The King's Marked Page 2

  “Shhh,” I hissed, “you’ll wake Mother.”

  I knew Mother took a supplement to help her sleep at night. The supplement came in the form of a long-fermented brew given to her by Franny Marlbel, the tanner’s wife, who in turn stole the bottles from her husband. By morning, the small room swam in the stale smell of alcohol, which stayed on Mother’s breath for most of the day. Nellene took to pouring the remainder of the bottle in the garden, but another would appear again most nights.

  Dressed, I eased my legs off the bed and sat at the edge for a moment, looking to gain the strength needed to push smooth to standing so Nellene would not become more suspicious and pepper me with dozens of questions.

  “Why were you home so late last night?”

  “Morick had something to show me.”

  She smirked at me. “I bet he did.”

  “Nellene.” I gave her a warning look.

  She rolled her eyes, “Everyone knows you spend more time in his bed than you do in your own. Mother’s expecting a hand binding soon. You better make good between the two of you, or she’ll take back that mattress she gave him.”

  I heaved a breath, not willing to discuss this with my child sister. “Come, you, help me with the stove.”

  My command would not wipe the smirk from her face, but she complied and leaped out of bed like only the young could on a cold morning and disappeared into the main room of our small cottage.

  Soft snores came from the lump under the covers. Only her face showed with her mouth open and cheek pressed firmly against the pillow. When I was young, I thought my mother lovely. Father would splay her wet, long black hair across his lap in front of the firelight and brush the strands until they dried, all the while telling us a story. The stories were wild and fanciful, filled with heroes and princesses, and I would hang on every word while I sat at his feet and watched him tend to Mother’s hair. Despite our humble cottage and simple furnishings, at those moments, I thought of my mother as a queen and Father her loving king. And that life would always be secure as long as I could sit at my father’s feet and watch him lovingly brush Mother’s hair.

  Father’s death gutted me, but I had the resilience of youth. He’d been my father but not my mate, my lover, my support. But then, Mother had always been weak—kind, loving, but weak. And now she couldn’t make it through the night without help from the supplement inside a stolen bottle. Her looks faded, her body became frail, and I lied most days about my whereabouts to keep her sane.

  Life was unjust and cruel, everyone knew that. But back then, inside our little cottage at night by the firelight, I would pretend our family had been spared the life given to everyone else. When my father died, I realized that wasn’t so.

  I took a solid breath and stood, ignoring my screaming thigh muscle and joined Nellene by the stove. Soon enough my body would numb from the pain as my muscles became accustomed to my work. Nellene disappeared outside with the pan while I gave myself a few moments in front of the stove to warm before I would head outside for some wood.

  My herb bag lay on the table, where I’d dropped it on my return last night. Normally I would prepare my collection first thing, but after everything, I just needed my bed. A day old with no initial preparation and these herbs were no good for tinctures. I would dry them instead and make some salves with the remainder.

  Nellene returned and placed the pot, now full of water, on the stove when someone knocked on our door. A moment later, Morick came through, with two rabbit carcasses gutted and skinned in his hand. Nellene’s pretty face lit up into a smile as she eyed him and then me. I knew my sister’s expression too well, but it was too late to give her a warning scold.

  “You’re in a good mood this morning,” Morick said as he thumped the two carcasses on a plate Nellene had laid out for our breakfast and came over to ruffle her hair. His eyes flitted to my left thigh and then to my face as he came over and pressed a hand to my cheek, out of affection but also concern. His eyes delved deep into mine, looking for signs of illness.

  “And you look beautiful,” he said as he continued to gaze into my eyes.

  “You kept Rya out late last night,” Nellene said with mock accusation.

  Morick turned his head to wink at her, then back to me, one eyebrow raised in that way I always loved.

  “Maybe we could have a talk outside,” he said to me.

  “Why, what’s wrong with having a talk here?” Nellene said.

  Even without the official hand binding, Morick had become a part of this family, so I was curious myself as to why he would choose to talk in private. There was little to say about yesterday that had not already been said. The only other thing left unsaid that needed privacy was something I wanted and feared in equal measure.

  I wiped imaginary dirt from my hands down my pants. “Maybe you could take Mother a hot drink?”

  “Why? How long are you going to be? You’re not going to disappear for hours again, are you? I need help in the garden today.”

  “Of course I won’t be long, so you can stop your whining. We’re just going outside.”

  Morick leaned over and ruffled her hair again. “How about I lend a hand too, after I’ve finished my morning’s work?”

  With all the offers at hand, Nellene’s smile grew broader.

  I followed Morick into our small garden, shutting the door behind me to keep the warmth from the fire in and the chill out. The cottage was small enough that the old stove provided good heat, even with the missing flakes of wood at the bottom of the door. In winter we would often plug those gaps with fabric.

  Nellene’s garden was small but bountiful. Jacom and Morick showed little skill in growing food, and so we did a trade, meat for vegetables, but Morick would continue to supply us with half his hunt even if we gave him little in return.

  Morick led me farther from the house, then turned, his brow creasing as he watched me walk toward him. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine, stiff, but fine.”

  “There is no sign of fever or any other illness?”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. I took an extra dose of my supplies last night and slept deep. A few days and you won’t even know it happened.”

  He heaved a sigh and took my hands, pulling me nearer. “Yesterday, when I found you in the forest…” He took another breath. “All that blood…” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  I placed a finger over his lips. “It doesn’t need to be said.”

  He moved my fingers from his mouth, enclosing them in his hands. “In that moment, I thought I lost you. You have no idea how that made me feel.”

  “Remember you said I’m too stubborn to die.”

  “Rya.” The single word, my name, stilled me.

  “I want us joined. I want you as my wife, the mother of my children, the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning. Always.”

  My throat thickened before I could reply. I wanted this. I wanted Morick. But I did not want to love. I did not want to feel vulnerable. I did not want to know my mother’s pain. We’d been friends longer than we’d been lovers. When I’d succumbed and gone to his bed, it was because my body spoke louder than my reason. I’d tried to keep away, tried to keep us from being anything more than lovers, but Morick’s gentle kindness won through. What was better? Love and loss or no love at all?

  Seconds passed before I realized I’d not replied. I stared up into his open, honest face and felt something inside of me melt away. A barrier subsided within my heart and my love flowed out. “You do realize it’s not just me you will be bound to?”

  The hard press of his lips on mine bent me backward. His kiss held an urgency I’d not felt before. I softened against his body as my hands snaked their way into his hair.

  “Is that all you were going to do?”

  Nellene’s voice broke us apart. She stood, hands on hips. Once she had our attention, she rolled her eyes and stormed off inside.

  Morick and I looked a
t each other, then laughed.

  “I think I can handle your sister,” he said between feathering kisses down my neck. “But you will have to take on Jacom.”

  “And you will have to contend with my mother.”

  “Easy. She already loves me,” he said, extracting himself at last from our embrace.

  He was right. Mother loved him the moment he first turned up on our doorstep covered in mud from his mock battles with Doran, my third eldest brother, his constant companion.

  “You’re right, she’s always loved you.” Although the sight of him brought her pain for a long while after Doran was taken. As part of the fealty we owed to King Lugal, we were forced to give up half our bounty from the year’s harvest and half our grown sons, but the soldiers had been cruel to take all my mother’s sons. Once gone, they never returned. No one knew if any survived. On the night Doran left, Mother yelled and cried and begged to know why they had taken her son and not Morick, but Morick’s parents had already died and there was no one left to care for his younger brother. The soldiers showed uncharacteristic mercy that day by leaving him behind.

  I cried myself to sleep that night, awash with turbulent emotions. I loved my brother and it hurt to see him go, but I also did not want to lose Morick. We weren’t lovers then, but he’d become a close friend, and I’d taken to watching him as he worked, while budding feelings of desire welled inside. But this was before Father died, before I became afraid of losing my heart.

  I took Morick’s hand and we headed back toward the house.

  “When are you next heading to market?” he said.

  “Today.”

  “You sure you should walk that far so soon?”

  “It’s not that far and it will do my leg some good. I have herb stock that needs selling.” I smiled as I looked up at him. “Besides, I will need money to buy a dress.”

  His own smile of joy ended the argument. At the door, he took my hands and turned me to face him. “I want us joined soon. Today I will pay a visit to Gwelin and ask if she will perform the ceremony within the week.”

  “That is soon.” I shook my head and chuckled.

  “I’ve waited long enough, Rya.” He kissed me and backed away, holding our gaze as long as possible before he turned and walked away.

  I watched him go. What I saw was a strong man, loyal and loving, compassionate and faithful, just like my father. I placed my fingers over my lips and swallowed the sudden sickness and tightening in my chest. Today was a day for joy, not fear. The past had to remain where it belonged. My life would unfold as destined regardless of how much I tried to manipulate it to protect myself, so there was no point in ruining what I had now.

  3

  I wrapped my cloak around myself to ward off the cold as I neared the market. My heavy skirt flowed around my ankles and I welcomed the chill underneath with each step. When I came to market, I dressed the part of a lady to stop the stares and whispers behind upheld hands. The villagers feared difference as much as they feared the dead forest to the east of our kingdom.

  We lived on the outskirts of our village, where few people ventured. Father never liked the confines of village life, preferring the open spaces and birdsong to the chatter and noise of a busy life. Mother hated being so far out, but she had been in love and willing to follow my father anywhere.

  Mother feared the wolves that sometimes prowled on the perimeter of the forest, but most of all, she feared talk of the beasts that lived within the dead forest. Even though our village was far from the dead forest, Mother believed the pets of the wraiths were able to leave the dead forest and roam at will. No one had ever seen evidence of this, but that did not stop her believing.

  So far from our village, the dead forest was more folklore than reality. But travelers passing through brought tales of the persistent gloom that shrouded the land and the fearsome sounds that echoed through the dead trees. According to legends, the dead forest was the kingdom of the wraiths and their demon slaves. Their only freedom from the cage of their domain was on Hallow’s Eve, when the veil thinned, allowing them to break free and rain down their rage and malice on the kingdoms to the west.

  I found it hard to fear a place so far away. No demons had ever appeared in the village on Hallow’s Eve to rape the women and murder the men. Nonetheless we lit the bonfires with sage and marked our doors with etchings designed to keep the demons and their lords out.

  By the time I made it to market, my limp had returned. Morick was right in saying the walk would be too much too soon, but I was determined to continue with my routine. A scratch would not deter me. As I made my way up the lane to my usual stall, I nodded to those who were friendly to me and ignored the hard eyes of those who spoke with venom behind my back. Jealousy made serpents of humans. Perhaps some of the village people need look no further than their front door on Hallow’s Eve if they wanted to see a demon.

  Larissa was already at our stall by the time I arrived. She was my childhood friend and someone else in this world I loved beside my family and Morick. She’d swept her brown hair back in a tight bun but wore a small blue flower behind her ear, a delicate touch I’d not seen her bother with before. Larissa was a no-nonsense sort of woman and shunned what she called frivolous beauty, but today her face glowed despite her tight bun and dowdy brown skirt.

  She frowned the moment she saw me, placing a hand on her hip. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “You don’t look so bright, and I swear you were limping just now.”

  “I was attacked in the forest yesterday. A hog, but the gash is shallow, and I’ll live.”

  “You promised you would not go there alone.”

  I set my herb bag down on the cart and turned to her, readying my argument when she held up her hand. “I had things to take care of yesterday, and I’m sorry, but you promised. It wasn’t necessary for you to make a trip. We have plenty of stock to last for at least another week.”

  I busied myself with pulling the new supplies from my bag. “Yes, but the Ashwagandha is in bloom and the leaves are young and supple. I didn’t want to waste a day.”

  Larissa sighed, giving up the argument before it began. “Needless to say, your mother doesn’t know about your accident.” Her tone was crisp.

  “Morick helped me home.”

  “Oh, so you weren’t alone. Well, that makes it all right then. Besides, I’m not interested in a quarrel today.” Her lips twitched as she placed the tinctures and salves in a prominent position at the front of the cart.

  “I know that look. What are you up to?”

  She dropped the bag and faced me, her lips spreading into the widest smile I’d seen her wear. “I’ve not bled for two moons.”

  “Oh my stars.”

  I sprung forward and swept her into a hug. After wedding last summer, Larissa had expected a baby to arrive soon after. When none was forthcoming we’d concocted every herb we knew that would increase her fertility, to no avail.

  “It looks like we both have good news,” I said over her shoulder as she kept me in a tight hug.

  She set me back. “And what good news is yours?”

  “Morick asked me to marry him this morning.”

  She burst out laughing. “It seems a near brush with death finally moved him along.” On sobering, she said, “Congratulations, beautiful. This is what you deserve.” Then she held up a finger. “And don’t you say it. I’m glad to see this idiotic fear of yours has finally gone.”

  My smile would not match my friend’s, no matter how hard I tried. She was right, holding myself back from love would bring me nothing but loneliness, and perhaps that was a greater pain.

  By midafternoon Larissa’s husband, Welhim, turned up, hoping to take her home. The loving look he gave her and the sly smile she returned told me all I needed to know about why he came looking for her so early in the day. I shooed her away, saying that most of our produce had been sold and that I would see her tomorrow. He grabbed h
er hand and rushed off, and all I could think about was Morick.

  Everyone in the village knew everyone else’s business. And despite others keeping their opinions to whispers, Morick’s and my behavior was at the forefront of any gossip, but this would soon be forgotten after the binding ceremony. We would be free to act differently in public without being the main topic of the day every time either of us came into the village.

  We’d sold well enough today, and buoyed by Welhim’s bold whim, I decided to pack up and pay a visit to Morick and reinforce how happy I was that we were to be wed. Because I was, truly. It seemed all it took was a declaration of love, something that went beyond the bedroom, to wither the hardened barrier I had tried to enforce around my heart.

  While I was packing my things away, a child ducked under my cart so fast she’d been a blur in my periphery. I crouched down and peered under when, seconds later, a pattering of a dozen young feet raced past. The children were laughing and yelling at each other, pointing in different directions.

  “Hello,” I said.

  She turned to me and held a hand up to her mouth. “Shhh. They aren’t supposed to know I’m here.”

  I’d not seen the girl before. Few had money to dress well, but the girl’s torn and shabby dress made my heart weep. Her thin, scraggily legs were on display and her dirty bare feet were hard and calloused. I had to resist the urge to wipe her wild, knotted hair from her face.

  “Is this a game of hide-and-seek?” I said as I settled on the ground.

  She huffed herself up. “And you’re going to ruin it.”

  “No, I won’t. I’m good at keeping secrets.” I shuffled in beside her. “You know I used to play that exact game when I was a little girl.”

  “I’m not little,” she said with a scoff.

  “You’re not. But you’re small enough to fit under my cart without any problems. That’s the sort of place I used to hide. I’m Rya, by the way.”

  She looked at my hand long enough before she decided to take it. “Peeta.”