The rhythm of the loom is my heartbeat, and today, the song comes easily. I lose myself in the weave, my sleeves pushed back and my wimple tight against my neck as I work the heavy wool. I’m singing—a light, foolish thing—until a heavy shadow falls across my window.
I yank the door open, a playful greeting already on my lips. “I’m coming, who wants me now?”
The words die in my throat. Standing there is Marcus, his blue-and-silver surcoat a bright, mocking stain against the greenery of my garden. Behind him, the Ash-bound guards loom like scowling ghosts. My heart seizes, a cold prickle of dread sliding down my spine. I know the rumours about Lord Valerius, and Marcus’s eyes… they linger on me in a way that makes me want to scrub my skin raw.
I force my shoulders back, refusing to shrink. “I’m coming,” I say, snatching my bag. “Do you know why His Lordship wants me?”
“Hah!” Marcus growls, looking far too pleased by my haste. “None of his special parties, girl—just your weaving skills. Move quickly—we must be back at the hall before the bell tolls. You won’t like being late for him.”
The walk from my cottage to the manor house feels longer than it ever has before. Usually, I would stop to greet the neighbours or enjoy the simplicity of the way the light catches the dew on the heather, but today the air feels thick and heavy. Marcus marches beside me, his hand never far from the hilt of his sword, while the Ash-bound guards follow behind like silent, metal-clad shadows.
I try to swallow the lump of dread in my throat. Perhaps if I could make him see me as a person—a neighbour—this cold weight will lift.
“It’s a fine afternoon for a walk, isn’t it, Captain?” I ask, forcing a lightness into my voice that I do not truly feel. “Though I suppose you’re used to more exciting travels than a stroll through our little village.”
Marcus does not turn his head. A small, dark smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t a friendly expression. It was the look of a wolf watching a lamb try to walk for the first time.
“The scenery in Oakhaven has its charms,” he murmurs, his voice low and grating. He slows his pace just enough so that his shoulder brushes mine. “Especially the parts that think they’re hidden away in quiet cottages.”
I shiver, the cheer I tried to conjure vanishing instantly. “I only meant… the Queen’s commission. It must be a great honour for the village.”
“Honour?” Marcus lets out a short, sharp bark of a laugh that makes the guards behind us shift. He turns to look at me then, his eyes tracking the way my hands tremble as I grip the strap of my bag. He seems to drink in my discomfort, his grin widening as my face pales. “You worry too much about the Queen, girl. You should be more concerned with the man standing right in front of you.”
I fall silent, the edge of his words cutting through my attempt at small talk. We reach the heavy oak doors of the manor house, and as the iron bolts screech open, I realise that my morning song is truly ended.
Marcus shoves me through an open doorway before I can even process the turn in the corridor. I stumble, my boots catching on a small stool, and I hit the floor hard. My hands scramble against the cold wood as I back away, my breath coming in shallow hitches, until my shoulders thud against the foot of a heavy bed.
The room smells of stale fear—or perhaps that is just the scent of my own horror reflecting off the linens. I scan the walls, desperate for a weapon. There is nothing here but heavy tapestries and wall hangings. The door is my only exit.
Marcus steps inside, kicking the door shut with a finality that makes my stomach turn. He begins to strip away his surcoat, the blue and silver Ravens of the crest mocking me as they fall. He unbuckles his sword belt, letting it hit the floor with a deliberate, heavy thud. There is a hunger in his eyes that has nothing to do with the Queen’s commission.
“It’s not His Lordship you should have been worried about, my girl,” he growls, his voice thick with a terrifying satisfaction. “He has very specific tastes. I, on the other hand, find young villagers tempting in the extreme.”