Chapter 17: Everly

Chapter

Seventeen

EVERLY

My hem trails through at least four inches of snow as I walk next to Morwen, Brennah, Ava, and Feyona the next morning.

Morwen had roused us all at first light, insisting that we head to the city to gather more dried herbs, oils, and food.

Three Bloodstone warriors follow a few paces behind us, their heavy boots crunching in the fresh snow. One of them is the guard I was so incredibly rude to when I first arrived at the camp. I glance back at him, taking in his stoic expression and distant stare focused straight ahead.

Guilt coils in my stomach as I think about our first encounter. He was only doing his duty, yet I lashed out, letting my frustrations overflow onto him.

I take a deep, steadying breath, then slow my pace until I fall into step beside the guard. He briefly meets my eyes, before returning his attention to scanning our snowy surroundings for any sign of danger .

I clear my throat. "I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you when we first met. It was thoughtless and rude of me, and you didn't deserve such callous treatment. I'm truly sorry for insulting you."

The guard gives me a short, curt nod. "Apology accepted."

I offer him a smile before quickening my stride to catch up with Morwen and the others, my steps lighter than before.

I walk next to Ava for a while before finding something to talk about. "How long have you been with the Bloodstone army?"

A gentle breeze teases the loose strands around her face as she looks over at me. "It's been about six months."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"It has its moments."

"What did you do before joining them?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Sadness glimmers in Ava's eyes as she speaks. "I was a midwife in a Bloodstone village, but after it was repeatedly raided, I no longer felt safe living there."

My chest squeezes at the thought of Ava being forced to leave her home. "That must have been difficult."

"It was," she says softly. "But we make our homes where we can, don't we?"

"We do." We pass a towering tree, its gnarled limbs stretching wide enough to shelter at least ten people, before I ask her another question. "What's your favorite part about being with the army?"

The lines near Ava's eyes deepen as she smiles. "The camaraderie. These people become your family. "

Will that happen to me? Finding family here so far away from Astarobane?

"Careful there," I warn Brennah as she nearly slips in a treacherous patch of mud. "I don't think your future husband would want you to drown in a mud pit."

Brennah rights herself and grins, her freckled nose crinkling. "My future husband? How do you know I'm not already married?"

I shrug. "I don't."

Her grin widens, showing off the small gap between her front teeth. "I'm jesting with you, Everly. I'm not married, but I hope to be soon."

Feyona shakes her head as she rests one hand protectively against her rounded belly. "You are dreaming, Bree."

A frown appears between Brennah's brow as she tosses her long braid over one shoulder. "What's wrong with dreaming?"

"Nothing," Feyona says. "Just make sure you choose a man who actually smiles back at you, not one who scowls."

"But I want Cenric," Brennah says, her frown deepening.

Cenric? She wants my Cenric?

"Cenric?" I choke out, my voice unnaturally high.

Brennah nods enthusiastically. "The very same. Isn't he perfect?"

Very.

"He's...something," I manage.

The younger woman playfully nudges my arm. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed his blue eyes, or that chiseled jaw, or the way his muscles ripple when he spars."

Of course I've noticed .

"I suppose he's not bad to look at," I concede, aiming for nonchalance and no doubt failing.

Feyona scoffs. "Not bad to look at? Are you blind?"

No, just hopelessly in love.

"Maybe Everly prefers a different type," Ava chimes in.

"What other type is there?" Brennah asks.

Instead of responding, I bite my tongue.

A smile tugs at the corners of Brennah's mouth. "Maybe she likes them short and round."

As Feyona passes by a tree, she grabs a tiny pinecone and rolls it between her fingers. "Or maybe she likes them bald and toothless."

It takes everything in me not to snort and tell them exactly how I like them.

"Ladies," Morwen interjects. "Let's not torment the poor girl. We all have our preferences."

"But Cenric is everyone's preference," Brennah insists.

I roll my eyes. "I'm sure there are other fish in the sea, Brennah." Liar! There is no other fish. There's only Cenric.

She wrinkles her nose, like I told her she needs to marry a flounder. "I don't want a fish. I want Cenric."

As we approach Karra, the conversation mercifully shifts to the day's shopping list.

The portcullis creaks open, revealing the city stirring to life in the early morning light. The cobblestone streets glisten with melting frost, creating treacherous patches that threaten to send us sprawling. Shops are beginning to open, their owners sweeping doorsteps and arranging wares .

As we move deeper into the city, Morwen leads us to a shop nestled between a blacksmith and a cobbler. The sign above the door reads Karra Apothecary in faded gold letters.

We step inside, and the scent of dried herbs and spices tickles my nose. Bundles of plants hang from the rafters. Shelves line the walls, filled with jars of powders and tinctures.

Morwen plucks items from the shelves, muttering under her breath as she examines each one. I hover nearby and try to look helpful while secretly wondering if any of these herbs could cure my hopeless infatuation with a certain brooding warrior.

I pick up a jar labeled feverfew and sniff it. It smells like a mix of daisies and the bitter tonic Grandmother forces down my throat when I'm ill.

Brennah moves to stand next to me. "Isn't this place amazing? I bet they have something that could make Cenric fall in love with me."

I nearly drop the jar. "I don't think that's how it works, Brennah."

She pouts. "Why not? If magic can heal wounds and summon fire, surely it can make someone fall in love."

If only it were that easy.

I sigh and tuck stray strands of hair behind my ear. "We don't have magic."

She sighs. "Sadly."

Morwen shakes a gnarled finger at us. "We will have it again."

I want to believe her words, but it's hard to imagine magic returning to our people, especially when we've been without it for so long.

The other five barbarian tribes of Tarrobane have magic. The Kyanites wield the magic of light, granting them the aptitude for healing. The Hematites command the element of fire. The Carnelians have power over water. Malachites can move the earth. And the Calcites rule the very air we breathe.

My tribe used to have magic too—dark magic that made us strong and formidable. But the gods cursed us long ago, stripping away our power. Now, we have nothing left but anger and aggression. At least, that's how the other tribes see us—as bitter and violent.

Sometimes, I imagine that things are different and the Bloodstone never ruled the other tribes with an iron fist, never did anything to anger the gods.

In those dreams, our magic was never taken away.

The truth is that we brought misfortune on ourselves, and now we have to live with the consequences.

"I need it right now," Brennah pouts.

"Even if you had it," Morwen says as we follow her from the apothecary to a vegetable stall, "you wouldn't be able to make anyone fall in love with you."

While Ava and Feyona fill baskets with potatoes, carrots, and other root vegetables, I move to the next stall, where Brennah examines a display of brightly colored fruit.

"Do you think Cenric likes apples or pears better?" she asks, holding up one of each.

"I don't know. I've never seen him eat either." Though, I have spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at his mouth.

Brennah frowns and puts the fruit back.

Morwen turns to address us. "Brennah, Everly, gather fruit. We need apples, figs, and pears."