Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The man watched me as I considered his words.

Why would reaching Turre mean my death? I knew very little about the place, only that it had fallen to magic. Were all casters truly bad then? I thought back to the letters I'd found in the attic—correspondence between mother and a caster called Elspeth. Concern for each other had been prominent in all of them. My mother had been a good woman who would never align herself with someone of evil intent.

So then, was his warning based on the people of Turre or the men within this clearing?

I studied his gaze and saw only sincerity. But was it a mask or the truth? Instinct said it was the truth. He and the others meant me no harm.

I hadn't listened to my instincts before and wouldn't make that mistake again. This time, it whispered I was safer where I was.

Nodding, I continued on my way, veering to the right and choosing to walk the border of the trees without speaking to the others. Their gazes tracked me as I paced the perimeter.

Intuition told me I'd stumbled upon more than a clearing. Protected by the Dark Forest on three sides and backed by a rocky outcropping barren of trees and too sheer to climb, few would ever know this glade existed. It was an oasis in an otherwise dangerous world. The breadth of the expanse allowed for a spacious—if trodden—yard in front of the modest cottage and a larger yard in back with a garden.

In the sheer rock face beyond the garden, I saw an opening to a cave. I didn't move closer to inspect it, preferring to follow the trees and let my mind wander once I knew where I was going.

What this place was didn't matter to me. Only how to leave it.

I pondered the choices that were left to me. My father was cursed. I was stuck in this glade for an undetermined amount of time. And Eloise was suffering at home, in my place, until I could resolve Father's current state and return for her.

After several laps, I settled on the best course of action and stopped walking.

The men were no longer in a group by the long table. They were scattered about the glade. One man lounged inside a strip of cloth strung between the posts. While the unique contraption intrigued me, I didn't move closer to inspect it. A pair of them were cutting wood on the side of the cottage. Two more lingered near the cave opening.

"Where's Edmund?" I called.

The one in the odd bed lifted his head to look at me in surprise.

"Edmund? Why do you want him?"

I didn't answer. The man in question came stomping around the side of the cottage, his gaze full of pent up rage. He reminded me a bit of Eloise after someone bullied me. Which is why I wanted to speak to him. Anger loosened tongues.

"I don't want to be here, and you don't want me here," I said before he could speak. His steps slowed, and wariness began to outweigh the anger. That wouldn't do.

"Don't act offended or try to deny the truth. It doesn't suit you."

The anger returned in a flash.

Just like Eloise , I thought.

"The other one told me he would stop me from leaving. He believes I will meet my end either in the woods or in Turre."

"You think I'll go against my brother? You're more foolish than you look," Edmund said.

Brother? Of course. Rather than looking at the others, I pressed forward.

"Against? Never. None of you want me here. He doesn't want me to leave because he thinks I won't survive. But can any of you survive outside of this glade?"

He scoffed. "Do you see sheep around here for us to spin our own cloth? A smithy to make our shovels or?—"

A clump of hard dirt hit him in the jaw by the ear.

Edmund's face flushed with his rage as blood bloomed in the remnants of dirt on his face.

"Who did it?" he bellowed.

"Shut your flapping maw, you?—"

Edmund roared and head-butted Daemon in his middle, taking him down to the ground.

Annoyed, I marched to the cottage, grabbed up the pitcher of water, and returned to douse the fighting pair with the contents. Edmund sputtered and swung his enraged gaze to me.

"Such behavior is beneath you," I said. "You're an intelligent man able to express himself with words. Use them, or I will fetch more water."

Someone sniggered behind me.

Edmund's face flushed further. I held out the pitcher to whoever stood behind me.

"More please," I said without taking my gaze from Edmund.

He snarled and stood abruptly, leaving Daemon on the ground.

"Your anger robs you of wit, and you revealed things your brother thought you shouldn't."

Edmund's anger immediately vanished. He looked pale and sick with understanding.

"I don't care where you get your cloth and metal from. I only care that you can survive outside this glade. I asked you because I knew I could goad you into an honest answer. If you can survive, so can I. Teach me so I can leave."

I said the last while looking at each of them. They were all there again, watching me.

When no one said anything, I looked at Daemon.

"Your eye is starting to swell. Fetch some water from the well, and place a cool wet cloth on it, or you won't be able to see for a few days. I can't imagine such a disadvantage would be safe here."

I turned to go to the cottage and saw the second Daemon. He was smirking at his twin.

Missing Eloise, I went inside and sat in a more comfortable chair to wait.

My fate, whatever it may be, was now in the hands of seven strangers. They would either teach me to be rid of me or be inconvenienced by my presence forever.

And I would do whatever was necessary to ensure they understood the gravity of the latter.

Patience was a virtue that had passed over my twin but graced me. As the light faded from the sky and the men continued to argue quietly outside, I sat in the chair and stared vacantly at the unlit hearth.

I didn't know why the choice to help me or not should require an hours-long debate, but it did. They spoke endlessly, their voices rising and falling with whatever points they were making with one another.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it. Due to the circumstances at home, I'd been unable to take any provisions with me. My sling bag contained another simple dress to change into, along with clean underclothes, some coin, and a letter I'd taken from the attic. Rather than using the coin to purchase a few biscuits at the market, I'd saved them, knowing any help I needed would likely require coin. Only if I managed to reach Turre, though.

The light continued to fade. Outside, I heard the sounds of another escalating scuffle. If they didn't decide soon, they would likely all wake with black eyes, and then no one would be left to help me.

Rising, I went to the door and watched them.

The smiling Daemon noticed me first and elbowed an almost - replica of himself from the brown hair to the brown eyes. The almost-replica was several years younger, though, likely close to my age.

"Excuse the intrusion on your sensible deliberation of my future, but could I trouble you for a respite? I haven't eaten since dinner yesterday."

The youngest lightly kicked the side of one of the pair presently rolling around in the dirt.

"She's hungry."

The fighting stilled.

A blonde with green eyes got off of Edmund and retreated a few steps. He looked very similar to Edmund. Slightly shorter and different colored eyes, but the same chin and nose and hair.

Edmund jumped to his feet. "I don't care one whit if you're hungry or not, you evil spawn of a whore."

I was across the clearing before I recognized my intent and drove my fist right into his wretched mouth. He didn't move much, but his already abused mouth bled anew.

"Be glad I am the weaker sister," I said. "You can call me any manner of name you wish, but do not disparage my mother. She was a good, kind woman. In return for honoring my mother with your silence, I will do the same to your mother. Do we understand one another?"

He slowly inclined his head, watching me guardedly.

"Now, as it's unlikely that you'll resolve your differing opinions with fists, why not set aside your grievances before nightfall and tell me how I can assist in preparing dinner?"

"Have a seat at the table. We will be delighted to serve you," Daemon said with a wink.

"I'll join you," the other Daemon said.

I looked at the one who'd winked. "You're not Daemon. What should I call you?"

His grin widened.

"Darian."

"Hello, Darian," I said, making no mention of the lack of surname.

I looked at the quiet one who'd initially watched me from the door. His light brown hair was a combination of his brothers' brown and blonde.

During the course of my listening, I'd heard a few names mentioned.

"Garron, correct?" I guessed.

He gave a short nod, his bright green eyes meeting mine only briefly before he flushed and looked away.

"And I'm unlikely to forget dear Edmund." I glanced from the scowling brawler to the man who'd been fighting him. They had the same build and looked the same age.

"Identical in almost every way but the eyes. His twin, I presume?" I said.

"Eadric," the man said, holding out his hand. I glanced at it, feeling a measure of surprise.

"Men don't shake women's hands, idiot," Edmund said with a shove.

I captured Eadric's hand and shook it, liking the feeling of his strong fingers around mine. It reminded me of my father. Honest and forthright, treating everyone as an equal. Even women, but more especially my mother.

"It's a rule I never cared for," I said with a small reassuring smile when his glad expression started to fall. "It made me feel even more of an outcast."

"Outcast?" the oldest asked. "Why were you an outcast?"

I glanced at him, again noting the laugh lines. "Because I didn't behave like other maidens. I didn't fawn over the attention the boys my age gave me. I wasn't grateful for their unwanted adoration."

Edmund snorted. "Conceit is a deadly sin."

"I agree, which is why I did not partake in their illusions of me. Who I am should not be a sum of my appearance, and I have no interest in associating with people who would see me as such."

"Then who are you?"

"I am who I am. Who are you, sir, with the brown hair and laugh creases around the eyes?"

They crinkled a little. "You can call me Brandle."

I looked at the last one.

"Liam," he said.

"I am pleased to meet you."

"Are you?" Edmund said, crossing his arms.

"I am. Meeting you is better than meeting my death." I waited a beat. "But only barely."

Darian and Eadric laughed until tears streamed, and I felt the tug of my own humor. It made me miss Eloise more.

"Sit," Brandle said. "I'll fetch the stew from the cold store. Darian, get the dishes."

While he and Darian walked toward the house, Eadric gestured for me to follow him to the table, which they'd moved closer to the fire near the strung beds.

"Do you sleep in those?" I asked.

"We do," Eadric said, leading me toward one. "They're quite comfortable."

"How do you not fall out?"

He grinned. "It takes practice. Sometimes we still take a tumble."

He demonstrated how he got in and out of it. In seemed more simple than out. At least gracefully. When he set it swinging idly, I understood why he might fall out.

A sound behind me had me glancing over my shoulder to see Brandle set a large pot on the table.

"We cooked the stew this morning," he said.

I readily accepted the helping he ladled for me. Large chunks of meat and root vegetables swam in the watery stew that smelled like smoke. I took my first bite and thanked the years of practice I'd had at keeping a straight face.

"Tastes like shite, doesn't it?" Eadric asked, watching me with a grin.

Garron smacked the back of his head. "Watch your mouth."

"She said we could cuss."

"That's not what she said. She said not to disparage her mother."

"It tastes a bit burnt," I said. "But it's filling, and that's all that matters right now. Thank you for sharing it with me."

My words stopped the brewing fight and set Edmund to scowling again.

"Does it stay like that while you sleep?" I asked him. "Your face," I clarified when he looked confused.

Eadric laughed again. "I like her."

So long as Edmund continued to find issue with my presence, Eadric's fondness for my provocation of his brother likely wouldn't hinder my goal. However, I would need to take care that Eadric didn't grow too fond.

I ate quickly and followed Garron to the well, where he and Liam washed the bowls and pot.

"Who cooked the meal?" I asked.

"Us," Liam said. "Tomorrow it's Eadric and Edmund. Don't expect it to be any better."

"I understand. Allow me to take these back to the cottage."

I carried the clean dishes inside, stowed them in the cabinet behind the ladder, and set the pot on the table.

"You'll find what you need in the loft," Brandle said from the doorway. "If you need anything else, we'll be right outside."

With that, he shut the door, leaving me alone for the first time.

I found a larger bowl to hold water from a pitcher so I could wash. Once my face and feet were clean, I took my sling and spare clothes and climbed the ladder.

Seven neatly made beds waited in the cramped loft. They were narrow, barely wide enough to fit me, but would be more comfortable than sleeping on the plank floor. I set my bundle of things on the bed nearest the ladder and went to the second bed. The blanket covering it was rough and worn. I layered another blanket from the neighboring bed over it and stripped out of my gown.

The first howl filled the night, followed by several more. Outside, I heard the indistinct murmur of the brothers' voices. Edmund's was easy enough to distinguish because of the angry tone. The others were more difficult.

I hoped I wouldn't stay long enough to discern them all.

Eloise was the early riser, not me. Yet, I found myself opening my eyes before dawn. I blamed falling asleep so early and the nap the day before.

Warm under the blanket, I stretched languidly then rose. If I wished to eat something that tasted like food today, I knew I couldn't linger.

After dressing in the prior day's soiled gown, I descended the ladder and went to search for the entrance to the cold storage. They'd come inside for the pot, so I knew it had to be there somewhere. The locked door to the left of the ladder seemed the most likely option until I noted the worn groove in the floor in front of the storage cabinet tucked behind the ladder. The cabinet moved rather easily, and a narrow set of stairs descended into darkness.

I found a candle by feel and struck the flint to light it. The weak glow barely cast its light over the sacks of supplies. Grain. Potatoes. Carrots. Dried berries.

Edmund would not be pleased that I'd found their food supply.

Fighting a smile, I moved what I needed, including the hand mill for the grain, up to the kitchen. The glimmer of humor I felt remained even when my arm began to ache after only a few minutes of turning the wheel. I knew I wouldn't be working alone for long. The wheel crushing the grains was too loud not to disturb at least one of them.

A knock sounded at the door several minutes later.

"It's not my home to give permission," I said. "Enter as you please."

The door opened, and from outside, Brandle's gaze swept over everything I'd set out in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Milling flour. It's harder than it looks." I stopped turning the wheel and stepped back. "If you wouldn't mind taking a turn, we might manage something passable enough to make some biscuits for dinner."

"Biscuits?" He looked from the mill to the other ingredients out on the table to the unlit hearth.

"Biscuits and stew for dinner and boiled oats to break our fast. I'll light the fire and fetch water for those if you're willing to take over the milling."

"I'll get the water," Eadric called from outside.

"It's easier if we cook outside," Brandle said. "There's more workspace for all of us to help."

I hadn't expected a ready offer to help but willingly accepted it. The more of them I could inconvenience, the better. I picked up the bowl of dried berries.

"We'll move it," Brandle said. "It will be more prudent for you to ensure Eadric doesn't add too much water to the pot."

Unsure if I was being kicked out or encouraged to continue, I donned the cloak and left the cottage to find Eadric at the well, where he had two pails of water drawn.

"That is plenty," I said, stopping him from filling a third.

"Are you certain? I heard you say stew and boiled oats."

"Yes, but we can only cook one at a time."

"Ah," he said, shooting me a wry grin. "I should have thought of that."

He had dirt on his cheek and his forehead.

"Were you fighting again?" I asked.

His grin widened. "Edmund heard you. Better he fights with me than antagonize you. A scuffle so he doesn't need to cook is worth it. His cooking tastes like shite too."

"You both remind me of my sister," I said. "Take off your neckcloth."

He clasped his hands to his chest in a true display of shock and prevention.

I shook my head at the hilarity of the situation.

"I vow to leave your manly virtue intact. I only meant to help remove the dirt from your face."

"My neckcloth stays on," he said in all seriousness.

Rather than arguing, I reached into my bodice for the handkerchief I always carried. Stiff from the previous day's perspiration, I doubted it smelled pleasant. So I used one of the buckets of water to rinse it then dabbed Eadric's face as he continued to clutch his neckcloth.

"My sister would find you amusing," I said. "It's typically the maidens that clasp their chest like that."

His green gaze swept over my face as he frowned slightly.

"I can't let you?—"

"Eadric, shut your fool mouth," Edmund said a second before he grabbed my shoulder and spun me about.

I wasn't one to grab. The heel of my hand connected with his nose in an upward thrust. I'd meant it for his chin but miscalculated for the height difference. He grunted in pain and thrust me into Eadric, who closed his arms around me as we tipped backward.

My eyes went wide as I realized what was happening. We were going to fall into the well.

My hands whipped out again and gripped the rope. The friction burned my palms, but I didn't ease my hold, squeezing tighter still until I stopped us with the backs of my knees hugging the edge of the well.

Holding his bloody nose, Edmund glared at me. Behind him, Garron came running to help but stopped short and gawked.

"Eadric's holding your…"

"My chest. I know. I can feel it. Perhaps you would be so kind as to help us both so he can release me without falling into your only clean water source."

Garron took a hesitant step forward.

Daemon sprinted around him and grabbed my arms, hauling me and Eadric from the edge of disaster.

"Are you all right?" he asked, prying Eadric's hands off my person.

Ignoring him, I looked at Edmund. "I am amending my previous warning. In addition to neither of us speaking ill of the other's mother, we avoid touching one another. Agreed?"

"He agrees," Brandle said. "We all do."

I stepped around Edmund and strode away, calling over my shoulder, "Dunk his head in a bucket. It'll help with the bruises and stop the bleeding. Might even help with his breathing."

"He's breathing fine," Brandle said.

"I know."

Darian's laugh rang out behind me.