Aldine, enjoying her second sweet roll of the morning, joined Cassie in the sewing room.
"How is the new stich coming on?"
Reluctantly, Cassie held up the knots that were meant to be simple Xs. No matter what she did, it was impossible for her to make a single good stitch. It was like the thread was more cursed than she was.
"Ah..." With that one word, Aldine encompassed the entire situation: Cassie's frustrated frown, the ripped cloth, and the misplaced, gap-toothed stitches.
"I cut the cloth in the wrong place, and I tried to fix it, but..."
"Yes, you've been working very hard," Aldine murmured.
Had she! Finally someone was noticing. She was constantly exhausted from the work she had had to do since coming to Telyre.
"These things do happen with cloth work. I wouldn't fret too much."
Aldine's soothing words brought immense relief. Accidents happen to everyone—perhaps even Aldine had made huge messes of her work before. And had learned from those accidents how to make the perfect, even stitches she always produced now.
"Cassie, we're running low on bread," the seamstress said, resuming her work on a half-completed bodice. "I need you to get more from the shop in the square. Can you manage going alone?"
It would have been too humiliating to say no, so Cassie nodded, gladly dropped her latest mess, and left the house. It felt good to be outside again, she decided as she took a deep breath. Felt better to leave behind that laughable, abortive attempt at a sleeve hem.
Cassie tugged her cap down and resisted the urge to hide in the shadows of buildings every time she saw someone. The time she had spent exploring Telyre had done nothing to make her less aware of the gaze of every person she passed. What if one of them recognized her? The fear was ludicrous, Cassie insisted, giving herself a mental shake. They were only curious. She was a stranger in their little village. Nothing more.
Her mood lifted when she was able to easily sniff out the bakery rather than having to ask someone. The freshly baked bread that the warm breeze promised made her mouth water, even as the swell of voices put her on guard again. A mother and two children were collecting water from the fountain in the square, but the most babbling voices swelled around the bread shop. Some held parcels of food, some were perusing the few options on the outside counter, and all kept up a steady stream of talk.
As Cassie approached on measured steps, there was a momentary hiccup in the flow of conversation, but after only a glance the villagers carried on. Cassie released her nervous breath. No one glared, stared, or edged away. They did not know she was cursed. She could do this.
The whispered gossip increased once she moved through the crowd, but that was nothing new.
"I saw her come in with the Gemmaros—"
"Heard there was something with a bandit—"
"She doesn't look like one."
"Thomas wants her to face—"
Cassie gritted her teeth and kept moving forward, peering over the counter and into the dim shop. The only person within was a woman with curves Cassie could only envy, her arms coated up to the elbows in flour. She threw four loaves in quick succession to a man near Cassie, who had more than the usual amount of dirt clinging to his legs.
Surely she wasn't trying to make the poor man drop the loaves? Cassie half-opened her mouth, considering protesting, but the man caught all four like a master juggler. He laughed openly. Was it a game?
"You need to work on your arm, Wynne," the man called.
The woman—Wynne—shook an arm at him, the plump skin jiggling. "My arm is just fine, you ass," she called back with a grin. "Just you wait. Tomorrow it'll be five, and you'll have to answer to the rest of the growers why their lunch is seasoned with dirt."
"Eh, they'll understand," the man replied, unfazed. "Those dumb crows are as susceptible to a pretty face as I am."
He left, presumably to tend to whatever plants he dealt with, leaving Wynne blinking in surprise. When she finally turned back to the crowd around her shop and noticed Cassie, there were two spots of pink high in her cheeks.
"Oh!"
Flustered, the woman patted down her hair, leaving white streaks in the blonde waves. Cassie nervously pulled her cap lower on her forehead.
"Beg your pardon," the woman said, dusting off her hands. "I didn't see you." The loose flour left pale white clouds hovering in the air of the bakery. She peered closer at Cassie. "I don't know you," she said, her hazel eyes lit with surprise. "You must be Aldine's new apprentice?"
"Yes," she said stiffly. "Cassie." She just wanted to get some bread and leave.
"Welcome to Telyre." Friendly lot, these peasants. "I'm glad to finally meet you. I'm Wynne, the baker. What brings you here?"
Cassie froze. She knew people were curious—knew they gossiped about her, even—but to be asked to her face—how was she supposed to respond? "Um..."
"Aldine run out of bread again?" Wynne prompted kindly, when it became apparent that Cassie was not producing anything coherent.
Oh. She had only meant why Cassie had come here, to her shop. Mutely, she nodded, busy berating her own idiocy internally.
"Can't really fault her for it," the baker confided with a smile. "Myself, I can't keep away from the rolls with the dried blueberries—and I'm the one who makes them! And, I suppose, she does have another mouth to feed now."
As she spoke, she pulled out a large loaf of brown bread, several rolls, and a small, blue-studded confection from a lower niche that exuded warmth. A slight frown puckered her mouth.
"Unfortunately, I can't send you with her favorite bread," she said, placing the food on a piece of cloth. "The army sent for their collections last week, and ever since the king allowed—well, soldiers need to be sustained, and my stock is depleted." Wynne shook her head, hands coming to rest on her hips. "The way the price of flour is going, I'm not sure—"
Another man, obviously eavesdropping, broke into their conversation.
"It's the same in other villages, I hear," he said, leaning around his friend to speak. "Every settlement the soldiers pass by, they're demanding food, wine, even livestock. The king says we have to do it so that we can win back justice from those devils, but I never saw how starving your own people is anyone's idea of victory."
Cassie almost gasped. The king, staving subjects? The generals had never mentioned raiding Esren villages for food. Stealing supplies was an underhanded act, another crime that the Citakens had been guilty of—but to rob your own people?
"Hush, Gregory!" Wynne said quickly. "Nobody is starving."
"Not yet," someone else muttered darkly. "Feels like every week those mountain savages charge more for wheat. If the Fields were still—"
"That's what wartime is," Wynne said with a glare for them. "We all tighten our belts a bit for the good of the kingdom." She wrapped up Cassie's parcel and passed it to her.
"Of course," Gregory said, unconvinced. "The good of the kingdom."
The baker had left the little blueberry roll unwrapped, and this she pressed into Cassie's hand.
"Something for the way home," she said kindly.
Cassie nodded her thanks, throat suddenly too tight for speech, and hurried home, leaving Wynne to turn and continue her debate over feeding the soldiers.
***
Cassie loved the feel of the world just before it rained, but she knew better than to remain in the meadow, in dirt that would soon turn to slippery, sticky mud. Storms were too dangerous in the woods, even when she was so close to Telyre, especially when the afternoon was so darkened by heavy clouds that it looked like night. She should return home before the deluge arrived and enjoy the storm in the warm comfort of her room. The air sharp with the scent of imminent rain, she slowly left the meadow, taking deep, greedy breaths. Rain made the world new again.
By the time she reached the outskirts of town, the clouds, which had been impatient to release their burden, opened up. Cassie was almost immediately soaked to the skin. She'd wanted to savor the downpour, not end up cold and wet.
Shuddering in a breath, Cassie quickened her pace until she was running through the pelting rain. Shelter was the only thought on her mind now, getting to where it would be dry and somewhat warm, until the rain calmed enough for her to get home.
Up ahead, shelter loomed in the form of the stable door. Perfect. She was due at the stable in a few hours anyway, to perform her nightly chores. She could wait inside for the storm to pass and get her work out of the way once she was a bit drier.
Cassie yanked open the wooden door and dashed inside. A few steps within, she stopped, disoriented by the relative silence and darkness.
"Well, this is an unexpected pleasure," a deeply amused voice said. "I don't often get visitors."
Taking a step back, Cassie peered anxiously through the dim light to find who had spoken.
"You!"
The unpleasant peasant she had come across in her first visit to Telyre—his name was James, wasn't it?—in the act of lighting lamps along the aisle, was momentarily distracted by her cry. "Who?"
Then, peering closer, looking for the face underneath the sodden cap that was plastered down on her head, he crowed with laughter. She had not seen him since that first meeting, and she had—foolishly, it now seemed—held out hope that would continue.
"Oh, hello, Cassie dear! Of course it would be you running around in a storm."
"Don't call me that," Cassie snarled. She wasn't anyone's dear—particularly not this buffoon's!
His good humor unaffected by the menace threatened by her voice, James shrugged. "As you like," he said. "Tell me, little scourge of bandits, what are you doing here? Hoping to see me?" He threw in an outrageous wink. "If that's the case, you didn't have to brave a curse for that. You could have just asked." He returned to the lamps, slowly bringing illumination to the prematurely darkened stable.
Cassie paused in the act of wringing out her rain-soaked skirt. "A curse?" she asked slowly, dread growing in the pit of her stomach. Did...did he know? Had he realized who she was, and that danger would follow her wherever she went? Of all people to discover her, it had to be him?
James shrugged. "Well, I don't really believe in it. But a lot of people in these parts do, that the rain is cursed. Seems a big risk for someone to take, just for a visit to the stables."
He hadn't meant the curse on Cassie. Awash with relief that her identity remained a secret, she spoke before thinking. "My mother always warned me you commoners were superstitious to a fault," she murmured, wiping water off her arms. "I didn't realize how right she was."
"What?"
Cassie looked up, farther than she'd expected, to meet his gaze. Had he come closer and she hadn't noticed? "The cursed rain is a relic, an old fear from the war against the dragons. It's hardly worth remembering, much less passing on." Too many rumors of curses were passed around these days. These peasants probably still believed the mother of the dragons lived in a cottage of fire in the center of the forest.
His green eyes had narrowed at her. "What do you mean, 'you commoners'?" he asked.
Cassie caught her breath, dismayed. What had she done? She'd let the words slip out, forgetting her location, her company, all but the memories that had swamped her of her mother's gentle voice and quiet reminders. It would not do to allow herself to remain awash in memories. If she let them, they would drown her. Those days were behind her. If her luck held, they were behind her forever.
With a quick shake of her head to clear it, Cassie changed the subject and hoped it would serve as a suitable distraction. "What do you mean, asking if I was here wanting to see you?" she demanded. "Putting aside the absurdity of anyone seeking out your company, how could my presence here mean that? I work here in the evenings."
He looked at her as though she was crazy. "Yes, I know. You do work for me. So..."
Cassie drew herself up to her full height of still-too-short. "I do not work for you," she declared. Where did the arrogance of these peasants end? "I simply do some chores for the stable master."
He waited. "Yes. ...And?"
Was he being deliberately dense? "Well, the only way—" Finally, it dawned on her. He was not a dirty stable hand, as she had assumed. As he looked. "You're Winford?"
"The one and only," he said cheerfully. "James Winford."
She could not speak for the horror. To have to do chores for this man, after the way he had nearly broken her leg, after he had made fun of her for it...
"I quit."
He remained undaunted. "If that's what you want, I can't stop you. Just so you know, you are forbidden from riding the horses from now on."
"Excuse me?" she gasped.
Riding was one of the few pleasures Cassie had been able to find in the drudgery of life as a commoner, and now he was threatening to take that away from her. What gave him the right?
"As you were told when you began working here, I require some manner of pay for the rides you take," he told her, heading deeper into the stable. "A little labor was sufficient. However, since you are no longer inclined to continue your duties..." He shrugged.
A soft whicker from one of the stalls broke through Cassie's shock.
"What about everyone else in this town?" she demanded, following him. "I cannot be the only person here who enjoys an occasional ride, yet nobody else has to muck out stalls."
He dismissed her argument with a wave of the hand as he checked on one of the mares. "These horses belong to the town. I do my service to the community by caring for them directly; others do so in less obvious ways, such as the blankets Marie weaves for them."
"How noble of you," Cassie sneered.
"Not noble," he said quickly. "Just practical. We all must do our part if we wish to survive out here."
"I work with the seamstress."
"Yes." James drew the word out enough that Cassie's fingers furled into fists. "I've heard from Leora the lessons you've needed in that department."
The words were a direct blow, shaming her into silence. The only part she was doing for the community was making a mess out of every task Aldine set before her. She was of no use, and certainly no help, to the village, which had provided her a safe haven. But the stable—the stable was something she could do. A way she could help.
"Fine," Cassie ground out. Melodramatically, she threw up her hands. "I will continue to perform my tasks here."
"Excellent." Her words had unfortunately prompted the return of James' grin, which was the last thing she wanted to see, especially when she was soaking wet and in a bad mood.
"Fine. Glad we have that settled."
Her afternoon had not gone the way she'd intended. She had wanted to be in bed, listening to the rain, possibly falling asleep to it, but instead she'd been forced to endure this irritating man's snide remarks. She was not going to remain with him any longer than she had to. The downpour outside had already slowed to a drip, prompting Cassie to move to leave the stable. At least it would be easier for her to walk home now.
She would have been able to leave unhindered, if she hadn't been crippled by her own weakness. Drawn by the voices, one of the mares had stuck her nose over her stall door, hoping for some special treatment. Cassie, who had no treats to give, nevertheless could not resist giving her some loving attention.
"Did you miss me?" she whispered as she rubbed her nose. "It's been less than a day. That's a sweet girl," she crooned quietly. "I'll be back to see you later tonight, and then we'll have some treats, won't we?"
The stable cat jumped smoothly on top of the stall door and sat down on the far end. He settled into preening his fur, but started a strong purr when Cassie tickled behind his ears. He was always greedy for more of the attention he pretended to disdain, and Cassie was glad to indulge him.
James, who had finished checking the other stalls, drew close again without her noticing.
"That's funny," he said aloud, but his voice for once was curious, rather than amused.
Cassie had been having some nonsense conversation and quality eye contact with the mare but broke away at his words. What was funny? Worriedly, her hands went to the bottom of her cap. Had the rain caused her hair to slip from its confines? She couldn't feel any errant strands, so what could he have noticed?
"Your eyes," he said, stooping a little to peer into them. "They're brown." He sounded surprised. "I could have sworn—when we met, they were blue." He stared harder, even as Cassie looked away, unsettled by his gaze. "There's not two of you, is there?"
A twin, he meant? She had to hold back a laugh at the idea. That would be cause for concern indeed—two Cassies running around one small town.
"No," she said, returning her attention to the horse. "My eyes, they just look dark when there's not much light."
Best she refrained from saying more. It was unlikely anyone outside of her family had ever noticed the color of her eyes, but she had learned well from Skylar: there was no such thing as being overly cautious. Certainly no one had ever questioned the color of Elisabet's eyes—but then, Elisabet's eyes did not absorb the color of the darkness, taking it as their own when the light was gone.
James, who seemed to have difficulty finding an appropriate response, finally settled on, "Fascinating." He didn't sound fascinated, and it wasn't a fascinating subject, but what did Cassie care? So far as conversations with peasants went, this was not one of her more productive ones.
"Well—I should get back," Cassie said, when it became clear that neither of them had more to say. "Dry off and all that, before I have to be back for the evening chores."
"Right. Yes." James shifted one of the lanterns slightly and fiddled with the wick. "Of course. I can walk you home; I've been meaning to visit Aldine."
"Oh, that's not necessary," Cassie said quickly. "I'll be fine on my own, and I'm sure Aldine would prefer a visit with more advance warning." That wasn't strictly true, of course; the seamstress always enjoyed visitors, planned or not, but Cassie did not need to spend any more time with James than she had to.
She dropped a kiss on the mare's nose and on the cat's head, despite his growled protest, with a whispered promise to return later that night. Having said her goodbyes, she backed toward the door, even as the horse quietly nickered at her to return. James was still staring at her, his expression inscrutable, when she turned away.
"You do have a way with them, Cassie," James said, his large hand gently coming to rest on the mare's neck. "And I appreciate the help, especially with exercising them."
Cassie had almost reached the door when his voice called her, compelling her to turn around. She did so warily, to find James grinning at her once again.
"I think next time you take a ride, I'd like to come with you. I'd enjoy the company—and it would be better for the horses."
Cassie gulped. The last thing she wanted was to go riding with James for company, but there was no telling how she'd be able to avoid it. "Perhaps," she managed. "We will see."
James waved at her cheerfully. "Until then, little bandit-slayer."
Cassie's cheeks flamed, even as she closed the stable door on his chuckle. As long as she worked for him in the stables, there would be no avoiding him. As she hurried to Aldine's house, the occasional fat raindrop falling on her head, she couldn't help but think James might be right. Maybe the rain was cursed, after all.