“I amSolerian,I was bornSolerian.My parents, who loved me very dearly, died of The Fever,” she choked on a sob. “My mother is dead.”
Merle felt her own eyes fill with unshed tears as she wrapped the girl up in her arms and sat closer to the warmth of the fire with her.
They sat together in silence, long into the dark night, the smoke of a burning city filling their noses.
Chapter One
Present Day
The air was so thick with smoke I could hardly see in the dimly lit tavern. It swirled and arced in a tantalizing dance, nearly in time with the crystalline notes that sung through the din of the chaos.
Taking a hearty gulp of the firemead clutched in my hand, the soft music of the lute and its owner's voice washed over me. The drink burned deliciously down my throat, heavy warmth settling in my gut the more I drank.
Who thought such sad music was fit for a tavern? The performer's tone was low, voice rasping as she sang of love, loss, andlife. My eyes drifted closed, as the melody sang to the darkest parts of me. A caress that emboldened that blooming ink stain upon my very soul.
Goddess, I loathed sad music.
My hand shook as I brought the tankard to my lips once more.
“Might want to slow down a bit, aye Sy? Three drinks I’ve counted so far and we’ve only been here an hour. Wouldn’t want a reoccurrence of last time, would we?”
His voice pulled me from the darkness that had clouded my mind, a shiver running down my spine as I shook my head to clear it of any remnants that clung like cobwebs.
“Those pricks started it and you know it, Bran.” Eyes bearing a pointed look, I took another deep pull of my drink.
He’d refused to accompany me to a tavern for nearly twomonths, simply because of anaccident.It hadn’t been my fault that a Solerian army recruit had gotten mouthy, and it certainly hadn’t been my fault when my fist had connected with his smart mouth a second later, inciting a brawl. It was simply karma, the fate of the Goddesses for that man to be hit.
Bran scoffed, yet a smile played upon his lips as he raised a brow. “How are you doing anyway?”
I hated that look.
Hated the concern when his eyes trailed over me. Searching and waiting. Searching for what? I hadn’t a clue. Injuries? Sadness? I suppose only Bran and the Goddesses knew what truly went through his mind at times like this.
“I’ve been fine, aside from you avoiding me after that fight.” Another pointed look had a sheepish smile transforming his features. “Must you always become so worried when we drink? Have I ever told you that firemead makes you a sap?”
Finally a smile curved my lips at the booming laugh he let out, the expression just soBranthat I couldn’t help it. I ignored the startled glances that swung towards our table with the sudden noise as I leaned forward, resting my chin upon the rim of my tankard. Bran hadn’t ever been able to doanythingquietly. Much like his mother, he was entirely too loud and entirely too unapologetic in everything he did. It was what I loved most about them both, if I thought hard about it: how free theywere to truly be themselves. They didn’t care about the attention that would settle upon them; I didn’t even think it was a thought that crossed their minds.
His light brown eyes, so similar to the chewy caramels we would gorge ourselves upon as children, met my own slate-grey gaze. Tapping my nose gently, he said, “Really though, what’s been going on with you?”
I groaned, nose wrinkling as the alcohol warmed my blood and buzzed through my veins. If I refused to answer his questions, he wouldn’t simply let it rest. He would pester and persist, something I learned rather quickly living with him and Merle for the last fourteen years.
That first morning in their home I could still remember how he stood in his doorway, curious eyes taking me in as I pushed spiced oats around my bowl. Not a single bite entered my mouth. At the time, I didn’t think I could ever be hungry again. My mind and body so numb to everything, hiding away the pain that brimmed just beneath the surface. Refusing to acknowledge or feel it.
I had only seen Bran a handful of times before, mostly when my mother and I visited Merle’s potion shop. We were never particularly close as Solerians and Luanthians didn’t generally form such relationships. If he recognized me that morning, he hadn’t shown it when he plopped himself beside me, scarfing down his own bowl. His mouth was full when he turned and asked, “Want to go catch flame toads with me at the creek today?”
I had, of course, refused.
But he asked again the next day and then the next and everyday after until I eventually caved. At first I would just sit upon the bank, knees pulled to my chest as I watched him wade through the shallow waters. His toothy grin would take up his whole face, bright as the sun that shone down upon us, each time proudly turning to show me his catch.Two months passed with that routine before I finally joined him in the water. Three before I smiled for the first time after my mother’s death. Four before I was chasing him through the waters, our laughter a cacophony of childlike wonder. Six and we became inseparable, much to the townsfolk’s dismay. We had truly been menaces, pulling pranks and running through the streets of our little district of Amori City.
The story being that I was his cousin. Merle, my doting aunt who took me in after my parents died, vowing to teach me the art of Potionry.
And so for the last fourteen years, she taught me everything she knew. Merle poured her knowledge and wisdom into me and trained me towards becoming a Potion Master in my own right. She would take me to the forest to learn, showing me the plants and herbs we used in the shop and how to identify them. When memories of The Cleansing plagued my mind and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing I found solace in the Earth. My mind always quieted as my small fingers dug up roots and stripped leaves from their stems.
They saved me, both figuratively and literally. Had sheltered me from The Cleansing that wrecked through the city, hunting for Luanthians with strong magic to eradicate them. They pulled me from the grief that consumed my mind and heart. Perhaps they weren’t family by blood, but they were by choice—by love. Bran was always more like a brother than a cousin to me.
I met his expectant gaze once more, pushing the tankard away. “I suppose I’m nervous for my upcoming trials,” my voice low to ward off prying ears, his eyes sympathetic and curious all at once. “I’ve never stepped foot upon the palace grounds without you or Merle, nor have I had the desire to. Having to perform and be judged by the Potion Masters is nerve-wracking. What if I fail and have to do anotheryear of apprenticeship?”
It wasn’t what had been plaguing my mind moments before, but it was true enough.
