Esmelie gulped. ‘I went to get bread from the bakery and Beatrovie asked if I’d heard the news of the upcoming wedding. She took great pleasure in telling me all about it.’ Esmelie wailed and covered her face with her hands. ‘It can’t be true. Ravie won’t take that other girl. We’ve promised ourselves to each other.’
Maylie chewed on her lip. Their aunt had warned Esmelie many times that one of the Governor’s sons would not be wedding the daughter of the village drunkard. But Esmelie had always insisted otherwise.
Maylie poured a cup of milk from the pitcher on the table and handed it to her sister. It was a little sour, but better than nothing. ‘What does Ravie say?’
‘I’ve not seen him yet, but he’ll be as upset as I am. He loves me.’ Her voice wobbled and she burst into a fresh gush of tears.
‘But if Ravie’s mam’s decided it …’ Maylie’s voice trailed off.
In the Mountain villages, the mams presided over the weddings of their offspring and no match could be made without their blessing.
‘I don’t care.’ Esmelie sat up and wiped the back of her hand across her face. Her eyes were pinched and red. She took a deep breath. ‘We’re going to run away together. We’ve been planning it.’
Maylie stared.
‘Don’t look at me like that, May. You’re coming too.’
Maylie sat down on one of the hard, wooden chairs at the table. Their cottage was larger than Tadrie’s with a kitchen and two bedrooms, but it was sparse and plain. Most items had been sold to settle Pap’s debts.
‘We can’t leave.’
‘What else are we going to do, May? There’s no reason to stay.’ Esmelie’s jaw was set, her gaze steady and fixed.
‘But, Auntie—’
‘She’s dying. And when she’s gone, we’ll be all alone. With Pap.’
Maylie gulped. Tadrie’s health had been declining for several winters, and lately she had grown even weaker, the round, solid woman replaced with a shrunken, frail figure. Maylie had been trying to ignore it, but her sister was right. Tadrie would not recover from this sickness. The end was fast approaching, and no elixir or potion could stop it.
‘I’m Auntie’s apprentice,’ said Maylie. ‘Silicia needs me.’
‘Those people don’t care nothing for us! Didn’t you just see howthey treated me? Pap will sell Auntie’s cottage and he’ll drink or gamble the flecks away. You need to be realistic.’
Tears bit the back of Maylie’s throat. She sniffed.
‘I’m sorry.’ Esmelie climbed to her feet and put a hand on Maylie’s shoulder. ‘I’m not trying to upset you, I just want you to see that you have to come with me. I won’t leave you here alone with Pap.’
‘But you’re only sixteen winters old.’
Most girls did not wed before their nineteenth winter; they waited to be free of the Maiden Sacrifice first.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Esmelie. ‘We’ll lie about our ages and change our last names. No one will be able to come after us.’
Maylie chewed at her lip. ‘If you run away, Ravie will definitely go too?’ she asked.
‘Of course. He loves me.’
Maylie wanted to believe it. She sighed and rose to her feet. ‘I need to get back to Auntie,’ she said. ‘I left a friend watching over her.’
Esmelie took a sip of milk and winced. ‘Ravie and I can’t wait too long, May,’ she warned. Her voice was soft but firm. ‘We want to leave before midwinter.’
Maylie paused by the front door. ‘Where will you go?’ she asked.
‘To the capital. To Tormale.’ A dreamy smile stretched across Esmelie’s mouth. ‘I’ve always wanted to see it. And you will come too, won’t you?’
Maylie sighed. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she muttered. ‘I need to get back to Auntie now.’
But even as she turned away, Maylie knew there was no question of her staying. She would follow her sister anywhere.
