Mr. Fusco vanished impressively fast in the crowded hall. Tasia’s height allowed her to watch his progress around the dance. He tried his leaning trick on every woman with enough space nearby for him to squeeze his way in. Despite being rebuffed repeatedly, his confidence never wavered. Tasia was inclined to admire his persistence even though it stung a bit to be rejected by such an undiscerning man.
Determined not to wilt in the shadows like a wallflower, she pushed away from the plant and headed toward a small cluster of chatting people who were around her age. When she got close, one of the young men spotted her and said something that made the group disperse. Disappointed, but not too surprised, Tasiaset her sights on a slightly older trio of women. These ladies chose to flat-out snub by turning their backs to her instead of running away.
Everywhere Tasia tried, her efforts were met with the same refusal to engage. Frustrated with the heat and her continued failures, she found a spot by an open window and allowed the breeze to cool her hot cheeks. She let the conversations wash over her while she regrouped. As much as Tasia loved being around people and absorbing energy from a crowd, being shunned wasn’t providing the same boost. And, to be frank, she was getting bored. Hearing about who was walking out with whom was less interesting when the participants were unfamiliar. Nor did she care much about harvest yields or canning mishaps.
Thirty minutes in, Tasia had changed her tune and was ready to chat about the merits of different axe handles, if anyone would let her. An hour in, and she would have accepted a dance from the drunk quietly singing to himself half in the potted plant she had paused by earlier. The approachable expression she wore was becoming difficult to maintain.
A familiar giggle alerted her to a potential issue. Pagona appeared with a gaggle of young women. Three of them she recognized from the house. All of them were smiling too eagerly for Tasia’s comfort.
“Tasia! What are you doing way over here?” The mustard-clad ringleader wrapped one hand around her cousin’s upper arm. “You should be dancing!”
Wary of what the other girl had planned—but curious in her desperation—Tasia pasted on a polite smile and allowed herself to be dragged along. Maneuvering through the crowd took some time. Pagona’s friends whispered and giggled amongst themselves. Tasia overheard the name Mitch more than once.
She soon realized they were aiming for the corner opposite her wallflower station. A man with silver at his temples and finer party clothes than the average villager had set himself up on a large chair where he seemed to be holding court. The two capable-looking men that flanked him lent an air of importance and had prevented Tasia from trying her luck in that direction when she still had hope for the evening. One of the men looked very like all the other men in the room, if a bit rougher around the edges. The taller one had been tugging at his collar all night; Tasia had seen it from across the room.
“He’s so handsome,” one of the girls sighed. “For an outsider.”
“And that scar,” another one giggled.
The uncomfortable-looking guard turned his head toward the nearest window, and Tasia saw the scar in question. Three lines had been slashed along the edge of his jaw—unmistakably claw marks. Not as dark as the villagers, his tan skin and brown hair set off his blue eyes. Both his hair and beard were on the scruffy side of kempt, but Tasia understood why the others thought he was handsome.
Pagona flounced past the important-looking man in the chair and presented Tasia to the poor fellow stuck at his post. “Mitch, I would like to introduce you to my cousin, Tasia Stone.”
Mitch’s posture became rigid. He nodded once, without expression.
“Tasia, this is Mitch Arany. You should invite her to dance, Mitch,” Pagona declared.
His eyes flicked briefly over Tasia; then he looked away to stare out at the room. “No.”
Until her last, fragile hope had been thwarted, Tasia hadn’t realized how much she had been counting on this man’s outsider status to forge a connection. Even if he couldn’t leave his post, she would have happily stayed to chat. His brusque dismissalwas worse than the whispers and shunning from the others, somehow. Something in her crumbled as she smiled sweetly.
“No bother. I’m sure you’re busy.” She then turned on her heel and made her escape as nonchalantly as she could. The burst of laughter from the young women behind her made her want to run, but she kept her pace unhurried.
When Anthi complained of a heat headache twenty minutes later, Tasia happily escorted her home early.
Chapter Two
In Which Disappointments Continue
The sun was shining. The birds were singing. And Mitch wanted to punch something.
Last night had been worse than a waste of time. His soon-to-be-ex employer, Carlo Barone, had insisted that he and Arslan add to his consequence by standing at his side for the entirety of the dance. Mitch hadn’t felt that he could say no if he wanted a reference for the next job. As a mercenary of sorts, he relied on his reputation to find work. He’d already been in Boschivo for longer than he preferred to stay in one place.
Even sleeping in the woods out of sight, hearing, and scent range of the nearest house hadn’t been enough to restore his equilibrium. With a huge yawn, Mitch stretched, then lumbered over to a nearby stream. The early autumn day was cool but promised to be warm before long. He dunked his head in the stream to help wake himself. After the shock cleared the cobwebs from his mind, he pulled back and indulged in a full-body shake. It was only his imagination, obviously, but he couldstill feel the tight collar of his “nice” clothes and the press of too many people in a confined space.
Mindless small talk made him feel itchy at the best of times. Last night had the added torture of not being able to walk away. For reasons beyond Mitch’s comprehension, Boschivo’s young people found his scar intriguing. He had evaded, or blatantly ignored, multiple questions about how it came to be. That story was destined to join him in the grave, unspoken.
Worse still was the group that had decided to introduce a new girl to him. The young lady stood out like a phoenix among crows. Mitch could appreciate her striking appearance. What he didn’t appreciate was being forced to reject her. Even if he hadn’t been tasked with standing guard in the corner, he didn’t dance. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how; his mother had insisted he dance with her, before she passed. It was more that standing up with a stranger was insupportable.
She had taken it rather well, he thought. No tears or whining. The others hadn’t bothered to hide their mirth, but she simply took the rejection in stride and calmly moved away. Mitch was pretty sure she had smiled, too.
The scent of rabbit caught his nose as the wind shifted. He debated the merits of starting a fire to cook the meat or heading back into town to eat at his lodgings. The thought of interacting with humans, even in passing, sent a shiver of dread down his spine.
Fresh meat, then. If he was lucky, he could forage some items to supplement his breakfast.
Tasia was woken bright and early by a hungry Chara. Evidently, an afternoon and evening of vomit hadn’t dampened her appetite. Used to preparing snacks for her little brother, Tasiaescorted Chara to the kitchen before she could wake the rest of the family.
Since she was up, Tasia decided she may as well make breakfast for everyone. Her culinary education had been limited by her family’s adherence to their expectations of noble behavior. Baking was considered on the edge of ladylike, but savory cooking was right out. Due to the self-absorption of her mother and sisters, Tasia had often been left to her own devices. Some of that time she spent in the kitchens watching the chef and his helpers. The woman in charge of baking didn’t mind teaching Tasia the secrets of breads, cakes, and pies. And in spite of the others insisting that she stay away from the stove and the various pots and pans on their side of the room, Tasia still managed to pick up a bit here and there.
