Page 51 of Forcing Fate

The bed dipped beneath my mother’s weight as she sat beside me. Her warm hand rested on my back, moving in slow circles. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you sweets.”

Her voice was quiet, soothing, as she told me of the farmer she had hitched a ride with. How the treats went missing from her basket, and the farmer’s eight children, covered in sugar and crumbs, all denying they’d taken them. She’d fallen ill not long after that, barely able to stand. With all the sickness plaguing the country and so few Healers, everyone refused her pleas for passage. Even the traveling blacksmith who brought her last year turned her away. Once she gained enough strength, she walked and walked, wearing holes in her thin shoes, just to get here one day late.

Her hand slid to my arm, rubbing my shoulder, then smoothing my hair. Heavy emotion thickened her voice. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. No one could have known…”

Her words trailed off, but I knew what she meant. No one could have predicted the hatchling would be a Wild One. But it was. Somehow, more tears leaked past my lashes, dampening my blanket.

When she spoke of how proud she was, of how proud my father would be, an ache, heavy and smothering, burrowed through my chest. Because how could they be? How could they be proud of me when I had only failed?

“Gareth would have loved to see the woman you’ve become,” she whispered.

No. My father would have expected more from me. He would have scolded me for placing all my hopes and dreams on a gamble.

When she moved to wipe the tears from my cheeks, I turned, hiding my face in my blanket. She resumed stroking my back and spoke about life in the village. How she snuck treats to children when their parents weren’t looking. She told me she adopted a cat to keep away the mice, then laughed as she explained the creature turned out to be terrified of the vermin. It constantly scratched holes in the flour sacks and left footprints all about the bakery. But she loved it dearly and refused to get rid of it.

She rambled on about the less important things until my breaths slowed and I drifted into a dark, dreamless sleep.

When I woke, it was morning—a full day had passed. My mother couldn’t stay, and when she came to say goodbye, her voice was thick with grief. She placed a kiss on my brow and promised me everything was going to be alright. She asked me if I wanted to come home with her, but our little village wasn’t the place for me right now. I shook my head. She kissed me again, then left.

Chimes rang outside my window, one after the other, marking the hour, then the day. Then another day. I hadn’t eaten, hadn’t bothered to change out of my clothes. My few travels to the lavatory were a blurred haze.

A knock sounded at my door, and I blinked the bleary fog from my eyes as Master Elenor entered with a tray of food. She placed it on the small table beside my bed.

“Eat,” she ordered, settling herself on the stool.

I glanced at the roll slathered in butter and the cup of fruit next to it. My stomach churned in rebellion.

“I’m not hungry.” The words rasped out of my mouth through dry lips.

“Regardless, you will eat.”

I had no energy to argue, but I wasn’t going to eat either. I simply closed my eyes and rolled over, turning away from her, dead to the world.

There was a heavy sigh.

“Sit up.” Her weight joined mine on the bed.

My knees curled into my chest. I was still so tired. I didn’t want company and didn’t want to eat.

“Avyanna of Gareth, this is beneath you. Sit up.”

No. This wasn’t beneath me. I felt like the lowest possible human in all of Rinmoth. The history books would remember me that way. Eating wouldn’t change that.

Strong hands lifted me up by my armpits, forcing me upright. My vision spun from the motion, and she gripped me by the jaw.

“You are not a child anymore. You do not get to throw fits and starve yourself. That is petty. You are not petty. Eat.”

Her conviction had me glancing at the food. Nausea sat like a rock in the pit of my stomach. I attempted to pull away, but she held me fast.

“I am staying here until you eat something. I have a great many things to do today, and if I have to sit here and watch you eat, that will take up valuable time.” Her piercing blue eyes sought mine, and for once, I saw the compassion in them.

I believed Master Elenor to be hard and uncaring. She always acted as though her favorite dress was stained, yet here she was, trying to get me to eat. A small spark of emotion flittered into my icy heart. Not much, but just enough to make me grab the roll. I tore off a tiny piece and pushed it past my lips.

Master Elenor let out a faint, relieved sigh and relaxed her shoulders. “Do you know what I have to do today?” she asked. I stared, void of curiosity.

“I have to talk to Master Tegun. That man is unbearable.” She raised a brow at my roll, and I tore off another piece. She was referring to the Master of Men, the man who oversaw the male side of the dorms.

My stomach revolted as I tried to swallow, yet my mouth watered at the first taste of food in days.

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