Year of Corwaithe 1245
They had been so close growing up but that seemed years ago now. What had changed between them, Nola didn’t exactly know, or when it had happened, but it had. And it hurt more than being left by the man she’d been set to marry. Claire was more than her sister. Claire was her best friend, her confidant, her everything; thicker than molasses and stronger than an oak, they had been inseparable since they were kids.
That was, until last week.
Nola wiped the tears from her eyes that bleared her vision. Her memories faded back to when she was nine and Claire was seven. Claire had brought home a lamb from the neighbors that was to be slaughtered. Mom and dad had told Claire to get rid of the pet, because it made their eldest sister Abigail upset. Nola had hidden it in their room for an entire day before their mom finally discovered it was the animal making sounds, not them. Claire had cried that her beloved lamb was to be taken back to the neighbor to be killed. Nola worked for two months straight for that lamb, so Claire could be happy.
Nola pounded back another shot of whisky. Her family was interesting to say the least. Mom and dad doted heavily upon the eldest, Abigail, constantly comparing both her and Claire to their snobby sister. And all she and Claire had were each other. They did everything together. Nola racked her fuzzy brain for anything she might have done to upset her younger sister so terribly.
She couldn’t think of a memory—each one she had was of them laughing and being together happily. Yet, what Claire had done burned more than Nola could ever express. Her sister had changed from being a vibrant, loving young lady to a greedy, spiteful woman. Nola blamed her parents for the changes as they were now all the same – greedy and manipulative.
Claire was a thief. Nola hadn’t thought her sister—her blood—would stoop so low. But Claire had. And the man she had ended up marrying was just as horrible. Wesley had promised Nola forever. He’d promised her a family, a loving marriage with a home out on the Swanshen coast. Wesley had promised to love her—only her—for forever, but he’d lied. The whole relationship was a giant deception, from the moment they’d met to their failed wedding.
On the day that was supposed to be the most memorable, happiest moments of Nola’s life, Wesley left her for Claire. In front of everyone who’d come, her sister and Wesley snuck away, leaving Nola waiting at the altar with the priest. The entire village spoke about how awful it was. Some even going as far as stating that there must be something wrong with her! Truly, Nola felt that way. For someone to do that, wouldn’t it mean she was horrid?
I truly must be something, she thought, the bar chair creaking underneath her.
Nola wanted to break free of this town, to see something new, to experience life to the fullest. But she was alone now. Her mother and father lived in Flowermoss. Claire was gone, taking the only man she’d ever loved with her. All Nola knew was this town.
Vamort Village was a hunting town on the outskirts of the Black Forest on the Swanshé side. Every man was either a hunter or a blacksmith. One man happened to be a horse master, but he was as strange and wild as the beasts he tamed. The men here already had wives. The ones who didn’t, happened not to glance in her direction.
“Nola,” the barkeep called.
Nola flicked a silver on the table top, paying for her pervious drinks and a few more. “Aye, keep them coming.”
Nola drowned her sorrows in the tavern. She sat in the same spot for the past week, drinking and crying intermittently. The only source of comfort was when the barkeep Lewis put whisky in her glass.
Lewis served her a drink, which Nola drank greedily, chasing away her sorrows. Nola hated the smell, the taste, how it slid like fire down her throat, but it made her head all foggy. Whisky allowed her to forget the betrayals of the people who were never supposed to do something like that to her, to family.
Nola banged her cup on the counter. Lewis scraped the coin off the table, the metal grating sent shivers down her spine. Nola’s swimming gaze glanced up. Her eyes were hazy as she stared at the small, shrew-like man still standing behind the counter.
“What?” she asked grumpily.
Lewis shook his head. “You can’t keep on this way. Today is the last I’m serving you.”
Nola stood abruptly, her stool crashing to the ground. “I’m paying you for a service, now serve me.”
Lewis shook his head. “I refuse. Go home, Nola.”
Nola looked around helplessly, her head pounding with the movement. Pitying faces stared back at her. The only sound she could hear was the crackle of the fire.
Forlorn, she glanced back at Lewis. “What home?”
Lewis pointed toward the rotting tavern door that didn’t close all the way.
“All right.”
Nola stumbled out of the tavern, the daylight stinging her eyes with its vibrance. Her legs unconsciously moved forward without her control. Her balance lost on the smoothed road. Her wobbly legs trying to take her in different directions.
She rubbed her eyes, straining to get the haziness to clear, but it only seemed to make everything triple. A man boomed with laughter to her right. Nola scowled, for it sounded just like Wesley. With her hands out, she steadied herself. Her stomach churned with the alcohol and the sickening numbness of Claire’s betrayal.
Nola made her way to her small home. Her ever-nosey older neighbor got the door for her. Nola slurred out a thank you. The old lady’s eyes pinched together as she slammed the door behind her.
Nola stumbled toward the bed, kicking off her boots as she went. She took her long black hair out of its braid. Face planting on the quilt, she cried over Wesley. She missed the idea of what she thought they had. Nola missed how he made her feel: important and loved. She missed what he’d promised her: a family and a home. Those promises stung her heart with treachery. She would never trust a man’s pledges again.
Her stomach churned, and she groaned. Putting a hand to her head, she dared not open her eyes.
“Dammit,” she cursed.
Drinking him away seemed preferable to being a crying, blithering mess. But even when drinking, she cried. At this point, her tears were more from betrayal than heartbreak. The town believed differently though.
Wesley leaving her at the altar hurt more than discovering his love for Claire. Nola tried to convince herself Wesley was the cause of it all, however, it had taken two willing people to plan something as they had. It’d taken two. And they’d both betrayed her.
Groaning, she pushed herself off the bed. Her body swayed as if on a boat in a storm. She faced the wardrobe in her small home. She could leave come morning. There was nothing holding her there. She’d wasted enough coin on drowning out memories that only resurfaced harder with each shot she drank. She couldn’t go home to her parents who would compare her at every turn to the older, more-perfect-than-the-Goddess Abigail. The thought of her mother’s shrill voice made her cringe. Leaving Vamort and struggling was a better option than going home.
Nola snorted. Home was another name for dungeon. Abigail got whatever she wanted, as did her half-brother, Trenton. Her mother, Fiona, doted on Abigail and forced everyone else to as well. Her father, Richard, could not be bothered unless it involved money. Claire and her had been left to their own devices more often than not, and since she was the older one, she’d cared for Claire. They’d always and only had each other.
“Claire,” Nola slurred.
Over the years, Claire had become greedy like their father, manipulative like their mother. Nola hadn’t grasped it until it was too late. Little instances of needing money or always taking more than was necessary. It all made sense now. Nola had taken care of Claire, like she’d always done. Nola had let Claire live with her, provided for her, and done everything she could for her younger sister.
“Backstabbing horse’s ass,” Nola shouted.
Scowling, she reached for the wardrobe door, yanking it open. The force of it almost knocking her off her feet. Nola wobbled, garnering purchase from the other side of the door. Her dresses lay in the bottom, jumbled and wrinkled. Her satchel hung from a peg to her left.
“I’m leaving.”
Why she hadn’t done it sooner, she didn’t know. She had a well-paying job here tanning hides with regular customers. She turned hides into clothing for a decent price. The money had kept her here. After what happened, and with all her work completed, nothing tied her to this town. There would be other villages and new customers. She was leaving Vamort behind her for good.
She closed her eyes, feeling the numbness of whisky take over. Pounding from her door kept her slightly lidded eyes open.
“Go away,” Nola grumbled.
“Surprise!” her mother hollered.
Nola leaned her head against the doorframe and groaned.
“Sweetheart, we came all this way to see you and Wesley!” Fiona called through the door. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t make it for the big day. Please don’t be mad.”
Nola stumbled to the door. With a jerk, she opened it. “There was no wedding,” Nola mocked. “Wesley left me for your other daughter.”
Richard scowled, taking in her appearance. Fiona put a hand to her mouth.
“Are you drunk?” Richard hissed.
Nola grinned, leaning back to see their disapproving faces move in an oval around their head.
“Take her to the tavern,” Fiona hissed vehemently. “We need to keep an eye on her.”
With a giggle, she let go of the doorknob and fell backwards.