Six Years Ago

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Built along the Lake of Glass and far from the shadow of the Teeth was the sleepy town of Barje Vos, hidden gem of Azherbal. It was a town so old that the earth crawled up the sides of its pale wooden houses, flowery vines blanketing the roofs and even the tower of the town hall. Barje Vos was a town of colour. Lanterns made of crushed-petal paper glowed on every awning, residents laid handmade carpets on their doorsteps, and children learned from a young age how to embroider their woollen clothes with all the brightness of a summer field. The colour spread from Barje Vos over rolling hills, covered for half the year by sugary blossoms of every shade. The people of Barje Vos had harvested the spices from these blossoms for centuries, and their scent filled the air with a sweetness that clung to their skin and hair well into winter. The hills reached from the lake almost to the mountains, home to fat bees and butterflies as large as a baby’s head. And just beyond those hills was an alder glade where Kamala hid whenever she was upset.

I rode my mother’s mare over the well-worn path, careful not to crush any of the blossoms underfoot. Kamala’s mother had told me that her ungrateful daughter hadn’t shown up to mind the smithy that morning, and wondered aloud where that layabout saw her future going with such poor work ethic. I’d told her I had no idea where Kamala could have gone and promptly set off for the glade.

I found her pacing the edge of a stream, hurling pebbles into the water with some murmured rant under her breath. When she saw me approaching, she called “I’m staying with you tonight!”

With a small laugh, I tied up my horse and joined her by the stream. “I was going to say the same thing. My sister’s cooking tonight.”

She grimaced. “Woods it is.”

I gave her a tight hug, and she squeezed back. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My parents are trying to set me up with Lyn.”

I pulled back and raised a brow. “Wait. Lyn as in I’ll-Have-You-Know-My-Family-Owns-Four-Wineries Lyn?”

“Stop smiling, it’s not funny.”

“No, no. This is serious. So why are they trying to get you two lovebirds together? They want a few free bottles, that it?”

“They want us to marry.”

My smile stuck. My hands dropped from Kamala.

“Lyn’s family has money, connections … Lyn’s father promises to use his contacts with House Shrike to land a weapons contract. Then I wouldn’t need to take over the smithy. We’d have the money to open more shops and hire our own craftsmen. It’s a smart match.” She crossed her arms over her stomach like she was about to throw up.

I could feel my world crashing in on itself. Kamala and I were a unit. We’d been friends since we could walk. And I’d loved her since I’d learned what the word meant.

She turned away and stared into the stream. I wanted to freeze time, give myself all the seconds in eternity to memorize every inch of her. She’d left her hair down, and it curled down her back in messy black waves. As her mother often did, she’d applied a shimmering oil to her lids and arms in the custom from Mehrak, leaving a subtle glow on her sun-browned skin. She wore the wool vest she’d made me a matching twin of—a long panel of periwinkle brocade embroidered with Barje Vos’s flowers. But I lingered on her eyes. Normally so bright with laughter, now sunk into the depths of fear and sadness.

“When are you to be married?” I mumbled.

“Lyn’s parents are to sign the betrothal contract in a few days. The wedding will be set for after are both of legal age.”

Kamala would be married in four years, at twenty. But that contract was binding. In a few days, the world would know that Kamala and Lyn were bound together. They would sing songs, toast to their health, throw parties and light the lanterns of Barje Vos in celebration of new love.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Do you want to marry Lyn?”

“No,” Kamala gasped instantly. I noticed her trembling. “And Lyn doesn’t want me either. Our parents are making a business decision. They don’t give a shit about either of us.”

I grasped desperately at that small glimmer of hope. “Say no.”

“And then what? My parents are depending on me for this. If I refuse, do you think I could still live with them? Could I watch them work themselves to the bone into their old age when I could have stopped that from happening?”

A harsh whine blotted out my common sense. All I could see was a future without Kamala. One where she was the lovely lady of Lyn’s wineries, so far away. One where I couldn’t hold her, comfort her, tell her how I felt without it being a betrayal.

“Then marry me.”

She turned to look at me slowly, eyes wide with shock. “What?” she squeaked, like her lungs had dried up.

“We can leave for Ardila Vos right now and sign a contract of intent. Lyn’s family won’t be able to do anything about it.” My voice came rushed, manic. I let it all spill out. “We’ll support your parents. I’ll find work, I’ll find some other way to get the contracts, they can retire and you’ll never have to sacrifice your happiness for them—”

“But what about your happiness, Rozin?” Her tone was so low, defeated. “I can’t ask you to give up your future for me. What you’re offering … you are the kindest person I have ever met. But you deserve to marry for love. Not to save me.”

“But I love you.”

Kamala barely breathed.

“I’ve loved you my entire life, Kamala. It’s always been you. I didn’t turn down everyone else because I had no interest in love, as I told you. I had no interest in them. Because I knew there would never be anyone else. Marrying you would be the single greatest happiness I can imagine.”

She stared at me unreadably, her lips parted in shock. I simply stood and waited, face burning, my heart pounding so loud I couldn’t hear anything else. But I felt drunk with risk. I’d said it. How many nights had I lain awake, imagining all the ways I’d do it? How she’d tell me she loved me too, or how she’d turn away, or how she’d ask me never to speak of it again? In my dreams I’d confessed a thousand times. I never seemed to make it to the aftermath.

“Rozin,” she said too gently, and I felt my heart squeeze in pain. “I don’t …”

“Please don’t finish that,” I forced out. My vision seemed to wobble. “It’s okay. I understand.”

I began to back away. I could get away from this and cry where she couldn’t see me.

But Kamala caught my wrist. “Would you let me finish? You can’t drop that on me and run away. It’s not right, Rozin.”

So I stood there, trying desperately to hold onto my composure. Creators, what had I done? Why hadn’t I been content with what I had? I could have been Kamala’s friend for a century and never regretted a single day.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I shouldn’t have … you have enough to worry about.”

Kamala’s hand wove in mine. “Rozin. Look at me.”

When I didn’t, her fingers brushed my jaw. Feather-light, skipping my heart. Gently, she turned me to face her. I had only a moment to see her gentle smile, to feel her drawing me close, before she kissed me.

It was a slight thing, barely a press to my lips, but it was enough to scatter my thoughts in every direction. I stood numbly as she drew away and smiled at me again.

“So you don’t try and run,” she whispered.

My sense of being narrowed to her thumb stroking my hand.

“I was trying to say that I didn’t know what to say.” Kamala squeezed my trembling hand, rock steady. “You surprised me. I didn’t expect to leave the woods with a new betrothed.”

It took me too long to process what she’d said, and Kamala laughed at my stupefied expression. I’d always adored that laugh. Unrestrained, always a bit too loud to be proper.

“A new betrothed,” I said stupidly.

“That’s right. Unless you rescind your offer?”

“Never.”

“Then, Rozin Kain, daughter of Ahd and Erden, I, Kamala ys Kostya, daughter of Simisola and Farid, accept your proposal of marriage. I ask Love to bless us, Union to guide us, and Night to guard us against ill.”

“Love to bless,” I repeated in a trembling voice. “Union to guide, Night to guard.”

“And Time,” Kamala added with a radiant smile, “to give us all she has.”

*

We rode back from Ardila Vos by twilight, a signed letter of betrothal in my pocket. All we needed were the signatures of our parents to make it binding. My family would sign it in an instant. But it might take some convincing to prove to Kamala’s parents that I would be a worthy match.

Kamala rested her cheek against my back. My heart skipped. It was still sinking in. Kamala would be mine, and I would be hers. I would never need to let her go.

“I’ve always loved it out here,” she murmured against me.

The Lake of Glass stretched out beside us, the great willow trees that surrounded it rippling in a light breeze. A pale moon reflected against the still water, casting the world in a delicate glow.

“What if we built a house here?” I murmured back. “All to ourselves.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“Then you’ll have it.”

Her arms squeezed my waist, and I felt her quiet affection.

We rode over a wide band of sigils etched into the earth. The ring ward surrounding Barje Vos to ensnare wandering dangers. It hummed purple at our presence but faded as it felt our human souls. We passed through.

“Rozin. What’s that?”

I squinted into the willows, following the path of the ward. My horse snorted and stamped as I yanked the reins.

“A daemon.”