Fear twinkled in her ocean eyes, the color resembling a stormy sea. “This might be my last chance to have a family, but this stupid blessing could ruin it.”
My heart split. All her life she’d dreamed of finding love, having children. But heartbreak after heartbreak from men she actually fancied after she revealed her possession of magic made that dream seem out of reach. I didn’t want her to end up with Mr. Pepins; what a bland life that would be. She had a destiny reserved for greatness. I’d always recognized it, but I also wanted her to be happy. If settling is what would make her happy, I would support her.
Maybe selfishly I still hoped Pepins would respond poorly and leave Melody alone. I had all the confidence in the world that something great would come along for her, but I could see her light of hope dwindling. That twisted a corkscrew of sorrow into my heart.
Reaching across the butcher block island, past the empty fruit bowl, I rested my hand over hers. “It’s going to be okay, Mel. However it turns out, you have me.” I smiled, offering reassurance in the only way I could. The smile she flashed back at me faltered from her usual grace.
I wished I could ease her worries more. She set the loaves on the counter, and I grabbed our largest serrated knife to slice through the firm crust. A knock came from the kitchen door behind me, and Melody lit up to go answer it. She thanked the maid who brought over the roast and set it on the counter.
The smell of perfectly charred meat blossomed from the steam when she removed the pot lid, and my mouth watered. Drawn to it like a helpless moth to an enchanting flame, my worries of hunger over the next few days eased. There’d be enough here for each of us to eat twice for three days. That was the best kind of luxury we could experience lately.
The clock on the wall ticked in rhythm, letting me know I had only a handful of minutes before needing to leave. Melody noted my gaze. “Eat this before you go.” She’d already started preparing my plate.
I came up from behind, wrapping my arms around her curvaceous, attention-drawing waist, and rested my chin upon her shoulder. “Thanks, Mel. You’re so good to me.”
She gently leaned her head against mine. “What else are sisters for?”
I ate too much. Or maybe I ate a normal amount, but my shrinking stomach had a hard time accommodating the gifted delicacy. My walk across town to Odion’s land was bloated and uncomfortable, but the ticking clock had us starting our session promptly when I reached my destination.
Two daggers strapped to my body, one on my hip and the other on my thigh. Odion had nearly tossed them away years ago, not even caring to melt them down for something else. They were tarnished with age, and no longer balanced correctly. I couldn’t help myself from retrieving them from his bin, but he’d caught me.
Who knew a blacksmith and a substandard thief would begin a friendship that way? My father would have been ashamed if he knew I swiped the occasional discarded item. But then again, he’d left me no choice, really. After all, it was his poor business decisions that put us in our unfavorable circumstance. One couldn’t survive on a diet of morality and ethics.
When Odion recanted the story of finding me, as he often loved to do, he spoke of a thin little scrap of a girl rummaging through trash. He didn’t rat me out to the guards or scold me. Instead, he’d explained why the blades had lost their value.
Obviously they captured my interest, and I couldn’t afford an upgrade, so he let me keep them. To reduce the risk of hurting myself, he offered to teach me how to use them. Proper grip and techniques. Appropriate care and cleaning.
Thus, this cheery, middle-aged blacksmith armed a girl who had nothing to defend. At least, back then I didn’t.
“Again,” he barked. His massive arms of fat and muscle clenched around me.
My lungs burned from practicing this maneuver half a dozen times. “Feet up,” I recited, making him hold all of my weight before using gravity’s momentum to slam them back on the ground. His attempt to keep a hold on me forced him to lean forward. Shooting my left heel back between his legs as he bent over, I tossed my head back.
If he hadn’t been the one training me, my skull would have cracked his nose. He pretended as if I had, groaning in fake pain and releasing me to bring his hands to his face. I crouched on the ground, using all my force to sweep my already perfectly placed wedged leg. He wobbled, and faking disorientation from the nose hit, tumbled to the ground in a rehearsed fall.
Utilizing the distance, I propelled myself out of his reach, somersaulting away and jumping up to my feet. In a swift, smooth motion, I unsheathed the daggers from my thigh and hip and stood in a fighting stance. A strand of my nearly black hair that slipped free from my tight braid stuck to my slick forehead.
“Good job, Nora. If you can take down someone my size, you’ll have no problem against any others,” he praised as he rose to his feet, bending backwards to stretch his aging torso.
My raised arms fell from position, and I wiped the hair and sweat from my brow. “My other opponents won’t be making themselves fall for my benefit, though.”
“Hey, the fall may have been controlled, but you knocked me off balance. Those moments are all you need to get the upper hand.”
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t boost my confidence. Odion was a giant of a man, and I stood only to five-feet-four inches, five inches maybe. I didn’t need to have three hundred pounds of muscle on me to stand a fighting chance, just the right techniques.
“Alright, now that you’ve managed to get free of capture, you’ll have really pissed them off.” He freed his sword from its sheath.
“Really?” I asked with an arched brow, passing glances between my tiny little daggers. What kind of unfair nonsense was this?
“You think the guards are going to go easy on you? My girl, you’ll have just knocked them on their ass. They’re gonna be out for blood.” He balanced on his feet, pointing the blade in my direction. “Now come at me, slowly.”
My fatiguing muscles didn’t help my form, but I raised my arms, holding my daggers level with my chest, and inched toward him.
“Chances are, their anger and embarrassment will have fueled them to want to deliver an immediate lethal strike.” He raised the sword over his head, the metal begging to drop and slice me in two. “You need to use their momentum against them. When I start to bring this down, I’ve lost all control. Everything in me is set to follow the strike through to the end. You need to sidestep out of the way. You’ll spin, and when the sword has finished its path, you need to have already struck.”
“Got it.” Shifting my weight from side to side, keeping myself limber, he slowly brought the sword down. I spun on my heel, rotating until I faced him again, and mimicked the path of my dagger plunging into Odion’s neck.
“Good. Again.”
We rehearsed the move ten more times. Each time he’d increase the speed, getting me used to reacting quickly. He even brought me close to one of his work tables, where I couldn’t spin to the right as I had been. I didn’t have a fast enough response time moving in my less dominant direction, so I had to somersault away. He warned me how it gave him the opportunity to strike before I could reach him with a dagger. I’d have to practice that until it felt just as natural as turning right.
We concluded the session as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Odion’s home sat at the edge of town, so he took advantage of the surrounding forest. He’d cleared out a circle just through the trees where he could forge more metal and it gave us a space to train, hidden from curious eyes.
He tossed me a clean rag he’d dipped into the rain barrel, and I wiped the sweat from my face, neck, back, and minimal cleavage briefly when he turned away.
“You’re progressing nicely,” Odion complimented while returning his weapons to the host of racks that bordered the small field.
“I can feel it. It’s becoming second nature.”
He paused, not lifting his head from returning the sword to its rack. “You know I only teach you for defense , right?”
His fatherly tone came out in full force. Every so often, he’d reiterate that point, and my response was always the same.
“I know.” Said as if I agreed to those terms.
“I’m serious, Nora.” His gaze pierced through me with a stern intensity he hadn’t given before.
A lump formed in my throat, and I tried not swallowing so I didn’t look guilty. I nodded. “I know.” A lighthearted inflection would hopefully diffuse the situation.
He sighed and tore his stare away, and I gulped down the deceptive guilt that lingered. “I need to get going to my shift. Thanks, Odion. You’re the best.”
“Too good, I fear,” he muttered. I swore he was part human, part truth decipherer—if that were a thing. Maybe he just knew how to read me a little too well.
I grabbed my satchel filled with a set of clean clothes for work and headed back into town. By the time I reached the rusty-colored wooden tavern, evening blue enveloped the sky. The walk had cooled my overworked body, and the chill of night now pebbled my skin. Perfect timing as I opened the door.
The warmth from the large hearth, multiple torch lamps on the wall, and the sea of bodies surrounded me in an instant. The stale smell of ale soaked every floorboard, but roasting meat masked majority of it.
Snaking through the crowd, I made my way to the back hall. Helena, the nightly bartender, wiped the countertop. Her frizzy blonde curls topped her head in a loose mess, and her apron cinched her waist between her curvy features. She tipped her chin in greeting when she saw me, and I did the same. Once I got to the back, I quickly stripped out of my sweat dried clothes and donned the dark linen shirt and pants that identified me as staff.
Tossing my hair up, I wrapped it around itself and slipped a long-handled spoon through to keep it in place. My night of aching muscles, touchy men, and vulgar names was just about to get started. Lucky me.
The shift began as did most, making the rounds to the tables to collect used dishware and clean the sticky surfaces. Having no piles of vomit to take care of was nice, though. Not all shifts were as fortunate.
As the hours dragged on and I barely kept this place together, Helena flagged me over the crowd. I picked up empty mugs on my way, and traded her for refills.
“The group in the back corner, they’re askin’ f’r ya.” She plopped down two full mugs of ale and slid them toward me. Her attention had already moved on the second she finished speaking, addressing the demanding patrons barking their orders for more booze.
Same old, same old.
I held firm to the handles and, as carefully as I could, maneuvered around staggering bodies until I reached the back corner. Barely a drop spilt.
“Two ales,” I shouted over the ruckus of belligerent men and nearly drowned out live music. I set down the mugs with every intention of returning to cleaning, but my gaze stuttered when I recognized the face before me. “Alejo?”
“Hello, Nora. Nice to see you,” he said with a friendly smile.
I rested my fist on my popped hip. “You’re not a regular here.”
He chuckled, reaching for the ale. “No, you’re right about that.” He took a sip, peering out over the rowdy crowd as he did.
I glanced at his company and recognized the man to his left, the one sporting a face of blues and purples. “You were in the town square today.”
He grinned, leaning over to Alejo and gently punching him in the shoulder. “You were right about her. She’s attentive.”
“Right about me? You were talking about me?” My eyes danced between the two men, hoping this wasn’t about to go somewhere unwanted and sour my relationship with the baker.
“Will you join us?” Alejo gestured at the spare chair.
“Oh, I’m on the clock.” My thumb pointed over my shoulder, referencing the unruly crowd I was solely in charge of picking up after.
“It’ll just take a moment,” Alejo insisted.
I could stand here and continue giving explanations as to why I couldn’t, or I could simply walk away. But something struck me as oddly curious between these two keeping company together, and what they could want with me. “Fine. One moment.”
I pulled out the chair and sat. If Helena caught me, I’d be mopping the floors by hand for a week, during busy hours. “Go,” I demanded.
The man from the stage display that afternoon leaned in closer so he wouldn’t need to shout as loud. “You’re aware of the injustices going on in this town?” He cut right to the chase.
“Yes. You’d have to be blind and deaf not to be.” I crossed my arms over my chest, bothered that I had to be reminded.
“What if we told you there was an opening. A chance to change things.” Alejo pinned me with his stare, a new life sparking to life behind his brown eyes.
An obnoxious scoff propelled from my lips. “No one can change things. Not really.”
“They can with the right people who have an in,” the stage performer said.
I attempted to size him up with my scrutinizing glare. “Who even are you?”
A cocky smirk tilted his lips. “The man with the in. But you can call me Gregory.”
I glanced back at Alejo who didn’t seem to question the statement. In fact, he nodded, backing up the sentiment.
Uncrossing my arms, I leaned over the table, clasping my hands together. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s this ‘in’ you have?”
The small group of us kept quiet, tucked away in the back corner of a busy tavern. It was then I learned how destiny could be forged in the shadows by everyday people who craved a change.