Will that happen to me? Finding family here so far away from Astarobane?
“Careful there,” I warn Brennah as she nearly slips in a treacherous patch of mud. “I don’t think your future husband would want you to drown in a mud pit.”
Brennah rights herself and grins, her freckled nose crinkling. “My future husband? How do you know I’m not already married?”
I shrug. “I don’t.”
Her grin widens, showing off the small gap between her front teeth. “I’m jesting with you, Everly. I’m not married, but I hope to be soon.”
Feyona shakes her head as she rests one hand protectively against her rounded belly. “You are dreaming, Bree.”
A frown appears between Brennah’s brow as she tosses her long braid over one shoulder. “What’s wrong with dreaming?”
“Nothing,” Feyona says. “Just make sure you choose a man who actually smiles back at you, not one who scowls.”
“But I want Cenric,” Brennah says, her frown deepening.
Cenric? She wants my Cenric?
“Cenric?” I choke out, my voice unnaturally high.
Brennah nods enthusiastically. “The very same. Isn’t he perfect?”
Very.
“He’s...something,” I manage.
The younger woman playfully nudges my arm. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed his blue eyes, or that chiseled jaw, or the way his muscles ripple when he spars.”
Of course I’ve noticed.
“I suppose he’s not bad to look at,” I concede, aiming for nonchalance and no doubt failing.
Feyona scoffs. “Not bad to look at? Are you blind?”
No, just hopelessly in love.
“Maybe Everly prefers a different type,” Ava chimes in.
“What other type is there?” Brennah asks.
Instead of responding, I bite my tongue.
A smile tugs at the corners of Brennah’s mouth. “Maybe she likes them short and round.”
As Feyona passes by a tree, she grabs a tiny pinecone and rolls it between her fingers. “Or maybe she likes them bald and toothless.”
It takes everything in me not to snort and tell them exactly how I like them.
“Ladies,” Morwen interjects. “Let’s not torment the poor girl. We all have our preferences.”
“But Cenric is everyone’s preference,” Brennah insists.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure there are other fish in the sea, Brennah.”Liar! There is no other fish. There’s only Cenric.
She wrinkles her nose, like I told her she needs to marry a flounder. “I don’t want a fish. I want Cenric.”
As we approach Karra, the conversation mercifully shifts to the day’s shopping list.
