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Chapter One

Scarlett

The sun dips below the horizon as I slowly open the door to the cottage. If I move carefully, the old hinges won’t squeak and alert my mother of my arrival. Then, I can sneak up the stairs to my loft without being seen.

Unfortunately, luck is not on my side.

“Scarlett, come into the kitchen please!” my mother calls out from the back room of the house.

With a sigh, I abandon my efforts to be stealthy. The door croaks like a dying toad when I push it all the way open, letting it slam shut once I’m inside. Tugging the ties of my deep red cape, I slip it off my shoulders and hang it by the door.

My mother hates it, but it was a gift from Vera, my grandmother, so she gave up trying to talk me into packing it into a trunk, never to be seen again.

I also think she hates it because of its flamboyance. It’s nearly the same color as my wavy hair, something else she despises. My long locks have always been quick to tangle and are much brighter than her pin-straight auburn hair. She bemoaned the color since it darkened to deep ruby red during my teens. Before then, it was a rich strawberry blonde.

Smoothing the front of my wrinkled, grass-stained dress, I walk through the small parlor, straight to the warm kitchen.

My mother and stepfather, Heston, sit at the table with two steaming cups of tea. There’s a third cup, presumably for me, but it’s still empty.

Disapproval tugs at the corners of my mother’s mouth, and her brow furrows as her eyes take in the state of dress. But she doesn’t say anything.

I’ve seen the same expression on her face so often that it no longer bothers me. She gave up trying to make me into a lady years ago.

I sit in the chair across from them and pour myself a cup of tea.

“You’re home late,” my mother states, primly folding her hands in front of her.

“It took longer than I expected to walk home from Grimsgate.”

I don’t tell her it took me longer because I found every reason to dally along the way. I would rather be anywhere but here. Which means I do my best to avoid the house except when it’s time to sleep. I also haven’t told her that I’m no longer just supplying the town healer, but the apothecary and the alchemist as well. She doesn’t need to know of my current activities or future plans.

The coin pouch tucked into my bodice is heavy against my lap. I almost have enough to purchase a cottage of my own. When I do, I will no longer have to answer to my mother or my stepfather. Or anyone.

I will be gloriously alone, able to come and go as I please.

She sighs but doesn’t say anything else. Since I’m unmarried, she is somewhat satisfied that I’m productive.

“We have some wonderful news for you,” she says, a wide smile on her lips but it doesn’t touch her eyes.

It never does.

She smiles, laughing as if she’s happy. She would probably even swear to the goddess she was, but her eyes tell a different story. Her eyes are always dull, as though none of the emotions she emulates actually exist inside her.

“What’s that?” I ask, a knot forming in my belly. I understand my mother well enough to know good news for her is usually something I’d rather avoid.

“Your betrothal has been arranged to the wealthiest man in Grimdale!”

The knot in my belly grows into a lead ball, threatening to come up with bile. “What?”

“Victor has been speaking with your father about his interest in you. He offered for your hand in marriage. Your father, of course, accepted on your behalf.”

My throat grows so tight I fear I won’t be able to breathe. I look at Heston, my stepfather, not my father. He nods, a triumphant expression on his face.

For a moment, I worry the tightness in my throat will keep me from speaking, but I surprise myself with the force of my response. “No.”

The word isn’t loud when it falls from my lips, but it is firm. Hard, even.

Disapproval crosses my mother’s face, quickly followed by frustration. “There is no need to shout, Scarlett.”