Head down, a balding, middle-aged villager almost twice her size stumbled through Mrs. Erikson, causing the elderly woman to abandon her bags to the muck, saving herself from a similar fate. Unfortunately, the assortment of colorful market delights wasn’t as lucky, and they scattered across the muddy path.
Likely inebriated, the man sauntered off as he uttered steaming curses over his shoulder as if he were the wronged party. Mrs. Erikson scowled after him for a moment before turning to survey the damage.
Feeling bad for her, I made my way over and plucked the items from the sodden ground, wiping them carefully with a cloth from my pocket before returning them to their respective carriers.
Once done, Mrs. Erikson thanked me, and politely objected when I offered to walk her home, only relenting when I insisted.
Bags in tow, we endured the tentative exchange of strangers as we walked.
My jaw slackened when we reached our destination. Her so-calledhomerevealed itself as a stately manor.
As a thank you, she invited me in for tea, which I tried to decline, making it her turn to insist. Like her, I relented. Gaping, I followed her down the corridor toward a kitchen nestled in the back of her tastefully decorated residence, where we visited for hours.
That one occasion turned into another, and soon it became a regular occurrence.
I started doing chores during my visits, and after a time, Mrs. Erikson proposed a mutual arrangement. With her wealth of experience as a governess to the upper class, she offered to tutor me in exchange for helping with the estate—affording me a proper education. I took her up on the offer without hesitation and poured myself into the lessons.
Shaking away the memory, I studied the tall stranger for a moment, weighing my next words carefully. It was curious, his diction didn’t suggest he was uneducated, but very few families in our town had the means for an education, at least not anymore.
It was a gamble, but perhaps there was a bargain to be struck, similar to the arrangement I’d made with the governess. He was clearly adept in the wilderness, evident from his attire, the bow slung across his shoulder, the expertly set snare, and his swift handling of the knife he’d cut me down with. Additionally, he had a superior sense of direction to mine—though that wasn’t saying much.
By mastering his skills, I could become self-sufficient and break free from my parents’grasp.
With a plan in mind, I squared my shoulders. “I’m literate,” I said.
A glimmer of astonishment danced across his features.
Good, not so smug now.
“Here’s my deal. You get me back, unscathed,” I added, “and starting tomorrow, you teach me the way of weapons and the woods. In exchange, I’ll tutor you.”
He took my measure again, the scrutiny different from before. “Why do you want to learn about these things?” he asked.
“Why do you want to learn to read and write?” I said, noticing he hadn’t outright refused my proposal. I forged on, not letting him answer. “My reasons are my own. Deal or not?” I said, my hand now outstretched between the two of us.
He narrowed his eyes, as if unsure, but to my surprise, his firm grip slowly wrapped around mine. “Deal,” he said, and we shook on it.
Six years had passed since then, and our relationship had stopped being about that bargain long ago.
Chapter 3
Targets and Truths
Excitement rippled through me as Eithan and I entered the training ring.
My eyes darted about as I spotted a new series of targets—it appeared the dagger wasn’t the only gift he had in store for me.
I whipped my head in his direction.
He smiled at me with his big, goofy grin. “Surprise.”
It was utter perfection. For me, target practice was an elixir of life. When I threw, the world melted away and nothing else mattered. My focus would consume me wholly, and the cool tips of the blades between my fingertips always grounded me in a profound way. It was my respite. My joy.
We made our way to the basket of equipment resting against a tree. Eithan had likely brought everything here earlier from our hiding place in a nearby cave—which was undoubtedly why he was late. Normally, we’d select one, maybe two weapons, but having all of them here for us to play with… It was going to be a long and grueling day, and I couldn’t have been more excited.
Arms splayed to the smorgasbord of weapons, Eithan said, “Pickyour poison.” As I reached for my bandolier, he let out a low, teasing chuckle. “So predictable.”
“Don’t I at least get a reprieve from your mockery on my birthday?” I said, rolling my eyes.
