Chapter 2
The next day, the first day of the dying season, I lay in my bed, tossing our ball up toward the ceiling before once again clasping it in my hands.
A year in Ralheim was divided into four seasons, the warm season—arguably the best one—which was shouldered by both the breeding season and the dying season.
Between both of those was the one I dreaded most, the dead season.
During the dead season, there were no blooms, no color, and very little warmth. I struggled with it every year, especially on the days when I had to remain inside and out of sight on my own, like I had to now, the ache in my side reminding me of how much I despised my twin sometimes.
The hiding was the hardest part about sharing a life—I couldn’t be seen while Milo was outside of the house.
The last thing we wanted was to invite questions, which meant I had to stay out of sight for the entirety of the day, allowing Collum to run to the market or bakery as needed.
Which made me feel even more guilty because she was our only source of income.
Except for the small bit of coin she earned by selling my potions.
Collum was forced to work nights at the textile factory on the other side of town. It was hard work, stringing the spinning machines, but they paid handsomely for the night shift. It was enough for the three of us to live on, and paid our single tuition to the university.
It wasn’t enough to fix our deteriorating two-bedroom home, though. My parents had inherited it from their parents, and I assume my grandparents had inherited it from their parents. Though all previous generations of Poston’s had already passed on by the time our parents had birthed us.
Collum was the only one who could leave the house with ease. Milo and I spent our hiding days doing housework and staying out of sight. One glance at the clock told me that it was time to stop wallowing in the pain of my tattoo and get up and start dinner preparations.
Rising from the bed, I double-checked that my bind was still in place. Though we kept all the curtains closed, it was better to be safe than sorry.
In the kitchen, I pulled the vegetables from the basket Collum had harvested and chopped them for soup.
They had come from our garden, and though they weren’t quite as nice as those from the market, they were free.
Once chopped, I placed them in the large iron pot hanging over the fire before adding water and scouring the spice cupboard.
I loved cooking. I loved taking something, or multiple somethings, and transforming them into something new.
It was similar to potion making, and I much preferred it to cleaning, which was Milo’s preferred chore.
Whenever he had to cook, Collum and I held our breath hoping whatever would be on the table that evening would be edible.
We didn’t really have money to waste, though that didn’t stop his horrid cooking experiences.
Next to cooking, my next passion was gardening—specifically, growing herbs both for cooking and my experiments.
My parents had frowned when I had first begun to enjoy gardening as a child, something which they figured would lead to the teasing of Milo as a whole, but as my gifts continued to flourish, and I was soon making potions which could be sold and traded, they had swallowed their words and allowed me to pursue my passion, even if it meant the vegetable portion of our garden was smaller than it used to be.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
I froze.
No one ever came here.
We didn’t have any friends—none close enough to know where we lived anyway. And Collum was our only family left.
It was hard to have friends when you couldn’t let them grow close to you without explaining why you were different every other day.
Meaning whoever was at the door, was probably someone I didn’t want to see.
Probably the viscount’s men performing a house check.
Which was even worse.
Setting the knife down silently, I sank to the floor next to the counter, hoping whoever was standing on the other side of the small glass pane next to the front door couldn’t see my shadow through the threadbare curtains.
It was in vain, however.
“Open up. This is Viscount Adis. I know you’re home.”
Shit. Not today.
Thinking fast, I lowered my voice to the tone that I had trained to match Milo’s.
“One moment! I need to dress!” I cringed at how stupid it sounded, but there was no time to utter anything else as I crawled across the wooden floor to Collum’s room, which was once my parents’ room, across the worn rug my parents had bought during their travels, to shake her shoulder.
“Collum. Viscount Adis is here. He has already seen me.”
Collum’s bright blue eyes flashed open to meet mine, my own panic reflected back in her pupils. This was bad. Really bad. The Viscount didn’t come on house calls unless something serious was happening.
“I’ll kill Milo this time, I swear.” She groaned.
There wasn’t time to discuss it though, and she was out of bed and across the room in an instant, tossing a robe over the tattered nightgown she had been sleeping in before heading to the door.
I moved to sit on her bed, my head in my hands. There was no reason the Viscount should be here. We had already paid our taxes for the season.
Unless Milo was in trouble. Something that the ache in my side reminded me was entirely too possible.
The unmistakable sound of Collum swinging open the door reached my ears, and she spoke loudly for my benefit. “Viscount Adis, I was not expecting you.”
“I . . . see,” he replied, his voice deep, and I can only imagine him taking in my cousin’s nearly-sheer nightgown.
I knew how disarming she could be, especially to males.
She was beautiful with her blonde hair and starkly blue eyes, plus a figure most women dreamed of.
“I’m here because Milo Potson failed to report for the mandatory war service as required for all men passing their twenty-fifth birthday earlier this week. ”
The pressure behind my eyes mounted. I pressed my hands to my face, wishing I could sink into the floorboards and cease to exist. What had Milo done?
“I’m sorry sir, but we were unaware that there was a mandatory war service.” Collum’s voice was shaky, but she was being honest. We—well, at least I—hadn’t known. And I suspected she hadn’t either.
We’d known war was coming, but we’d hoped it wouldn’t come this soon.
“Ralheim is at war, Ms. Potson. I am surprised you did not know that seeing as we have been posting about it in the square for nearly a year now.” His tone indicated that any patience he had was wearing thin.
“Now, I heard a male voice, and seeing as it is only the two of you registered here, tell Milo he has fifteen minutes to pack one sack of whatever he can carry and join me out here. He will be taken to the barracks immediately.”
His words hit me full force. I couldn’t breathe; my bind was too tight.
War service. I had fifteen minutes to prepare to go to war.
Milo, what have you done?
“That was my . . . lover.” Collum tried to lie, but her tone and hesitancy weren’t fooling anyone. Especially not the dignified man at the door who had been the leader of Ralheim nearly my entire life. I was too young to remember his father, who was the viscount before him.
“I find that hard to believe Ms. Potson. But if it is indeed true, we will head to the university where he is enrolled next. We need to cancel his registration anyway.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. University was one of the few things in life Milo had, and if I went with Viscount Adis . . .
Before I even finished the thought, I shouted, “Collum, I just got home! I’m preparing now,” in my Milo voice.
I was so used to speaking in it, I often wondered what my real voice even sounded like.
I slinked around the corner into the bedroom I shared with my brother, quickly changing into tan, knee-length breeches and a white shirt which was loose enough to hide the fact I wore a band, and shoving everything I thought I would need into my bag.
I packed two outfits of ours, certain that I would also be issued a uniform.
I also grabbed my disguise supplies—the items I used on a daily basis to make myself Milo.
I additionally slid the small rectangular cloths I used for my menses in the bag, trying to think of how I could explain them if they were going to go through my bags when I arrived at the barracks.
I eyed my potion-making supplies, but shook my head as I realized they would be useless without the plants currently growing in our garden.
As I was packing, Collum came to lean against the door, her eyes filled with concern for me.
“Runa . . .” She breathed. She didn’t need to say anything more; I could practically feel her panic.
The sound of my name on her lips was like a vise around my heart.
But I couldn’t let myself get caught up in my emotions now.
There was no time. “If I go, he can stay enrolled,” was all I said, keeping my gaze on my rapidly moving hands.
“But . . . war . . . Runa, what if you die?”
My chin shot up, my teeth digging into my lip. She had a point, but . . .
“We always knew that was a possibility.” I sighed. “At least this way, he can have a full life. Maybe even marry Helene like he wants.”
Her silence was an answer in and of itself.
My heart was constricting, knowing I would never see her or Milo again, but I wasn’t surprised either. I had known for several years now that my parents had doomed us, and that we were living on borrowed seasons. It was only a matter of time before their carefully-constructed facade fell apart.
At least with this method of crumbling, Milo had a chance.
I just wish I had been able to bid him goodbye the night before. I bit my lip now, thinking of my last words to him, how angry I had been about the forced tattoo.
My ribs panged at the mention.