Year of Corwaithe 1231

The plague that ran unbridled through her homeland had finally dwindled down. Now only a few people were dying in a week’s time instead of more than ten people in a day. It finally had no one left to take. Whatever the disease was, it left her motherless with a bedridden father. It left many children without parents and a grieving king trying to handle it all.

Her king, Folermon Swanshé, was a good man who had tried everything in his power to rid his land of this epidemic, but even his valiant efforts were for naught. He too lost his wife and the small child she carried. His son, Warren, barely made it through his sickness. In all of Swanshé, no one went untouched. Even the animals, both wild and domestic, passed through the crucible of the plague and either died or survived unscathed, like her.

Avalee walked out of the home once holding joy and laughter for her, to the cliffs overlooking the roaring, swelling sea. Swanshé was a beautiful and rugged land, covered in giant rocks and coastal cliffs. On a clear morning, she could just make out the waterfall tumbling out to the ocean not far from her home. She loved living here, where her face met the crisp, salty sea breeze every morning and her eyes greeted the vivid sunsets every night.

The wind teased her untamed honey hair, whipping her dark forest green dress against her body. Not too far from her own home, Shona Castle stood tall and proud above the crags, but after the devastation of the plague, the once noble building seemed hollow. No laughter came echoing out of the stone walls. No children chased through the courtyard. The castle itself stood in mourning for the lives lost in such a short amount of time.

“Getting a cleansing breath, I see, Avalee,” a man remarked.

She turned her intense gaze to the king beside her. “Greetings, my liege,” she said, dipping her head respectfully.

Folermon smiled. “I believe we are past this now as your father is my oldest and dearest friend.”

“One must always pay proper respect, even amongst friends.”

He rubbed his chin, nodding. “Very astute of you, my dear girl, and now I need you to use your wise head again.”

“It’s my pleasure to be of service to you in whatever you need,” she replied without hesitation.

Folermon nodded.

Every day for the past week, Folermon and her father spoke about what to do for their people, and about what to do with her. Her father wanted her to marry a man from Hernan Castle in order to align Swanshé with the wealthy Meerdoran clan, to bring peace and trade. Although Avalee had secretly hoped to choose her own husband one day, she’d always known a political alliance was a far more likely fate for the daughter of Swanshé’s master carpenter, and friend of the king. She discerned as much on the king’s countenance.

Avalee turned back to the waters, taking a deep breath as she did so. Leaving this land and all she had ever known was going to be difficult. But if marrying a stranger could help her to save her people, she would do so without hesitation.

She peered at her king. Silent tears rolled down his tired, worn face. His beautiful wife, Bethany, had been the first to perish from the plague. Her unborn babe never saw the light of day. Avalee placed a comforting hand on his arm as they watched the sea together.

In everything that happened, the roaring of the waves remained a constant for the people of Swanshé. Watching the waves hit the sandy beach helped Avalee to forget her own troubles and the new ones soon coming.

Folermon patted her hand, stuffing it into the crook of his arm as he led her to her home. Avalee walked with him, allowing him to lean on her to steady himself. The sickness left him weaker than he let on. To the public, he seemed to be doing better, but Avalee knew the truth.

“I know what is to be discussed,” she offered after a bit.

Folermon hesitated. “Do you?” he asked, coughing into his handkerchief. “So, tell me, if you know. What is your answer?”

“Yes,” she said, without reluctance.

She knew what her father wanted her to do. Even if he didn’t discuss it openly at home, he did so in his sleep. Luchak wanted her to marry Justin Hernan of Hernan Castle, and in return, the Hernan’s would send men with food, clothing, and supplies to help Swanshé rebuild. Accepting this marriage was an easy decision for her to make.

But the look on Folermon’s face was one of sadness and torment. She realized he didn’t want to ask this of her, but then again it wasn’t truly his choice to make. For the good of her people, or what was left of them, she had to do right by them.

“Yes, I will. It is my final answer,” she said more firmly.

Folermon embraced her. “You are the daughter I would have wanted mine to be.”

They continued walking back to her house in silence. There was nothing more to say or do. In truth, she didn’t want to talk anyway, but Folermon already knew that.

She opened the door to their home to welcome the king of Shona Castle. The winded man entered, immediately sitting in the nearest chair. He was sick. Sicker than he tried to let anyone know. It seemed to her time was running short for everyone—for all but the rare few whom the fever touched but then passed over. And there seemed little she could do to help.

She went over to the pitcher of boiled water and poured Folermon a drink. He drank greedily from the mug. Silently, she waited until he was done before helping him out of the chair and directing him to the place where her father was resting.

As they shuffled to her father’s chamber together, Luchak opened his somber eyes to greet his old friend. Her father’s green eyes brightened at seeing the person who was like his brother.

“She knows, Luchak, and has agreed,” Folermon began, sitting in a chair with a tired sigh. “Nevertheless, I still do not agree with you.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to agree with me,” Luchak replied. Sitting up, he coughed into his hand. “Sometimes I think she is too wise for her own good.”

“Your daughter is a very perceptive woman,” Folermon praised. “It is a good thing.”

“I hope you know, Avalee, I only want what is best for you.”

Avalee nodded.

“I love you with all my being.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

She stayed back in the shadows of the darkened room. Light seemed to bother her father’s sensitive eyes since the sickness. Seeing him so deteriorated brought tears to her own eyes and sent icy trickles through her gut. Her father was the last person in all of Castre she had.

And she knew her papa only wanted to ensure her future. He didn’t want her to be alone or find herself stuck in a situation of being used by a man. She wasn’t mad at the idea of an arranged marriage. Honestly, she was more worried Justin Hernan would take one look at her and then back out of the arrangement.

She stood to the side of the doorway while her father and Folermon discussed the details of her future marriage. It was decided as her godfather, Folermon would adopt her and legally make her a princess. Then he would offer her hand in marriage to the Meerdoran prince. As a wedding gift to her, the Meerdorans would send supplies to her clan. As a gift to her husband, Swanshé would offer coin and Avalee herself, a skilled carpenter. While she listened to the men discuss her future, she knew she should be smiling, but she wasn’t. She didn’t care about having money or titles. She wished to keep the life she had.

Avalee had enough responsibility on her young shoulders as it was. Before the epidemic hit, she had to care for the three orphaned children, but now there were twenty. Avalee didn’t mind. As an only child, her parents had given her so much love, she felt free to take that love and lavish it on the orphans. And love them dearly she did.

She looked up at her father, who was quietly conversing with Folermon. Luchak had meticulously trained her since she was five to be his apprentice. Even when she was still a child, her father was hard on her. He constantly critiqued her work—the sanding, beveling, sculpting designs, lacquering the wood, and so on. At the end of the day, she knew he was proud of her.

Her stunning mother, Gloria, was the beauty of the land. Her luscious honey-blonde hair used to fall in waving locks down her back. Her vivid green eyes made even the grass envious of their intensity. Gloria was charming, polite, and sweet, always serving others before considering herself. And her father was the master carpenter who built and designed many intricate small pieces of décor the king wanted. Together, her parents were the center of the village clan. Well known, respected, and loved by everyone.

But her? She didn’t like to socialize like her mother did. She preferred the quiet sound of the beveled chisel against a piece of oak and the velvet of a smoothly sanded surface to the touch of lace. So, her father took her under his wing, turning her into his proud prodigy. Her mother protested tremendously, wanting her to make friends, to sing and dance. But Avalee already had a friend, a large tomcat named Humphrey. Eventually, and to her utter relief, her mother gave up trying to mold her into an outgoing lady and finally accepted the fact her daughter preferred the quietness of the shop.

“So, Avalee. Are you ready for me to adopt you and to continue on with this plan of offering your hand in marriage?” the king asked, breaking her reverie. “You can say no.”

She smiled demurely at the king who offered her a way out. She wouldn’t take it though.

Avalee squared her shoulders. “Yes, I am ready.”

“You will not be coming back here, Avalee,” her father warned her.

She nodded.

“I only want the very best for you in this life,” Luchak reiterated.

Avalee dipped her head, tucking stray hairs behind her ear. “Yes, Father.”

“I will not see you again, my daughter. You need to know that.”

But she did know it. She knew this all too well. She knew by saying yes, when the time came, it would be the last time she would ever see her beloved homeland. More importantly, her father. It left her feeling empty inside. Almost sick to her stomach.

Avalee looked down at the floor, blinking away tears. “I’m aware, Father.”

“You can take Humphrey,” Folermon added, trying to ease the ache.

Avalee nodded. “When will I be getting married?” she ventured to ask.

“In a few days’ time. As soon as your groom arrives.”

So, he was already on his way? Her father and the king knew she would say yes, for she could never say no to helping her clan in need. But this blow felt like a betrayal, even if she hadn’t been betrayed. She had known of their intentions all along. Still, it stung her heart they hadn’t asked her prior to today.

“I’m ready,” she said, trying to make her voice sound convincing. But it wasn’t.

Justin Hernan, her betrothed. She was going to become Lady Hernan. She snorted. Hernan, she thought to herself. Sounds almost like hermit. She closed the door and went to sit on the bench out front. The wind picked up, wildly whipping her hair all over the place. This was one thing she knew she wouldn’t miss—the fierce ocean wind in her face.

Her tawny cat came out from under the bench, twirling himself in between her legs. Avalee smiled at the aging beast. Humphrey had been hers since she was five and she was nineteen now. It would be painful to leave him behind. She would just have to pray what Folermon said was right and she could take her only friend.

Humphrey leapt into her arms, purring.

“I love you too,” she said, burying her face into his long, warm fur.

Avalee smiled at her friend, petting, and snuggling him close. In only a few days, she would be a different person with a different name. At this point, she could only pray her husband would be a decent man.

“Lady Avalee,” Bella called, “can we swing yet?”

“In a moment,” Avalee replied, trying to keep the annoyance from her voice. “I just need to tie the swing to the hook.”

It took her three days to build the swing set the children begged her for. In the past year, she had made them an obstacle course with a slide and a teeter-totter. The slide was, by far, her favorite piece of work, carved out of a single tree trunk, sanded and lacquered.

Avalee put the rope through the metal hook, tying it all together. Six sets of eyes eagerly awaited her consent to play on their new toy. It took her a while to get the blacksmith to make the metal hooks, and it took her a while longer to get the wood cut down to size, even with the help of her father’s magic stone.

The muscles in her arms burned to quit, but this was the last swing. Then the kids would leave her alone. Avalee looked at all the eager faces. She was going to miss them when she married and left. Hopefully, at her new home, there would be more children to make toys for.

“Lady Avalee?” Bella asked.

Avalee smiled at the adorable but impatient little one. “Yes, Bella?”

The girl pointed to the road. “Who are those men?”

“Yeah, they look nothing like us,” a boy chipped in.

“What are they doing here, Lady Avalee?” another girl asked.

Avalee stooped down to their level, gazing at each face endearingly. Taking a deep breath, she began, “They are Meerdoran men from Hernan Castle, way off in the north. And just because they look nothing like us doesn’t mean we have to be afraid. It doesn’t mean they are evil and it doesn’t mean we have to be unkind. As for the last question,” she paused, looking at their questioning faces. Sadness crept over her. She held Bella’s hand as she said, “they are here because I am marrying one of them.”

“Why?”

“Because, Bobbert, the king asked me to.”

“You mean ordered?”

“No, I mean asked.”

“Oh,” the other young girl replied, “so, the king asked and you said yes?”

“Yes.”

With the final definite and firm answer, they stopped asking her questions and turned their attention to the six-seater swing set. She watched them play, savoring their enjoyment on what would be the last structure she would ever make here in Swanshé.

A clatter of hooves trumpeted through the small valley around the castle as the Meerdorans approached the castle gate. The men rode tall in the saddle with wagons of supplies rolling behind. They ignored her, much to her relief. Avalee walked back to the obstacle course, sat down on a stump and pulled out her whittling knife.

She was nervous. If it weren’t for her people being in dire need of help, she would never have agreed to this marriage. But the children were hungry, and so was she. She was no hunter. She couldn’t kill an animal, only carve a wooden one.

Avalee sighed. Today or tomorrow, her life would change forever. And she knew she wouldn’t like it. She would have to obey her husband in everything. In many ways, she was spoiled with the freedom she now realized she took for granted.

What if he doesn’t like me? she wondered with a frown on her brow. What if he takes the things away from me I love the most?

She didn’t know how she would handle it, if it came down to it. If she lost not only her father, her king, Humphrey, and her carpentry, would she still know who she was? Would she still be her?

Humphrey came over to her, a dead mouse in his teeth. He laid it at her feet before jumping into her lap. Avalee wrapped her arms around him as he curled into her lap for a nap. She began whittling away. The soft sounds of the wood curling, falling in shavings at her feet, lulled the cat to sleep. Avalee kissed his head.

The shape of a horse began to form in her hand. She had carved so many of them over the years that making them appear was as second nature to her as breathing. The wind picked up, causing the shavings to whirl around her feet. Her skin prickled at the cool breeze.

“Lady Avalee,” a man’s voice boomed.

His rough and hard accent started her. She jumped. Peeking over her shoulder, she gazed at the man with stern brown eyes. Rising to her feet, she tucked Humphrey in one arm and the knife clutched in the other. “Yes?”

“Yer presence is required by yer king,” said the man nearly triple her petite size. He wore a skirt of all things. His long hair was done in braids at either side of his head, and his hair was just as long as his beard. In all, he was a frightening specimen of a man, with rippling muscles and a deep voice. If her husband was anything like the man approaching her, she was certain she would be hiding from him most of the time.

Humphrey cried irritably and leapt out of her arms. Avalee headed toward the castle. She walked under the portcullis, past the thick stone walls, and entered the keep. She knew exactly where she was going, for she had been to the king’s solar often enough.

Folermon’s solar was tucked away in a small secluded spot where it was nice and quiet. Just what she liked. The same interestingly dressed men stood outside the door, but they stepped aside to let her in.

She kept her face impassive as she walked past them, studying them in a quick glance. The men wore braids at the sides of their heads. But even more peculiar, these men didn’t wear trews but some sort of knee-length skirts in red and black plaid. They all wore tall leather boots as well. It was all very peculiar, and she wondered if they ever got cold wearing women’s garments with boots.

Avalee gingerly opened the door to see two men sitting in chairs with their backs to her. One had dark graying hair peppered with white and black. The other had a long dark brown braid starting at the scalp and descending the back of his head like a woman’s.

She kept to the shadows, waiting to be addressed by her king. Folermon saw her come and inclined his head to her. Avalee fidgeted, straightening her plain blue dress and pulling down the hems of her sleeves.

“Now,” the older man said as he stretched himself up in his seat. “What is this lass like? Is she quiet, talkative, rude, bold?”

“Nothing like that,” Folermon replied. “She is quiet and shy, at first. She doesn’t say much, but she is perceptive and smart.”

“What skills does the lassie have?” asked the younger man.

“She is an excellent carpenter.”

“A carpenter? And a woman?” the younger snorted. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“You’re talking about my daughter, my goddaughter and adopted heir,” the king barked. “She is a wonderful, kind person. She may be a tad taciturn, but she has the most giving, loving heart I have ever seen in anyone. You are gaining a huge asset while I am losing twice over, as she is my daughter and a craftswoman.”

“When will we get to meet the lass?” the older man asked.

“Laird Kent Hernan, Justin, meet Avalee.” Folermon motioned for her to come forward.

Nervously, she came toward the man who claimed her as his own. She stood rigidly by the burning fireplace; her cheeks heated with embarrassment. She yearned to run and hide. She shifted the objects in her hands, trying to put them behind her, but the older man caught her.

“Yer a bonnie wee thing,” the Meerdoran king said.

“Yes, she is,” Folermon replied. “Takes after her mother.”

Avalee smiled.

“What d’ye have there, lass?” Laird Kent asked, his hazel eyes on hers.

Avalee held it out for him to inspect while his son snorted.

“What’s it supposed to be, lass?”

“A horse, my king,” she said.

“Is it finished?”

“No, my king.”

“D’ye like wood-working, lass?”

“Yes, my king,” she responded, still looking at the floor.

“Yer right, Folermon—she’s a shy wee lass.”

“Yes, she is, but like I said, she has a good heart.”

“Tell me a list of all the pieces ye’ve made,” Laird Kent requested.

Avalee gulped. There were so many pieces she had made over the years, almost too many to count. She wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to this man. He seemed nice. He had this charming grandfatherly air about him. His hazel eyes shone with mirth and gentleness.

The son, her intended, was cold and aloof. He didn’t seem interested in her at all. The man sat rigidly in his chair, arms crossed, a leg over his knee, his skirt up to the middle of his hairy thigh, not even acknowledging her existence.

“Well, I made a playground for the children, this desk, the sculpture on the wall, and the one on the desk,” she said.

Laird Kent walked over to the wall, assessing her craftsmanship and her detail. He remarked about her imaginative skill and execution. Avalee blushed. Praise was something she was never much used to. Her father remarked on what she could have done better to increase her skill. This praise felt nice but also uncomfortable.

“Avalee,” the Hernan king began, “yer very talented, and I would love for ye to make me something. I’m a jealous man.”

Avalee smiled and dipped her head saying, “Thank you, my king.”

“Please, call me Kent. We will be family soon, as ye will be marrying my youngest son, Justin.”

Avalee nodded then bowed.

Kent smiled. “Och, Avalee, is there anything ye wish to ask me? I know there must be something yer wee heart wants.”

She looked at him, considering the offer over in her mind. “May I please bring my cat, Humphrey and my tools?”

Kent laughed, “Aye, lass. Anythin’ else?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ye sure?”

Avalee nodded and looked down at her feet.

“So, ye like cats?” Justin asked, his amber eyes on her now.

“I do, my lord.”

“My lord?” Justin scoffed. “Why d’ye call me so?”

Avalee looked at him, confused. “You have not given me permission to call you otherwise, and proper respect must be shown.”

Kent‘s booming laugh echoed in the small room. Avalee’s cheeks flamed. Laird Kent seemed kind. She could only cross her fingers and pray the rest of the Hernan people were just as kind because it was clear to her Justin wasn’t.

“Daughter,” Folermon said, “why don’t you show Laird Hernan and his son your workshop?”

“Sounds good to me, Folermon,” Kent spoke up. “But first, I would like to inspect this playground she mentioned.”

Folermon walked over to the door. “Shall we, then?”

Laird Kent went out the door first, followed by Folermon, Avalee, and then her husband to be. Justin didn’t take her elbow or place his hand on the small of her back. Instead, he walked away from her, like she was plagued.

What was it about her that he found so unappealing? Was it because she was a carpenter? Was her hair too blonde or her eyes too green? Was it because he hoped she would be more attractive? Perhaps he preferred a more outgoing bride.

Avalee frowned. The rest of the men from Hernan followed behind them. It reminded her of a herd of cows she once saw invading a Corwaithian shrine in a nearby meadow. She didn’t like it. It took everything in her to not dash away and find a quiet place.

They arrived much too quickly at the playground. Half of the castle’s children were happily playing on everything she had made. Thankfully, the kids ignored the adults. Kent walked around each piece, climbing on it, testing it. Avalee was able to sneak out of the group to sit down with her whittling knife and half-finished piece of wood.

The men continued to ignore her for about an hour as they discussed what she had made and tested it all out. Anyone else would have found it amusing to see grown men go down a slide, but she didn’t care. She was busy, trying to finish this last horse she would ever carve in Swanshé. This carving would be for little Penny, the latest child to lose both her parents.

“Milady?” a small voice said.

“Yes, Bella?”

“Are you really going to be leaving us?”

“Yes.”

“Will you ever come back?”

Avalee took the girl and set Bella on her lap. “Maybe someday.”

“I will miss you,” Bella cried, hugging her neck.

Avalee hugged her back, “I will miss you too, sweet girl. Do you know where Penny is?”

“Yes, she is on the swing.”

“Have her come here, please.”

In the hour she had been here, she had finished the horse, sanded it smooth, and added some detail. She knew a girl like Penny would never play with it. The little one would more than likely keep it somewhere safe. She would treasure it.

Avalee glanced up to find Justin scowling at her as the two kings chatted. What is his problem? she wondered. He seems to be as disinterested in this alliance as I am—maybe even more so.

Penny came bounding up with Humphrey dangling in her arms. It was the first time in a while since Avalee had seen the little one smile. Penny put her cat down. Humphrey scampered off, tail high and bounding away. Avalee held out the horse for the girl to see what she had made. Penny looked confused until Avalee placed it in her small hands, and the child took it with glee.

Penny was a quiet child. Where other children would laugh, interact and play, Penny liked to watch. With tears and glee mingling on her small dirty face, the girl threw herself into Avalee’s arms. Avalee caught the crying girl, holding her close, rocking her while singing a lullaby.

It was the first time she had sang to anyone other than to herself in the workshop. Penny calmed down after a bit, still clinging to her. Avalee just sat and sang, stroking the little girl’s curly black locks.

“Is she all right, Avalee?” Folermon asked.

“Yes, Folermon.”

“Well then, let us go see your workshop.”

Avalee nodded. She got up with the little one still wrapped in her arms. Whenever the girl would fuss, Avalee hummed a tune. Instantly, the little one calmed down and snuggled closer to her body.

When they arrived at her workshop, she shifted the weight of the girl to get the key out of her pocket to open the door. A Meerdoran man tried to come assist by taking Penny, but she clung all the harder, almost knocking Avalee off her feet. Finally, she got the key out and clicked the lock open.

The men opened the door to reveal a long building with three different workbenches and three different projects on them all. Assorted nails in different jars lined the table on the back wall. Chisels, saws, hammers—everything was neatly organized.

The Meerdoran men walked around in awe. Kent’s mouth was open as he took in everything. Justin stood off to the side, completely disinterested in her slice of heaven. Laird Kent picked up tools, looking at each one.

Avalee walked over to a cushioned chair and settled the sleeping girl in it, the horse still clutched in the child’s small hands. Avalee covered her up with a blanket hanging on the back of the chair. Humphrey came scurrying up and snuggled on top of the blanket with Penny. When Avalee was done, she looked over at the group of men. Their faces seemed to have softened.

At first, they had looked at her with indifference. Now, they looked at her with respect for what she could do as a craftswoman.

“What are ye making on this bench, Avalee?” Kent asked her.

She walked over to the very far left bench in her shop. “A crib for a baby who was supposed to be born.”

“Did the bairn die?”

She wondered at that amusing word for a baby. “Aye, my king, the mother died carrying the babe. Neither of them could be saved.”

Kent’s face fell. “Very sorry to hear,” he paused. “What’s on this second bench?”

“The last piece of a round table.”

“Will ye show me?”

Avalee smiled. “I need to finish building it today. You’re welcome to stay and watch.”

“Whom is it for?”

She shrugged. “I just wanted to see if I could make one.”

Kent smiled and slapped the bench. “I shall pay ye for it.”

Avalee smiled and looked down at her feet, shaking her head. “Consider it a gift, my king.”

Kent hugged her. “This is the finest lass, I swear to Corwaithe!”

“Will ye need help putting it together, lass?” a man asked.

“I might . . .” she paused, waiting for a name.

“Nolan.”

“Thank you for your help then, Nolan.”

Avalee walked over to where the entrance was, grabbing a smock off the peg to keep the dust off her clothes. She paused to smile at the sleeping child. She would have loved nothing more than to take Penny with her, but she knew it was out of the question.

Avalee walked over to the corner where she had the carved clawfoot for the table covered and stashed away. This piece had taken her a month to complete. She carved graceful animals with long noses, flat tails, and angular fins on their backs, leaping out of the water. Porpoises were her favorite animal and represented the strength she saw in this table.

Avalee hefted the giant clawfoot in her slender but powerful arms. Carefully, she walked over to her workbench and set it down. She moved the other workbenches out of the way in order to give herself the room she needed.

She removed the cloth on the workbench revealing five other long pieces of rounded wood, formed, sanded, carved, and sealed in such a way that made the table top smooth, allowing the detail to shine through. Each piece was beautiful and different, but together would form a table that would celebrate her homeland.

The first piece she made depicted boats and waves. The second featured crabs and lobsters. Next was shells and fish. Another piece showed whales. The next piece she carved into seals. And the last piece, which she only finished the day before, brought all of those images together on a single seascape.

She was proud of this project. Before she started, her father told her it would be nearly impossible to get all six pieces to fit perfectly together since they were all made separately and differently; not only that, but she used six diverse types of wood found near her home. And the task had been tricky. It took her months to complete, but now it was ready. She had wanted to give the table to Folermon as a present at the birth of his child but seeing as how it wasn’t meant to be, she had to let that idea go. She didn’t want to grieve her king more than he already was.

“Ye made this, Avalee?” Kent asked, gawking at the pieces.

Avalee nodded, touching the dark redwood surface.

“It is absolutely amazing!”

Avalee smiled. She didn’t care for praise. It made her feel awkward. Her father never openly praised her work. He would criticize or make remarks about what she could do differently. If she did something pleasing, he would squeeze her shoulder then walk away.

Kent, however, was in awe. His face glowed brightly and he rubbed together his hands. “I have truly gained one of a kind,” he remarked.

The top of the clawfoot table was of three porpoises leaping out of splashing water. Each splash was a long, heavy piece of wood branching out to hold each piece of the tabletop more firmly in place after she nailed it together and sealed the holes closed with paste and lacquer. In the center was a circle with waves, so she could nail the tips of the rounded parts to it.

This clawfoot table was more than likely her most artistic project yet. The base was thick all the way through to handle the intricately carved tabletop. She made it out of a fallen oak tree, and the base was the tree trunk itself.

“How d’ye plan on getting this big piece out of the shop?” Justin asked.

“It is a surprise, my lord.”

“It’s Justin, all right?” he snapped.

“Yes, Justin,” she replied meekly.

Kent growled, “Is that truly how yer going to speak to yer future wife?”

The prince sighed. “Yer very talented,” he bit out.

“Thank you, Justin.”

I’m doing this for the children, she reminded herself as she looked at her fiancé. Clearly, she was going to have trouble with this man. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that he found so unappealing. She had never felt so unsure of herself.

Most people found her beautiful or something to the degree. Skilled but overly quiet. Pleasant but shy. So, they tended to stay away or keep the conversation brief. But Justin seemed to avoid her completely. Even now, he sat in the chair next to Penny, foot twitching as if he couldn’t wait to leave.

Very odd, she thought to herself. Even his skin is clear of the scars and wounds these other men have. And he spends more time watching the other Meerdorans than he does me. Perhaps he enjoys the company of his Meerdoran friends more than his Swanshen bride?

Avalee shook her head. She needed to focus on her table and not on this peculiar man. She began to work quietly, laying out the big rounded pieces on the table to see which ones fit together and which she would have to either sand or seal together a bit. Six men stood around her workbench, admiring the table as it came together.

She smiled as she worked, completely ignoring all of them, humming a tune. Slowly, the table came into formation. Once Avalee got one piece in, she carefully nailed it together, then sealed each piece with all the nails in place. Not only did she nail the top but she also nailed the sides to hold the wood together tightly. It took her just under three hours to complete. She wanted it to be just right.

Finally, as the afternoon sun poured in through an open window, she stopped to look at her finished work. Avalee wiped the table down with a polishing rag until it shone; until she could see her face in the lacquer.

Humphrey began winding his body all around her legs.

Avalee bent down to pick up the old orange cat. “All done, boy. What do you think?”

Humphrey mewed.

“Amazing, Avalee, absolutely breathtaking.”

She turned toward Folermon, “Thank you, my king.”

Folermon took her hand in his. “Your father would have been proud.”

Her brows furrowed. She tilted her head to the side, wondering if she had heard correctly. What? No! Avalee’s jaw dropped then snapped shut. She shook her head.

“I’m so sorry, Avalee,” Folermon said embracing her.

Guilt swarmed her. While she was in here playing with wood, carving things out of fallen trees and stupid sticks, she missed the last chance she could have had to be with her father.

She took a step back from the table, tears forming on her long lashes. She shook her head. The room spun. Avalee looked back at the table she once beheld as her greatest pride, now seeing it as nothing but kindling. She ran out of the shop as fast as her legs could go.

The wind whipped around her as she bolted to her home. Folermon’s men were coming down the steps with a body folded in a black blanket on a stretcher between them. In an instant, she collapsed to the ground, motionless, speechless. Staring in teary-eyed shock at the cold corpse of her father.

The men carried her father back to the castle, and she trailed behind them in stupefied shock. Since her father was also the king’s very best friend, he would get a beautiful send off. The men set her father’s body down on a table in an empty room. They backed away to give her a moment, a last and final moment, with her father. Avalee shivered as she looked at the blanketed figure. Numbness overcame her. With shaky hands and choking sobs, she peeled back the cloth covering Luchak’s face.

He looked peaceful, a small smile creasing his faint blue lips. Someone even took the liberty of closing his eyes, so at least he hadn’t died alone. It only brought Avalee a little comfort knowing this.

“I’m so sorry, Papa,” she whispered with tears streaming down her face. “I wasn’t there when you needed me. I wasn’t there for Mum either. I’m so very sorry, Papa. I wish you would come back.”

Avalee laid her head down on her father’s chest and cried. She closed out the world, the sounds and sights around her. She didn’t want to face the people around her or what was to come next – her father’s funeral pyre.

She clenched her eyes shut, blocking out it all.

“Avalee,” Folermon murmured, bending down to her, “it is almost night.”

Avalee looked up, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. “Yes, my king.”

Folermon embraced her, and for once, she did not hesitate to embrace him back. She breathed out raggedly and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, sobbing.

She could hear people around her, dressing her dead father in honorary clothing. Once upon a time, Luchak saved Folermon from an enemy arrow. Ever since then, they were the best of friends. Now, as she lost her father and her godfather lost his best friend, together they mourned as equals.

Folermon brushed her hair out of her face, his gray eyes watering. “Avalee,” he began, “I was with your father. I was telling him all about your table, how you crafted it and what it looked like. Do you know what he said?” he asked, wiping away her tears.

Avalee stood back, wiping her eyes, shaking her head.

He smiled sadly but fondly. “I always knew she would surpass me. My meek little dove has finally soared. I’m so very proud of her.”

She smiled and choked back her tears in her dry throat.

“He didn’t want you to see him like that, Avalee. He knew you loved him very much. Do not feel guilty about not being there. As your father always said, ‘Work until you’re proud of what you’ve done.’”

“I’m sorry for yer loss, Avalee,” Kent said coming up to her, placing a rough, wrinkled hand on her back. “Folermon said he was quite the gifted man. I’m sure he will be greatly missed.”

“Thank you, my king,” she replied.

“Kent, lass, my name is Kent.”

She nodded.

“Shall we go see your father off?” Folermon asked with watery eyes.

Avalee nodded.

The sun was about to set itself down beyond the sea. Against the water, the last gleaming tendrils of light looked like melted gold. Even the heavens burned with color, and that color was rapidly changing to the dark blue and purple of the night.

Two Meerdoran men stepped forward to carry the body of her father to the pyre platform. Two other Swanshé men would be joining her father on the pyre this night. It pained her so greatly to walk behind the men carrying her father. She felt numb inside. Her face was set. She was done crying. It wouldn’t ever bring him back.

Avalee sighed, walking behind the men. She found it odd her husband-to-be did not come over and console her. He stood off in the distance brooding and unapproachable, his head down and arms crossed. His hair was still braided down the back of his head. His clothes were clean and crisp unlike those of his other clan members—even his father, the king. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure this man out.

She had once heard her father compare marriage to crafting a boat. That it takes time, patience, and learning how to deal with the unexpected. At first, she had no idea what he meant, but now she understood.

It was going to take a while for Justin to even get used to her and get to know her. After all, they had just met this morning. But part of her wondered if he could truly be this indifferent to her.

Perhaps she needed to be patient with him. Perhaps he too, was nervous about the idea of matrimony. Avalee left the group to go over to him, to see what he was like. For her father, she had to try.

They walked in silence together for a bit. Avalee didn’t know what to say or ask him. Usually, she wasn’t the first person to say anything, but he had only been rude to her in front of others. Could he be different alone?

“What is your homeland like?” she ventured to ask.

“Nothing like this barren wasteland.”

What could she say to that? He was so hostile. She didn’t know what she had done to offend him, but she had to try to make this future marriage work. For her people, she had to try.

“In what ways is it different from here?” she prodded a little.

Justin laughed, his brown eyes flashing. “Lass,” he began, “Meerdoran culture, fashion, and knowledge are centuries ahead of this backwoods excuse for a clan.”

Avalee stopped dead in her tracks. She didn’t like him. She didn’t like him one bit and would honestly prefer being married to a duck. But alas she was to be married to him. She had to marry him so her people could thrive again. It was the only way to get help and supplies. The plan would benefit everyone—well, almost everyone—and from the Meerdorans’ past history with the people of Swanshé, her clan knew the Meerdorans could be trusted.

But there was something different about Justin Hernan of Meerdora. She couldn’t stick her finger on it, but something in her gut told her this man would bring unbridled conflict into her life and her new clan.

Avalee looked to the stars, to Corwaithe, for answers and guidance. But even the night sky was murky and dim. She wondered if Corwaithe was grieving for her father, for her people, and the lives lost. Or was this darkness a portent of the future for her?

Before she knew it, she arrived at the pyre as Folermon came around with the torch to light it and send his three clansmen off to Corwaithe. She couldn’t look at her father’s body. Instead, she stared at the heavens. Hoping for an answer, but knowing it would never come. Corwaithe would only come if something affected the lives of the majority of her peoples, and this wasn’t it. Or as she heard once: Corwaithe weaves herself into the tapestry of history when she feels like it.

Avalee jumped when the song started. She was so lost in her thought she didn’t see Gabella come to the front to start the song.

So long to you, my dearest friend,

Though one day we will meet again,

On the heavens where we will walk,

Catching up on olden days.

So long to you, my dearest friend,

Too soon you were taken from this clan,

Your wisdom will not be forgotten,

For you made me a better man.

So long to you, my dearest friend,

At Corwaithe’s gate we shall meet

When my time too has run its course,

Upon the lit sky where splendid colors greet.

Good day to you, my dearest friend,

For we have rejoined together,

To shine down our wisdom upon our peoples,

By Corwaithe’s side forever.

All of the remaining Swanshens joined in at the end of the song, but she stayed silent. She was too worn, shattered, and fearful of what would happen next. She shivered but not from the cold. She was simply too overwhelmed by the situation to know how to confront it.

Avalee stood there, gazing at the heavens, waiting and waiting for Corwaithe to answer her. The heavens burst open spontaneously in Corwaithe’s bright pink like a deep crack in the earth. A misty silver hand reached down to the bodies upon the pyre. The hand pinched finger and thumb, pulling the essence of the people she created up to the heavens. With a brilliant flash of pink lightning, the sky went black again.

Avalee cried. Her father was now gone. His soul had been taken, accepted in the heavens of the Goddess. She looked at the fire, watching her father’s body burn and the disease he carried with him die.

The night sky shimmered softly with silver and pink as Corwaithe took the three Swanshen souls. Avalee silently begged the Goddess for guidance. Any message would somewhat ease her fears and confusion, but she heard nothing.

Corwaithe, please, she begged. Suddenly, a sense of peace washed over her. Her heart filled with joy, knowing her father was at rest, accepted into the heavens. The burial fires blazed against the night. Avalee started to head home, then halted when she saw the path leading to her workshop. She was at a loss.

Should I go home, to the place that once held happiness? Or to the workshop, the place that allows me to feel free? Meowing came to her ears. Avalee looked down to see Humphrey twirling between her legs.

“Hello, old boy,” she crooned.

Gingerly she picked him up, clutching him against her chest. She snuggled her face into his thick fur. She wanted to cry, to let her emotions take over, but she was too numb. Blankly, she turned toward home.

All of her childhood memories flooded her mind like a tidal wave. So many beloved moments came rushing back, churning together in a matter of seconds. Avalee went to her parents’ room. Everything was as they left it. She picked up Gloria’s wedding ring and Luchak’s favorite coat. It was all she would ever have left of them now, something that was truly theirs.

Heavy hearted, she closed the door to their room. With the click of the lock, their existence seemed terminated. Everything behind her was sealed. There was no going back to the consoling arms of her family. She tried to make it right with her heart but failed.

She packed a small trunk of clothes, dragging it on the front porch. Avalee sat on the bench on the front porch while the wind howled by, carrying the pungent smell of burning flesh. She wiped away her tears and stared at the moon. How long she sat there crying, she didn’t know. But at this moment, she felt a little bit closer to her parents and to Corwaithe. Even though the divine Goddess didn’t answer her prayers, she knew they did not go unheard. Corwaithe was here, watching.

I can do this, she told herself. I can do this, even though it is hard, scary, and overwhelming. I’m not alone for She walks beside me.

Avalee dried her eyes and headed to her workshop. It would be the place she knew Folermon or Kent would come to find her. And she would be waiting, prepared and unafraid.

Avalee glided around the shop, opening doors and lighting candles, preparing everything for her departure. There wasn’t much to pack. She did need to clean her tools. Her father always taught her to clean the tools she used before packing them away. Avalee sat on a stool, cleaning everything with a rag before packing it all in a crate stuffed with straw.

The night ebbed away. Absentmindedly, Avalee hummed all the tunes her mother taught her. Gloria tried to encourage her to sing, but she never did. Looking back, she wished she had sung them with her mother, instead of only listening to her mother’s melodic voice.

Humphrey came wandering in at some point. Her old cat stretched himself out in the cushioned chair in the corner. At least the kind king of Hernan was allowing her to bring her pet.

“I see ye canna sleep either, lass,” a voice echoed from the doorway.

Avalee popped her head up. “My apologies, my king, I,” she paused, “I cannot find it in myself to sleep. I’m too upset, so I decided to prepare my tools for our impending travels.”

“I understand and I will not force ye to sleep either.”

Laird Kent approached her workbench where she sat packing her chisels into the crate. “I was hoping to ask ye somethin’, lass.”

“Yes, my king?”

“Justin is a good man, although sometimes more oft, he isn’t all there in the head.” He looked at her seriously. “This will not bother ye, aye?”

Avalee looked at the older man, stunned. What does he mean exactly? Is Justin crazy? Cruel? She didn’t know but did not want to find out. Yet this was the man she must marry.

“No, my king, it will not bother me,” she answered, not knowing what else to reply.

Kent clapped his hands then folded them behind his back. “I know ye were a good lass. Yer too good for my youngest son. Ye should be marrying my eldest, Graham, but he’s gone on some journey.” Kent snorted and shook his graying head. “He’s looking for the truly perfect woman, ever since Cindi, another lass from Swanshé, rejected him.” The king paused, picking up a tool, inspecting it. “Good thing too. My son is much too good for that wicked wench,” he sighed, setting the tool down and gazed at another. “Ye and Graham would have been good together.”

She could read the hurt in his eyes. It made her wonder all the more about Justin. Was he just different—or did it go deeper than that? And why did Graham have to leave on this journey now, forcing her to wed herself to this baffling younger brother?

“I’m sorry about Graham disappearing on you, my king,” she said after a long silence.

“Kent, please lass,” Kent squeezed her shoulder. “And thank ye, Avalee. Finish up and be off to the castle with ye.”

Avalee nodded. “Kent, may I get some help to get the table loaded for you?”

“I will send men down to load it on a wagon since yer here for a wee bit longer.”

Avalee nodded again, then went over to unlatch the rolling doors she and her father constructed. Her father had a female blacksmith from Grewind make metal balls, all the same size. Then she and her father created two wooden doors on tracks that could slide back and forth along the balls. Kent watched her intently as she unlocked the metal bindings and rolled the door to the side, opening wide enough to get the table out without taking it apart.

Kent’s hazel eyes sparkled with admiration. “Avalee, yer a keen lass,” he praised.

She bowed her head. “Thank you, Kent.”

Kent then left her to packing, and she was grateful for the solitude. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t have it. She would have to talk to her husband, get to know him, and maybe she wouldn’t even have time to create the things she loved.

Avalee perched herself back on her stool, cleaning the hammers and saws. All her tools fit neatly into three crates while the bigger tools would have to get packed into the bed of the wagon.

Soon enough, as Kent said, men came to wrap her table in a blanket and load it onto a wagon. They lifted the table like it was nothing and quickly tied it down. Then the men loaded her clothing trunk from her home and two of her workbenches, telling her they could always get her more if needed. She spoke not a word, except to express her gratitude for their help and kindness.

In mere moments, her whole life was packed into the back of the wagon. Two workbenches, three crates of tools, a table, and her trunk. Her whole life, her whole simple world, reduced to a few items and a cat.

“Milady,” one man said, “d’ye wish to take anything else?”

Her brows knitted together as she looked about the room. “Unless there is use for those unfinished projects, there is naught else, but I appreciate you asking me.”

“What did ye make?” he asked her.

“A crib, and on the other bench I have pieces for a chair.”

“Aye, we can take it all with us.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“Dorvald,” he smiled, “My name’s Dorvald, milady.”

“Please call me Avalee then,” she said, smiling at him and all the other Meerdorans. “All of you, please. And thank you for your help and your kindness to me. I appreciate it deeply.”

They smiled brightly back at her. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. They’re just being nice, she reminded herself. It’s all right. Avalee picked up her old cat, clutching the animal against her chest.

She turned to look back at the workshop her father had made. She stared at it as memories flooded in soft waves through her mind. She didn’t know how long she stood there, gazing at the workshop. This place had been Luchak’s livelihood and her childhood. And this would be the last time she would ever behold it. Her eyes started to mist over again, but she steeled herself. The others were watching, and they’d already seen enough of her tears.

“Milady, ye look about ready to faint.” Nolan came over, taking her hand in his.

“It’s been quite a day,” she replied.

“Mayhap ye should get some rest,” he told her. “I will escort ye back to the castle.”

But she wouldn’t move. She couldn’t. This was the workshop her father had made from the ground up with his two calloused hands. For the last time, Avalee studied the craftsmanship all the way down to the door with the wooden inscription: L & A Gorsella’s Woodworking. There was no way she would leave it behind.

Avalee set Humphrey down and went back to the wagon. Taking out a small hammer and a chisel, she wiggled the chisel under one of the metal pins on the door, striking it with the hammer to loosen it. The men watched as she worked to free the engraved door.

Soon two of the three pins loosened. As she got started on the final pin, she choked down a sob. She didn’t want to go, to get married, to leave this place of comfort. But she had to leave, and by Corwaithe, she was taking the door with her.

Avalee wiped the tears from her eyes, right before the door came off its hinges. “Excuse me,” she called out to the line of men standing against the wagon, “could one of you please load this as well?”

Nolan and Dorvald came over to take the door. She didn’t like their pitying looks. This was, after all, her choice. She knew what was being asked of her, and she could have said no, but she didn’t. She would fulfill her father’s final wishes—for her people and their needs as well. This was all so much bigger than her. There was no escaping her fate. Rather, she would find a way to embrace this new path.

After all, her parents did not raise a coward. They raised a woman strong enough to excel in a craft where most would shun her. She was stronger than all of this. She just had to search a little deeper within herself to find the key and hold on to it.

Avalee looked to the pinkening sky. Shielding her eyes with her hands, she gazed on what would be the second to last Swanshen sunrise she would see for a very long time. The heat of the crisp morning sun tickled her skin. Avalee drew in a deep breath, then looked over her shoulder at the men waiting for her.

“I’m not one for many words, gentlemen. However, I admit I’m scared of what’s to come, and I’m trying to be brave. So, thank you for your patience in dealing with me and my emotions,” she told them all.

“Och, lassie,” Dorvald said, “we understand ye. And ye have yer work cut out for ye with Justin. And as yer soon to be our clanswoman, know we’re here for ye, in whatever ye need, lass.”

Avalee smiled. “Thank you all.”

Nolan approached her, offering his arm again. “Ye best be off to bed, milady. Yer getting married tonight.”

Avalee nodded. “Thank you again for loading my possessions.”

The men accepted her thanks, and Nolan guided her back to the castle. But she pulled him in a different direction. She walked with him to the cliffs—exactly where she stood yesterday morning, and every morning before. Her footsteps had worn a path through the coarse grasses.

Avalee watched the porpoises leap out of the water and the seals bark on the rocks. She sat down in the tall, dry, crunchy grass, breathing in the sharp sea air. The fishermen below yelled orders to their men, getting ready to set out to sea to catch whatever they could.

The breeze picked up, lashing around Avalee’s dress, spilling her honey hair from its braid. The heat of the sun filled her with hope and happiness. Sea birds called out, following the boats out to deep waters as porpoises leaped around them.

“It’s very bonnie here,” Nolan said, standing behind her.

Avalee nodded.

“How come ye dinna say much, lass?”

She looked thoughtfully at him. “People will either like you or hate you for what comes out of your mouth, whether or not you speak honesty or lies. But if you’re silent, people think it’s strange and often speak freely around you,” she finished with a smile, then faced the ocean.

“It doesn’t tell me much as to why ye dinna speak, lass.”

Avalee thought she’d given a sufficient explanation, but she added, “I have always been observant and quiet. I don’t like speaking.”

“Ye dinna like it?”

“You learn more about people and what is happening when you are silent.”

Nolan didn’t say anything else. He came over, sitting down beside her but leaving a respectful space between them. Avalee hugged her knees to her chest, watching the waves crash. She didn’t want to go back to the castle to fall asleep, only to wake up and be married.

She had a feeling in her gut this Meerdoran prince was cruel. Her head tried to reason with her that she was being overly judgmental, which wasn’t who she was at all. Still, the same feeling kept creeping back—he was something sinister tangled in a spider’s web of his own making.

The morning sky disappeared to the bright blue of the day. Avalee got up, dusted herself off and made her way to the castle. Nolan followed, offering his elbow, which she courteously took.

He delivered her to the doors of the castle and bid her a good sleep. Then he turned to go do whatever those men did in the morning. Avalee let out a breath and opened the doors. Later tonight, she would no longer be Avalee Gorsella.

She awoke to a knocking on her door. With a start, Avalee scrambled out of bed. She peeked outside to see the sun wane past midafternoon. Her marriage was upon her. Groggily she rubbed her eyes, and answered the door.

Folermon stood in front of her with a folded piece of clothing in his hands. She stared at it with a questioning look. He cleared his throat but stood staring at the folded thing in his hands.

“It was my wife’s,” he began. “She wore it on the day of our wedding.”

Avalee looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

Folermon squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you,” he replied, then handed her the dress. “She was your size when we married. She would have wanted you to wear it.” His gray eyes twinkled with tears.

Avalee curtseyed and took the gown. She promised to leave it behind for Warren, Folermon’s son, if he had a little girl. Warren was still very sickly, and it was unclear if he would recover. Folermon embraced her, and Avalee hugged him back tightly. She thought she would never need a hug more than she did now, but as he warned, her time was nearing. He left for her to prepare herself.

Avalee laid the dress out on the bed, smoothing it out. It was a cream-colored gown appearing almost greenish. Whatever color it was, it was pretty. Delicate lace trimmed the edges of the gown. Some of Swanshé’s famous pearls trimmed the collar around the neckline. The gown was more beautiful than she ever thought to wear. Matching slippers unfolded in their own little package inside the gown. Avalee set it to the side, admiring the dress Folermon allowed her to wear.

Serving women set up a bathtub, and once it was warm and ready, Avalee slipped inside while the women went to work scrubbing her hair and body. It was strange to Avalee that queens and ladies accepted the touch of strangers like this, but hopefully at her new clan, she could bathe in peace.

Once she was scrubbed, Avalee stood and dried off. A towel with blue-white fire swirling around the fabric lazily was wrapped around her head. The women helped get her into her gown. Next, they removed the towel and her hair was completely dry and beautifully coifed on her head.

One of the women smiled, remarking the towel was magicked and from the strange lands of Orthilio. Avalee thanked her and pulled the slippers onto her small feet.

“Avalee, it is time,” Folermon said from the other side of her door.

Avalee looked at herself in the polished mirror. She looked older, stressed, uncertain. She could see lines on the corner of her mouth forming. Her brow creasing together in hesitation.

“Avalee,” Folermon called again.

“Yes, my king,” she replied.

She took one last look in the mirror before heading toward the oaken door. Her palms were clammy. She wasn’t jittery with nerves, just slightly apprehensive of how her soon-to-be-husband would receive her. Avalee wanted him to at least like her, but it seemed an unrealistic wish.

Avalee opened the door to an ashen-faced king. He looked forlorn. Almost pitying. Avalee took the crook of his arm and gave it a squeeze.

“You don’t have to do this, Avalee. I know you gave your word, but you don’t have to. We can find a way out of this,” Folermon told her as they descended the stairs together.

Avalee nodded. She was resolute. She was doing this for her people, for now there were so few of them. They needed to be taken care of. As for her father, his final wishes were she be married and provided for. This was now beyond her. Out of her power to control. Her path was set. All she needed to do was embrace the direction it went in, despite her feelings about it. Despite what she thought about Justin.

“Avalee, you don’t have to do this,” Folermon insisted. “Justin is not the man he seems. He is not kind. I don’t want you getting in over your head. I don’t want to see my goddaughter hurt.”

Avalee patted his hand and gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Yes, I do need to marry him. I need to honor my father. This is for our people. I cannot turn my back on them. They need this. And I can handle it.”

“But we can make do without it,” the king pleaded. “Just say no, Avalee.”

Avalee knew he was trying to protect her. Perhaps Folermon knew something about Justin she did not, and was trying to spare her. To give her a quiet way out. And she loved him for it, but she couldn’t deny her people to save herself. In the end, her people needed clothing and food, the two things she couldn’t provide for them. If her people needed a table or a house, she could make it. But she was not a hunter, nor a seamstress or healer. She was a carpenter.

“I must do this. And now, maybe Swanshé will have better relations with the Meerdoran people if one happens to be married to them.”

Folermon kissed her forehead. “Send word if you need anything. I will come.”

“I will,” she replied with a smile.

“All right,” he said sadly, as they continued down the stairs to the dining hall.

Avalee sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Together they rounded the corner to come into full view of the dining hall.

Already the Meerdoran men were drinking themselves under the tables. She honestly wondered how they functioned at all. Justin sat sulkily at the high table, one leg perched over the other, with three rings on each finger, eyes latched on another across the dining hall.

Avalee walked over to him and sat down in the chair to his left. His feet occupied the chair a wife ought to take on his right. Her back was straight as she sat in a vacant chair, hands in her lap, waiting to be acknowledged by her fiancé. She sat there for what seemed like a decent amount of time and still the man never spoke to her.

“How are you this evening, my lord?” she dared to ask.

He turned around to face her, a callous sneer on his face. “Dinna speak to me. We are to be married soon, but I dinna want to speak to ye yet.”

“Yes, my lord,” she murmured.

Justin turned around, shaking his head and grumbling about her. She wilted, wanting more than anything to disappear. But it was expected of her that she stay, alone in this chair, beside this man.

She watched the merriment going on around her. For once, she was envious of it all. There were plenty of times when she could have gone to a dance but instead chose to stay at the workshop finishing a project. Now she realized what her mother tried so hard to get her to do. Her mother wanted her to go have fun and meet people. To dance and be merry. How she wished her mother were still here today.

A light meal was served as this celebration which would likely go on until early morning. Avalee picked at her hard meat and cheese, not wanting much of it at all. Justin continued to ignore her. Kent was well into his cups along with Folermon at the other end of the table.

She knew Justin was aloof from the moment she met him. She realized later he was also physically distant as well. But still, she tried to make the best of her situation. Now she understood the pitiable look Folermon gave her. What he meant when he said she didn’t have to do this. But it was all too late. She gave her word, and the supplies had been brought to her people.

Avalee sipped on her ale and choked on it. Being it was all that was offered, she didn’t have much of a choice if she was thirsty. A robed man entered the hall and walked straight for Folermon and the Meerdoran king. He spoke, gesturing to her and Justin. The kings quickly nodded and motioned for them to come.

Obediently, she rose from her chair, going toward the priest and the two kings. A long piece of parchment was on the table before them along with an ink bottle and two quills. Folermon gave her one last look to tell her that she didn’t have to do this. Without any more hesitation, she grabbed the ink quill and signed her name at the bottom of the page. Folermon closed his eyes gently.

Above her hung the giant hall mirror. She gazed at her reflection, noting how much she had changed in those few moments from the meek little girl who would hide in the workshop, to the unintentional martyr she had become.

I’m braver than I thought, she remarked to herself, turning to look at the men. I can do this. For my people. For the children. Being married to someone who dislikes me cannot be so terrible. He will more than likely leave me alone.

“Glad ye signed yer name so very fast,” Justin said sarcastically, his brown eyes muddying.

She turned on him, brows furrowed, bewildered at his unprecedented anger.

“Justin, dinna start. She’s a good woman. Maybe she will even bring ye around a bit,” Kent Hernan told his son.

Justin harrumphed, placing his hands on his hips. “She will no’ bring me around. I’m fine just how I am,” he said. “She should have married Graham.”

“Well, yer married to Avalee now, so ye better be kind to the lass. She doesn’t deserve yer,” Kent paused, “episodes.”

She wondered what it meant.

“Father,” Justin whined, “stop. She should have married Graham, why me?”

Kent sighed, a hand to his brow. “We have been over this, Justin. It’s good for both clans. Meerdora now has peace with Swanshé. We have gained a huge asset and these people have gained food and clothing. Everyone wins.”

“Not me. I dinna want her!”

“Sign yer name!” Kent bellowed.

Justin stomped his foot but did as he was told.

Kent put his hands up placatingly. “Be nice to the lass,” he said. “Priest, are we done here?”

The priest looked from Justin to Avalee, nostrils flaring. The robed man looked over the paperwork and the signatures. “We’re done here.”

Kent clapped Folermon on the back. “Justin, take yer wife out for a dance.”

Justin guffawed at the old man. “Nay, Father. Ye or someone else can. Being married to her and giving,” he twirled his hand, “this woman my last name is sufficient enough.” Justin spun on his heel and walked out the wide door of the dining hall.

“I’m sorry for his words, Avalee,” Kent told her.

“Thank you, my king,” she responded.

She didn’t dare look behind her. The room was silent, the merriment gone. Justin humiliated her in front of her people and his. Their eyes penetrated her back. Her cheeks flamed. She felt a hand brush her on her left arm and she flinched at the touch.

“Avalee,” Dorvald said softly, “care for a wee dance?”

“Go have fun,” Kent told her. “Justin will come around.”

I very much doubt it, she thought. Outwardly, she nodded to her new liege.

She let Dorvald lead her out onto the space cleared for dancing. He spun her around the smoothed stone floor. After a few dances with Dorvald, Nolan, a few others and finally Kent, twirled her around on the floor. Finally, after the last dance, she excused herself, going back up to her room.

She changed out of her wedding gown, folding it neatly and set it on the vanity for Folermon to find. Avalee pulled on her night dress and climbed into bed. Her husband wouldn’t be bothering her until tomorrow anyway. He wanted nothing to do with her.

This is going to be a hard marriage, she thought. I hope he comes around, and if not, then I hope he leaves me alone. Sure as the sun rises, I’m going to be leaving him alone!

The morning dawned bright and early. Avalee walked down the stone stairs and grabbed a piece of bread off the table. She made her way silently outside, going to the cliffs. Every morning she’d done this. Now she would have to find a different morning routine when she got to Hernan Castle.

She munched on the bread, making her way along the worn path. The sun tickled her skin, filling her with warmth. Avalee peeked at the sky, watching the gray clouds roll around, changing the blue sky to a cold shadow.

She sat on the cliff, gazing down at the ocean crashing against the rocks, wearing them down with time and persistence. And if the rocks didn’t wear down in time, they adapted to their surroundings, growing briny things on their surfaces or holding water in crevices.

She needed to be like the rocks on the beach—adaptable, stable, constant. Her marriage was in her control as well. And just because Justin was being cruel now didn’t mean he was going to be cruel in private too.

The sun sparkled on the water, glittering in the fresh new light of the day. The porpoises and seals were gone. The ocean was quiet except for the thundering waves. Fishermen were making their way groggily to their boats, getting ready to go out again after their night of revelry.

Avalee turned to look at the other side of the cliffs and ocean. A woman was walking down the beach, her black hair flowing freely as she bent down to pick up something from the sand. Avalee closed her eyes, remembering the touch of sand in the summer against her skin. How it all felt between her toes. How hot it surprisingly got. Her green eyes scanned the ocean, looking for anything she missed that she needed to remember.

“It is time for you to leave, Avalee,” Folermon said, coming up beside her.

Avalee got up quietly, dusting her dress. “Yes, King Folermon.”

“Avalee,” Folermon pulled her close, hugging his adopted daughter for the last time, “if you ever need anything, anything at all, just write or send word. I will be there for you. I will come.”

“Thank you.”

“Just be the sweet woman you are. They will love you.”

Avalee took his arm as he led her to the wagon holding her things. Humphrey, the good old cat, was in the wagon, curled up and waiting patiently for her on the bench. Justin mounted his prancing stallion, leading it through some steps as she approached. Her husband didn’t dismount as she walked up, but Nolan did and helped her into the wagon.

Folermon shook his head. Kent smiled regrettably in her direction. Nolan tied his horse to the back of the wagon, picking up the reins to the steers that were being used to pull the wagon back to Hernan Castle.

“Milady,” a little voice called out, “milady, please don’t leave me here! Please don’t leave!”

Avalee looked over the right side to see Penny trying to cling to the side of the wagon, her little arms barely reaching the top. Seeing the little girl so scared and alone broke her heart, for she felt exactly the same way.

Avalee reached down, holding the little girl’s hand. “Penny, I cannot take you with me.”

Penny started sobbing. “But you’re all I got left!”

Avalee looked at Nolan who turned the other way. She didn’t dare look at her husband who still had not acknowledged her presence. Kent came over, dismounted, looking down at the little girl who had her fists balled up against her eyes, crying. Her black hair hung in front of her face and stuck to her wet cheeks.

“Wee lass,” Kent cooed softly to the girl, “what’s yer name?”

Penny looked up at the towering man. Her brown eyes were wide and scared. She backed herself up against the wagon as far as she could go. Kent perked a gray eyebrow, waiting for her to respond.

“Her name is Penny, Laird Kent,” Avalee said. “She lost her parents to the plague.”

Kent turned toward his daughter-in-law. “And she wants to come with ye?”

Avalee nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Folermon came over, setting a hand on Penny to guide the small child away from the leaving cart.

“I will take her, Laird,” Nolan spoke up. “If it’s all right with ye, Laird Swanshé.”

Folermon lifted the child in behind Avalee. He tapped on the side only once, walking away with his head down. Avalee turned in her seat, watching him disappear from her life with her heart pounding as it broke in her chest. She felt her breath coming in short gasps.

Kent nodded his support. “She’s yer responsibility, Nolan.”

Avalee moved to the back as Penny clung to her. Kent whistled for everyone to start moving forward. Avalee looked around the town one last time, gazing at everything so she could put it to memory. As they came past her old house, the one she shared with her parents, she couldn’t help but turn in her seat and watch it disappear.

Penny rested her little head against Avalee’s body, her head bouncing as the wagon rattled along the road. Soon, the little girl was asleep. Avalee gently laid her down. She slipped around the back of the cart quietly as she could, rummaging through the provisions to find a blanket for Penny.

Gently, she roused the little girl, telling her to go lay down on the blanket. Penny nestled down on the quilt and Humphrey cuddled up in the crook of her arm.

“She really loves ye, aye?” Nolan asked her after she moved to the front of the wagon.

“Yes, Nolan. Penny is a good girl.”

Nolan’s brows furrowed, his eyes turning a darker blue. “She lost both her parents?”

“Yes. The plague took a lot of good people.”

“And how did ye come to know this lassie?”

“I was in charge of the children who’d lost their families,” she replied while looking at the sleeping girl. “At first there were only three, but after the plague, there became seventeen more. All those children…” she trailed off, shaking her head.

Nolan nodded. “I lost my wee girl a few years ago to a sickness that made small red spots burst out all over the body. Penny reminds me of her.”

“Is it why you said you would take her?”

“Aye,” Nolan said, dark blue eyes looking at her, “and nay. Justin would not have let ye take her. He would have said something or done something to ye for it. My wife, Tilla, and I will raise Penny as our own.”

Avalee smiled, thankful Penny would have a loving family to call her own. A mother and father both to take care of her and provide. It was better than the alternative back at Shona, which was no family at all and raised to work in the kitchen or some other area of the castle.

“She is a very observant girl, often mimicking what she sees done,” Avalee offered.

“Good. I hope she likes schooling then.”

“Schooling?”

“Aye, we have a schoolhouse for the children to learn the basics like numbers, writing, and reading.”

Avalee smiled brightly. “Penny is going to love it.”

Nolan rambled on about Hernan and what it was like. The castle was backed up against a crag overlooking the forest and a valley down below. Hernan Castle was small in comparison to ones like Earnswey or Rowanoake. As he talked, Avalee had no clue what he said half the time. He spoke so fast; his heavily accented voice made it for her to keep up.

Laird Kent rode at the front of their dismal party. Justin was behind his laird, chatting with Dorvald. Not once in their morning travels had any of them spoken to her besides Nolan. She figured he was only speaking to her because she sat beside him.

She liked it when Nolan spoke. It meant she didn’t have to talk about herself. He asked plenty of times if they needed to stop for her to rest or if she needed to relieve herself. His concern amused her as they were going so slowly, to her it seemed, it was practically resting.

That was a preview of Mitering Avalee. To read the rest purchase the book.

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