Penny nodded firmly. “And I’m coming with you.”
Quiet stretched over several long, uncomfortable moments before he spoke again.
“We should get back. Mother will be upset if we’re late for dinner.”
On the walk back to the house, we took a direct route that led past a small pond and the burnt-out husk of an old barn. Penny gave what was left of the structure a wide berth and kept his eyes firmly on the path before us, flexing his fingers like they ached. All at once, his behavior in the forge and his family’s skepticism that he could handle training as a smith made sense. Between the burns on his hands and the ones that covered half of Sayla’s face, it was easy to infer how he’d developed his fear of fire.
But he said nothing, and I had no right to ask. Before long, we were back at the house, and probing questions were the last thing on my mind.
Penny led the way to the kitchen, where Sayla informed me that my job was to “sit at the table and look pretty” while she shoved an apron into her brother’s hands. He settled into a routine with his family, bustling about finishing preparations for the evening meal.
Watching the three of them together sparked a nagging sense of jealousy. There was an ease about them, and every affectionate touch or look was like a sharp knife dragging on a raw nerve. It was everything I’d ever wanted, the life that had been stolen from me when my mother died and my father threw us both into the abyss. I didn’t understand how Penny could want to abandon the safety of his quiet farm life and consider pledging himself to darkness for an end there was no guarantee he could achieve.
Once everyone settled around the table, Sayla fluffed her golden hair behind her shoulders and looked pointedly at Penny. “Have you noticed anything different about me, Pen?”
He gave her a quick onceover. “Oh,” he said, clearly feigning interest. “That’s a pretty necklace.”
She beamed and touched the pearl dangling from a silver chain around her neck. “Warren came early yesterday and brought it for me.” She turned her attention to me to explain. “Warren’s my suitor. His father is a silversmith, and he does the most beautiful work. That’s sort of like what you do, right?”
I shook my head. “Forging is more brute force than fine metalwork.”
Her eyes dipped down briefly, and she nodded. “That must be right. Warren certainly doesn’t have strong shoulders like yours.”
Amelina swatted her arm. “Sayla!”
Sayla smirked and speared a piece of her chicken, then used her laden fork to gesture as she spoke. “You know, before Warren, Penny and I used to compete for suitors. He’s never been interested in girls, and it troubled our poor father. He was forever going out of his way to introduce Penny to some nice milkmaid or the seamstress in town. But the moment he turned his back, Pen was chasing after one of the local boys. Wrestling with them…” Her verdant eyes flashed with delight. “Do you remember that time, Mother?” She grabbed Amelina’s arm as though physically pulling her into the conversation. “With Dawson Hilliard?”
Penny blanched, suddenly stricken. “Sayla, please…”
Sayla giggled, oblivious to the desperation in her brother’s voice. She was enjoying teasing him too much to see how frantic he looked.
“The two of them were having a good tussle”—sheleaned in with a grin—“rolling around in the dirt until Dawson got Penny on his back. My brother, in all his wisdom, thoughtthatwas the moment to steal a kiss. You’ve never seen a boy with cheeks so red. Dawson was mortified.”
“So was I,” Penny said, his eyes not straying from where he was grinding his potatoes into a paste on his plate.
His sister bumped him with her shoulder, her grin never wavering. “Aww, no, you were cute, Pen. Disappointed when Dawson punched you in the gut, but cute.”
Amelina sighed. “Sayla, be kind to your brother.” She glanced at Penny, then reached to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “Pen, I’ve been wondering. Why the need for an apprenticeship at all?” A hint of concern crossed her face as she seemed to remember me sitting quietly by. “Nothing against Mister Mosel and the skills he offers.” She smiled at me before returning her focus to her son. “But you have ample responsibilities here.”
Penny shifted in his seat. “It’s… a lot of work, Mother. Perhaps too much. An apprenticeship would give me a proper trade. I would have options outside the farm.”
Or an escape from it. That implication was clear, and I wondered again about his logic in all of this. He shouldn’t have been leaving, shouldn’t have been lying about an apprenticeship he clearly needed. Certainly shouldn’t have been risking his life to recover a dead man’s bones.
Amelina rested her fingers atop Penny’s, and her brown eyes crinkled with empathy. “I know it's more than you can manage alone,” she said. “Perhaps we could hire a hand.”
Penny dropped his fork and looked sharply aside. “With what money? The farm hasn’t been profitable in years. I can’t employ someone without pay.”
I stayed as still as stone, watching the exchange grow increasingly heated.
Sayla seemed to have removed herself from the conversation as well, pulling pieces off her slice of bread and nibbling them one at a time.
Amelina nodded before replying in an even tone. “We could provide room and board, meals. Arrangements could be made…”
I thought back to my tour of the tiny cottage. With two cramped bedrooms, a bathroom, and the small living area butted up against the kitchen in which we now sat, I was baffled at how a family of once five had inhabited such crowded quarters. Unless there was another residence on the property, or one of the siblings was willing to give up their bed to sleep in the hay barn, they couldn’t possibly house anyone else.
Penny chewed his lip while staring at the mess he’d made of his dinner until his mother caught his cheek and turned his head to face her.
“Penwell, your father believed in you,” she said. “He must have, or he wouldn’t have left us in your care.”
