Chapter 3 #2
She scoffed. “You haven’t. But you make your friends do your dirty work. Always a coward.”
For a fraction of a second, something softened his eyes, regret maybe, but he quickly masked it with his usual nonchalance. “I am no coward.”
Gisela shook her head. “Well courage doesn’t need friends to back it up.”
He stepped closer, and she raised the knife, pressing it lightly to his chest.
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned into the blade, lowering his head to her level. His voice dropped, gravelly. “Whatever you think you know about me, Freckles, you don’t.”
He was close enough for his heat to reach her.
“Yes, I have freckles. Impressive observation,” she said, voice unwavering. “And I know plenty.”
They held each other’s stare, the silence between them heavy and suffocating. After a heartbeat too long, Thorne backed away, holding her gaze before turning to leave. He moved to the door, paused, and with a deliberate glance over his shoulder, whispered:
“Not yet.”
The door shut behind him. Gisela’s hand lingered in front of her before she let it drop. Her body trembled—not with anger, but with something unfamiliar.
The intensity of her encounter with Thorne faded as the hours slipped past. By the time Noah sauntered in, his face flushed and framed in tousled hair, the shop had settled into a quieter rhythm.
Gisela noticed his red, swollen lips and stifled a giggle with her hand.
“Shut up. Is Mother here yet?” he asked, urgency undercutting his usual teasing tone.
She let out the giggle. It was impossible to hold back. “No. She’s been at home with Vivi this afternoon. But you need to get yourself situated. You look like you just stepped out of Ruby’s bed.”
He hushed her, putting a finger to his lips. “We weren’t in her bed.”
Her eyes landed on a stick poking out of his hair.
Her lip curled. “You have no idea how much I don’t want to hear that about my little brother.
” She took off her apron, draping it over a chair.
“You can take over for the rest of the evening. I need to visit the tailor to pick up my new dress for Imbuing Day.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed. He ran his hands through his hair and found the stick.
Gisela shook her head at him.
With a playful flick, he tossed the stick toward her, and she caught it midair.
“Good idea with the frostbites, by the way,” Noah said, grinning.
Gisela smiled. “I know the way to a woman’s heart. Men think it’s jewels or fineries . . . but it’s always sweets.”
She turned to leave, but Noah stopped her. “You should know, while Ruby and I were in the forest, we noticed some of the plants we use in the shop are wilting.”
“Wilting?”
Anxiety prickled her skin.
“Yeah,” he said, furrowing his brow. “You don’t think it’s because the King took the Ice Stone, do you?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice uneasy. “But if it is, that’s not a good sign.”
The rich scent of wool, dyes, and faint beeswax met her at the tailor’s door.
Warm light spilled across the room, glinting off threads and catching the folds of colorful fabrics that hung from racks and hooks.
She approached the wooden counter, cluttered with scissors, needles, and spools of thread.
“Hello?” she called, glancing around.
She waited until their Village Elder emerged from the curtain behind the counter.
Hunched, he shuffled forward with a pronounced limp, each step labored and slow.
Elder Aldric’s clouded eyes stared ahead, his leathery face etched with deep wrinkles.
His frail body was draped in clothing that now hung loose on him.
“Gisela?” he called out, his weathered hands hovering over the counter, searching for hers.
“Yes. It’s me, Elder. Where’s Mrs. Fisher?” she asked, extending her hand to his.
His frail hand clamped onto her wrist in a death grip that made her gasp. His head jerked toward her, his clouded eyes turning to her with unnatural certainty.
“Elder Aldric? Please, let go,” she said, her voice shaky as she tried to free her wrist, but his fingers wouldn’t budge.
His words rolled out in a voice not entirely his own, strange and resonant. It echoed as if carried from somewhere beyond.
“I know what you are, Gisela Valor.” He paused, closing his eyes to gather strength.
“I’m sorry?” Her breath shortened as she spoke.
His eyes opened again, glowing faintly in the warm light.
“In times of dire, the balance shall break,
Six elements lost, a world at stake.
To mend the divide, the willing must find,
The six who unite, in heart and mind.
By trials endured and elements’ might,
The Great Guardian Tree shall rise in sight.
When darkness looms and hope is thin,
The power within shall new life begin.”
Every nerve in her body went taut.
He trembled, his eyes fluttering closed. The strange force that had seized him released its hold. The grip on her wrist loosened, and he shook his head, blinking in confusion, like he was waking from a deep sleep.
She pulled her wrist back, nursing it against her chest.
“Gisela,” he said, his voice now gentle and familiar, “Mrs. Fisher has your dress in the back room. Did you need anything else from us?”
She swallowed hard, trying to steady her racing heart.
“Uh . . . no. No. I think I’m good. Are you okay, Elder?” she asked with hesitancy, trying to compose herself.
“Never better, my dear.”