The portcullis creaks open, revealing the city stirring to life in the early morning light. The cobblestone streets glisten with melting frost, creating treacherous patches that threaten to send us sprawling. Shops are beginning to open, their owners sweeping doorsteps and arranging wares.
As we move deeper into the city, Morwen leads us to a shop nestled between a blacksmith and a cobbler. The sign above the door readsKarra Apothecaryin faded gold letters.
We step inside, and the scent of dried herbs and spices tickles my nose. Bundles of plants hang from the rafters. Shelves line the walls, filled with jars of powders and tinctures.
Morwen plucks items from the shelves, muttering under her breath as she examines each one. I hover nearby and try to look helpful while secretly wondering if any of these herbs could cure my hopeless infatuation with a certain brooding warrior.
I pick up a jar labeled feverfew and sniff it. It smells like a mix of daisies and the bitter tonic Grandmother forces down my throat when I’m ill.
Brennah moves to stand next to me. “Isn’t this place amazing? I bet they have something that could make Cenric fall in love with me.”
I nearly drop the jar. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Brennah.”
She pouts. “Why not? If magic can heal wounds and summon fire, surely it can make someone fall in love.”
If only it were that easy.
I sigh and tuck stray strands of hair behind my ear. “We don’t have magic.”
She sighs. “Sadly.”
Morwen shakes a gnarled finger at us. “We will have it again.”
I want to believe her words, but it’s hard to imagine magicreturning to our people, especially when we’ve been without it for so long.
The other five barbarian tribes of Tarrobane have magic. The Kyanites wield the magic of light, granting them the aptitude for healing. The Hematites command the element of fire. The Carnelians have power over water. Malachites can move the earth. And the Calcites rule the very air we breathe.
My tribe used to have magic too—dark magic that made us strong and formidable. But the gods cursed us long ago, stripping away our power. Now, we have nothing left but anger and aggression. At least, that’s how the other tribes see us—as bitter and violent.
Sometimes, I imagine that things are different and the Bloodstone never ruled the other tribes with an iron fist, never did anything to anger the gods.
In those dreams, our magic was never taken away.
The truth is that we brought misfortune on ourselves, and now we have to live with the consequences.
“I need it right now,” Brennah pouts.
“Even if you had it,” Morwen says as we follow her from the apothecary to a vegetable stall, “you wouldn’t be able to make anyone fall in love with you.”
While Ava and Feyona fill baskets with potatoes, carrots, and other root vegetables, I move to the next stall, where Brennah examines a display of brightly colored fruit.
“Do you think Cenric likes apples or pears better?” she asks, holding up one of each.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him eat either.” Though, Ihave spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at his mouth.
Brennah frowns and puts the fruit back.
Morwen turns to address us. “Brennah, Everly, gather fruit. We need apples, figs, and pears.”
Chapter
Eighteen
EVERLY
I graban empty basket from the cart and place apples and pears into it. Brennah picks up another basket and adds figs to hers.
“Do you think Cenric likes figs?” Brennah asks.
