Two
I’m so tired of everyone thinking I’m some shrinking violet, just because of my name. I’ll show them. My name will be remembered for more than simply being a flower.
—From the journal of Violet Andrever
The world shattered with sensation.
A tingling soared through me, starting at the bottoms of my feet and racing upward like lightning through my veins. A place buried deep inside me, so deep I had never known it existed, exploded into life, as if waking up after an eternity of sleep.
And then, a ripping sensation burst forth from deep inside my chest. It blared out as a song only those attuned to it could hear, moving with purpose as it charged down the path to an unknown destination. It was so vivid, I could almostseeit: a golden thread, spinning out into the uncharted distance.
The pull to follow the thread was so powerful that, for a moment, my feet moved forward under their own volition. I wanted to chase after whatever had just torn free and find the thing so vital it had brought on this reaction.
But as quickly as this all started, it stopped. The tingling receded down my spine and legs, fading into a warm hum. I stood there, gasping, as though I had just run for miles. The call still vibratedthrough every fiber of my being, but I was no longer captive to it, no longer moving forward against my will.
I shook my head, blinking rapidly, staring down the path unfolding in front of me. It looked the same as the one behind me. Same trees. Same dirt road. Nothing different to explain this reaction. But I was no longer the same person who’d stepped over the invisible threshold. There had been a fundamental shift, deep inside me, not that I could accurately describe it.
Whatever had just happened, there was no going back to who I was before.
Oops.
I sighed and slowly turned around, making my way back to my side of the stones. It felt as though I was swimming upstream. Now that I had broken the barrier, something inside me was reluctant to let me turn back.
I broke free of the force pushing me down the unknown path and stepped back through the stones, heading toward the blacksmith’s shop, shaking off the lingering effects of whatever had just happened. The farther I walked into the village, the more the sensations faded and the more foolish I felt. I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs, wondering if I had simply imagined everything.
I squinted as the morning sun shone in my face. Shit. Now I was definitely going to be late.
I hurried my steps past more wheat fields, their stalks glinting in the sun. Brick-framed cottages with plaster walls, like the cozy one I shared with Nana, dotted the landscape as I headed to the outskirts of town where the blacksmith shop was located.
Cormac, the one person in this town who knew how to both make and use a sword, had settled here when he was done with his service to some unnamed king and had been training me ever since I was young, one of the few things in my life Nana had insisted on. Most of the villagers were intimidated by his bear-like appearance with a wiry black beard and hair and his gruff manner. But I’d grown up hearing him growl at me to not touch anything, stand over there,and lift my sword higher. These days, I won significantly more bouts against him than I lost, but every morning, we still practiced. Old habits died hard, I guess.
“Sorry I’m late,” I called out as I pushed open the door to the stone building, remarkable only in its difference to the rest of the brick and plaster buildings in the town.
Cormac was starting the fires in the massive stone forge, the thick, heady smell of coal permeating the place. He made a sound through his nose expressing his displeasure at my tardiness before jerking his head at me, a silent command to help him before we got started. I was always able to convince the coal to light so much faster than he was. I joined him at the back wall of his shop, where the forge covered the entire space. Luck must have been on my side today, as I started the fires quicker than usual, while he worked the bellows to spread the flames.
Nothing ever changed here—his tools precisely placed each night for use the next day, the anvil well-cared for but scarred from years of work, the various works-in-progress each in their own spot. With such familiarity surrounding me, my adventure of not even a quarter of an hour ago was now a distant memory.
Once he was ready, we went out into the open yard behind his shop. People headed to the fields paused on their way to work to call out encouragement. At first, they had been amused by the sight of the tiny, pale, black-haired girl with turquoise eyes, lifting a sword twice her size and facing off against the bear of a man. I was now a slim, pale, black-haired woman with turquoise eyes, who was still dwarfed by the blacksmith, but I had become significantly better at the sword and people now stopped to egg on Cormac instead.
“Today’s the day, eh, Cormac? Finally beating little Lexa?” a field worker shouted, as we lifted our blades.
I grinned as Cormac growled. Cormac’s style fit his frame, but his hack-and-slash method had never worked for me. I’d had to get faster, more nimble, able to dart in and out around him. I’d learned early on to use his strength against him, and as he dove down, Iducked under his swing, his blade sailing over my head as I spun out of reach.
“Really, Cor? That’s how you’re starting off today? I’ve seen brawls at the tavern with better finesse.”
He growled—roughly translated toyou little shit—as he rotated to face me, lunging forward with enough speed I had to jump back to avoid getting skewered, my long braid flinging out behind me as I moved.
“You’re getting slow, old man.” I grinned at his disgruntled expression. “Late night last night?”
He scowled. “Why are you always this cheery in the morning?” He swung his blade directly at my face.
“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” I replied in a sunny tone, blocking him easily. “Surely it’s the best part of your day, getting to start it with me.”
One of our bystanders called out, “Give it to her, Cormac! Teach her to treat her elders with respect!”
“I thought you were on my side, Garon?” I called back, dancing backward just out of reach.
Cormac pressed his advantage to attack again, and our blades met with a clash, steel ringing through the morning air. He put on another burst of energy as I danced away, parrying his thrusts and attacks with more clangs of metal.
