“This masterpiece? Do you know how hard it is to sew with one hand? Blood, sweat and a hell of a lot of swearing went into making this the work of art it is today.”
Aelia rolled her eyes and pulled her plate back towards her, spearing into the tart again. “This is good. Can’t say I’m gutted we can’t give it away.”
“Fortunately, I have enough left to make a spare. Give me a hand?”
“I can give you two.”
“Show off.”
She laughed and pushed the plate away, clearing space on the surface. Otis grabbed what they needed and they got to work, each of them handing what the other needed wordlessly. Years of cooking together had made them quite the team.
“Have the travellers had much to say about Demuto?" she asked, after a few moments' silence of rolling out the leftover pastry.
Otis paused his chopping and rubbed his forehead wearily with the back of his hand, a worried frown replacing his usually thoughtful expression.
"It's getting worse. Although admittedly they say that every year,” he said with a low sigh, grabbing a cloth to wipe himself clean. “But it sounds like they have had a particularly hard time recently with the Astraea attacks.”
“Why were the Astraea attacking the Peregrinians?” Aelia’s hands froze, the rolling pin stilling in her hands at the mention of the Astraea. They were cold-hearted and merciless; a band of artemians who were convinced that humans should be wiped from existence. Sure, a lot of artemians viewed the humans as the weaker species, but the Astraea took their contempt to a whole new level. One that often involved bloodshed.
“It’s not just humans they’re targeting anymore, it’s anyone who supports them. Apparently, some of the vendors were beaten black and blue just for selling to them.”
Aelia felt the world shift under her feet, her mind whirling to a whole new perspective.
“One of the vendors refused to serve Mirra last night.” She stared wide-eyed at Otis, the ramifications of what he’d said still hitting home. The armourer’s actions may not have been solely out of prejudice, but out of fear. And if she had been scared into behaving that way, how many others would be too?
Otis’ eyes snapped to Aelia’s face. “I didn’t see anything like that?”
“I only saw it at her stall.”
“Well, that’s something at least. It’s surprising more haven’t been frightened into similar behaviour, especially after they got hit so badly near Drias. We should be more worried that if they’re acting that way, it probably won’t be long until the same mentality creeps into the village."
“There were Astraea in Drias?” Aelia's heart dropped all the way to the forest floor. “That's only a day’s walk from here!"
“I know, they’ve gained support more quickly than I would have ever thought possible.”
“I thought they were just a small band of outcasts?” Aelia’s hand went clammy around the rolling pin. She set it down, the meal forgotten as the threat of change hovered over them.
“Not anymore.” Otis shook his head. “They may have started as a bunch of troublemakers, but with Demuto struggling the way it is I’m not surprised people are looking for someone to blame, and the Astraea are pointing the finger firmly at the humans. Every year the Peregrinians bring rumours of them becoming more aggressively active, but this year is particularly disturbing.”
Aelia blinked as she processed all that he was saying. “I can’t believe they were so close.” She shuddered at the thought.
“I know. Try not to worry though, Aelia. Even if they did come all the way out here, which is unlikely, they can see the magic in your eyes as clear as any artemians.”
The jet-black circle in his own eyes was a stark contrast against the blue of his irises, almost as obvious as her green ones, but his words did nothing to ease the fear coiling inside her. They might be safe, but what of all the humans? What of Mirra?
As if his thoughts had jumped in the same direction as her own, he asked, “Was Mirra upset about the vendor?”
“Yeah, of course, but she hides it well. Doesn’t like any fuss.”
It had always been the way with Mirra, ever since they were young, she just wanted to pretend that incidents like that never happened. On the whole, the two of them had been left alone. Aelia had always been freakishly strong, even for an artemian, and she’d made the other children eat their words, alongside a fair amount of dirt, if they tried to pick on them. But there had come an age when smushing someone’s face into a mud pie wasn’t an appropriate way to deal with their attitude problems, and Aelia had long since passed it.
“After what they were saying last night, I suppose we’re lucky it wasn’t worse.” Otis scraped his strips of vegetables into a bowl and started adding pinches of seasoning, the smell of thyme and lemon adding a zing to the fresh scent of the red onions and purple aubergine. Aelia snapped back into the present and started trying to wrestle the sheet of pastry into the tin.
“Why, what else were they saying?”
“That the trouble in the North is leaking into Demuto. It sounds like we might finally be dragged into their war. Gods knows how the King has kept us out of it for as long as he has.”
Aelia immediately regretted asking.
