Chapter 2 #2
Ferria and I lobbied hard for the right to sell our wares in the market this year. With supply caravans coming less and less, we could both use funds to help purchase the rarer, more expensive items whenever they do come through town.
“Yes. Yes. Hold on for a second.” Ferria spins on her heel and strides to the cast-iron trunk tucked along the far side of the smithy, partially shielded by heavy crates and wooden casks stacked on top of each other.
She kneels, withdraws a key from her apron pocket, and unlocks the forbidding trunk. She takes out a thick burlap sack. The items inside clank together as she swings it over her shoulder.
She locks the trunk once more and stands to face me. “All right. I’m ready.”
“Um.” Anton clears his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting the—”
“Curses!” Ferria rushes over to the open flame in the mantel and grabs the glowing red tongs to pull out a small object. She drops both onto the nearby worktable in the blink of an eye.
Then she bundles the mysterious object into a cloth and shoves it into her apron pocket.
“Gods, Ferria!” Anton rushes over and reaches for her. “Your hands!”
“Are fine.” She holds up her palms in demonstration. They’re a little pink, but otherwise unharmed. “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’ve grown up around this smithy. I know what my touch can handle.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to refrain from calling out the lie. It’s not like I can tell Anton the truth anyway.
Anton drops his hands and releases a heavy breath. “Right. Yeah. Sorry…I forgot.”
“Hm.” Ferria turns and walks back to me. Over her shoulder, she calls out, “Melt down that metal again. This time, wait before adding saltdusk. I’m trusting you to get it right.”
“You can count on me.” He chuckles.
Ferria bends over to grab a clean rag to wipe her face. Anton’s gaze slides down my sister’s body.
When he meets my eyes, a sheepish grin tugs on his lips. I just smile and take the second satchel Ferria retrieved from the workbench before following her outside.
“You know, Anton is half in love with you,” I say, leaning back to prevent myself from toppling forward as we walk down the hill. “I think he falls more in love every time you chastise him.”
“Please.” She snorts. “He’s a child. He doesn’t know what love is.”
I laugh. “He’s twenty-three. Only one year younger than us. And he’s got a killer smile, and he’s impressively tall…and have you seen how muscular he’s become over the last year since he’s been—”
“Elara Stonebloom.” An instigating smirk curls my sister’s lips. “Are you admiring other men? What would Lev say?”
“Pft. He wouldn’t care. He’s Lev.”
Lev and I are close, but he’s not possessive or preoccupied with our untraditional relationship, if you can even call it that.
He has aspirations, as do I. We’re companions. Friends. Not life partners.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Ferria hops over a divot in the ground with grace that makes me jealous.
Something about her tone gives me pause. “What do you mean?”
The gleam in her eyes is a mix of amusement and warning. She reaches into her dress pocket, withdraws the object she rushed to pull from the fire, and unwraps the cloth.
My feet grind to a halt.
The thin, delicate circlet sitting in the palm of her hand captures my disbelieving stare. Tiny floral engravings adorn the shiny metal.
My heart thrums wildly. “What is that?”
“You know what it is.”
I whip my head from side to side, my loose updo coming undone from the movement. “No. Lev wouldn’t. Not without speaking to me first.”
“Relax.” Ferria closes her palm and tucks the bracelet back into her pocket. “It’s not a betrothal bracelet. At least not according to Lev.”
My gaze snaps back to hers, and I scowl. “Then why would you let me believe it was?”
And what the hells could it be otherwise? A gift?
Ridiculous.
Jewelry is a luxury in our impoverished town. Even as lovers, it wouldn’t make sense for him to gift me such an item.
“Because Lev could be lying to me,” she answers with a shrug. “And I know how you feel about marriage. I want you to be prepared if the conversation ever comes up.”
Ferria is a loyal sister, my best friend in the entire world. Lev had to know she would tell me he commissioned a bracelet from her.
Is that what he wanted?
It must be. He’s too smart to have not thought this through.
“Hey.” Ferria’s voice gentles. “It’s fine. Even if he brings it up, you can always say no.”
I wince. “Yeah, but it’s Lev.”
Our friendship is one of the very few I can count on—one of the only things that makes this colorless life bearable on the worst days. I don’t want things to change, but they undeniably will if Lev decides to give me that bracelet for its intended purpose.
He has to know that.
“Forget I said anything.” Ferria clears her throat.
She’s never been good at consoling someone when they’re upset. That’s my skill.
“What did you bring to sell? Your pack looks light.”
I don’t resist the subject change. “General pain tonics. Sleeping draughts. The usual.”
“Did Juniper give you anything to sell?” she asks, mentioning our adoptive mother.
I smirk and pitch my voice low despite the fact there’s no one around. “A new contraceptive tonic.”
Ferria smiles gleefully. “She did? That mischievous old woman. She likes to test the Elders, doesn’t she?”
“And let me bear the risk while she does,” I mumble.
Though I’m not really that put out by her actions.
Not only do I agree with Juniper’s efforts—women should not be forced to conceive children when they aren’t ready—but I owe Juniper so much for what she’s done for me and Ferria over the years.
She saved us from a life spent begging for scraps and sleeping in the overcrowded, rundown southern shacks with the rest of the Kinless.
I can't not help her.
“What’s the tonic?” Ferria lifts a brow. “Maybe I could try it out?”
I give my sister a knowing side glance. She’s a flirt, but she’s too exhausted refining astlerium and providing smithy services to the town to fall into bed with anyone these days. Unless she decides to give her apprentice a try.
“Have someone special in mind for the experiment?” I ask with an innocent stare.
“Several someones,” she says with a flip of her long braid. “It’s hard to pick just one.”
I chuckle and sidestep a fallen log. “The tonic is a salve, made from thistleweed root sap.”
“A salve?” She jumps on top of the log, then hops down. The metal items in her bag clang together. “How is that supposed to work?”
“The patient applies the medicine to her flesh and covers it with a bandage once a week for approximately one hour.”
“That’s it?”
I lift a shoulder. “According to Juniper, it’s been effective.”
“And just who has she been trying it on?” Ferria snorts. “Surely not herself.”
I laugh along with her. “I’ve been running low on thistleweed tonic for almost a year now, unable to supply new patients. Whenever someone asks me for help in that department, I send them to Juniper.”