Chapter One
Andi
Have you ever felt like you're being followed? It’s like a bone-chilling dread that sends ice prickling along your skin and gives you an overwhelming urge to run. Eyes watching your every movement, studying, waiting.It’s not like the usual stares I get from folk when they notice my mismatched eyes. This is more disturbing.
Typical, that tonight of all nights, I get this weird feeling, when my town is teeming with newcomers paying homage to the goddess of harvest and fertility—Pria.
No matter where I look, folk stare, but the perturbing prickle that stings every inch of my body doesn’t belong to any of them. I shake off the feeling, putting it down to the dread I’ve had over this evening.
“Come on, Andi. I want to dance,” my younger sister, Elana, whines. Seizing my arm, she drags me past the crowd of bystanders.
Folks from all over the country travel to celebrate the Summer Solstice in our small town of Vendyl. For one night only, hardships are forgotten. The complexities of daily life are pushed to the back of the mind while they laugh, sing, drink, and dance until dawn—when regret rears its ugly head.
I love it. The whole absurdity of it all.
Often at these events, I hide in the darkest corners, spying on folk who are determined to make fools of themselves. Peasantsdancing with lords as though they are equals, disregarding their social differences. The lords pretending they are part of the community; dancing in the mud while wearing their finery, flaunting their expensive jewellery, all while lapping up thesimplelifestyle.
By morning light, the high and mighty lords go back to whatever lavish house they came from, forgetting about the impoverished folk they left behind.
Here in Vendyl, we used to live in relative comfort; everyone earned their keep, just enough to keep them content. That is, until the new high lord rose to power.Rumour has it, this new high lord—Adrian—is a shallow man who has a love for expensive, pretty things, and outlandish foods from far corners of the world.
How does he pay for all these extravagances?
By increasing taxes to extortionate and unfair levels, thrusting us all into hardship. All to appease his proclivities.
Now, folk scrape pennies together to buy bread, patching up clothes and shoes filled with holes. Children play in the streets with broken toys, unable to afford new ones. Every day, they go to the schoolhouse with a hungry belly and leave the same way.While the lords and ladies feast at lavish tables, throwing scraps to the dogs, with new dresses for each occasion. Their children moan for highly sought-after toys that are soon discarded for their latest desires.
It’s pitiful and disgusting, watching them laugh and drink together like best buddies. Arm in arm, cheek to cheek.
But I see it. The slight scrunch of the nose at the stench of commoners or the scrutinising of rags they have donned for such an event. Egotistically, the wealthy laugh while parodying niceties. No matter how hard they try, they can’t hide their disdain at being forced to mingle with those they deem unworthy.
Elana hauls me over beside the bonfire, where most of the young spend their night dancing.Mum never allows us to leave the house without looking our best. Tonight is no exception, our Mum hoping we’ll meet the man of our dreams.
Little does she know, the man ofmydreams hates events such as these, and would much rather stay sulking in his flat.Since Elana agrees with Mum, tonight we wear beautifully altered, old dresses of Mum’s: chiffon, with velvet bodices. Colourful flowers decorate our hair, and wear pumps that are slightly too small.
Every year, Governor Jamieson makes sure everything is decorated in a classy manner, with food vendors invited from surrounding towns. The bonfire crackles and spits embers. Each step we take whisks the sparks into the air like fireflies; glowing like the young men who are trying to chance their luck by pulling us apart, hoping to charm us, and trick us into falling in love with them.
It is the perfect atmosphere for it, with firelight, free-flowing food, and alcohol. Lanterns light the way into the lover’s labyrinth, created with the largest red, rose bushes in all of Linorah —Jamieson’s pride and joy.
Elana and I dance around the fire for hours, spinning and laughing. Elana bats her eyelids at the young men waiting in the wings. Seizing the opportunity, I spin her in their direction and blend in with the crowd before she can force me back again.
My feet are in searing pain. Blisters begin to bulge—thanks to the ill-fitting pumps. Each step sends a shooting pain up my leg, causing me to ungracefully drop into a chair at the edge of the park. Shakily, I slide off my pump, recoiling as the shoe tears off a layer of skin. I rest the ball of my foot against an upturned bucket.My foot stings with a burning sensation. I wince as the cool air brushes against my raw heel.
I wonder if I can withstand the pain of hobbling home for some of Mum’s calendula salve.
Being the town’s medicinal healer, it’s Mum’s job to help the townsfolk with anything from cuts and scrapes, to childbirth and palliative care.
Elana—the squeamish sort she is—refuses to help, leaving it all to me.Surely after having helped Mum for as long as I have, I would learn a thing or two, but I’m as useless as I was on my very first day.
Leaning on the fence for support and grimacing with each step, I begin the long, arduous journey home.Raucous chattering from the other side of the field grabs my attention. I limp along, craning my neck over the sizeable crowd to see what all the fuss is about—most likely a fortune teller or a witch performing magic tricks.
“What kind of food does the giant eat?” A young girl asks from the front of the crowd.
“Oh, that can be anything from goats to people. He isn’t picky,” a quiet, croaky voice answers her.
The crowd is larger than I thought, must be around thirty folk crammed together. Some sitting in front, whilst others linger in the back, all enthralled by her tale.An old woman sits hunched on a wooden chair in the corner, her silver hair tied up in a loose bun. Small, rounded glasses rest on the tip of her nose. Her face beams with light and kindness, her blue eyes twinkle in the moonlight, with a dazzling glow around her that is captivating.
“Will he come here?” a small child asks, her voice trembling, her arms wrapping around her petite frame.