Ailith slammed her staff against the straw dummy’s head, envisioning the man who’d asked her to marry him last night. The vibration traveled up her arms and into her spine as she readied another blow.
He’d ruined everything.
The Midsummer Feast was the only royal celebration where she didn’t have to wade through…
“Remember when we took that egg?” Granpapa leaned his head against the back of the chair, eyes closed in a grimace. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
Jani swallowed the ache in her throat. “That was some adventure.
Every spring, just as the raspberries began to redden, Grandpapa’s mind would slip into these fanciful waking dreams.
Every spring, the past called Cheroth back to a land that did not want her, compelling her against reason or need. She swept low over the tree line and into full view of the village, beating her wings in the slow rhythm of one trying to suppress hope. A woman caught her shadow and looked up.
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“You’re about to see wonders none of your friends back home will believe.” The old sailor wiped his sweaty brow with a stained cloth. “Y-e-p.”
He dragged the word out to three distinct syllables, and Daryn gritted his teeth. That dingy, smelly codger danced daily on what nerves remained in Daryn’s control…
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