Page 23 of Forcing Fate

“Avyanna?”

When I didn’t respond, Willhelm took a sudden turn and led me beside a building. It didn’t hide us from those passing by, but it was private enough to speak more freely.

“Did he hurt you?”

I closed my eyes, trying to hold it together. I felt every bit the seventeen-winters I was—weak and helpless, and Willhelm was not helping that.

“Avyanna, I need to know if he hurt you.” His voice held an edge of anger. Not at me, I was sure, but at General Rafe.

I shook my head and gathered enough courage to peer up. The concern blanketing his face tightened my throat. “Nothing but my pride,” I assured him.

His eyebrows snapped together in a harsh frown, and he dipped his chin, accepting my answer. “Remember, even a General is not above the law.”

I nodded and looked past him toward the crowded road. I just wanted the safety of my room. He seemed to understand that and led me back. We traveled to the gate in silence. I held out my order to the guards and heard a hiss from Willhelm when he saw my hands.

“It was my own doing,” I murmured.

“And what exactly were you doing?” he asked.

“Picking berries. It was completely unrelated to my duties today.” Which was the truth. Partly. I had tried to go the extra mile, and be better than what was required of me—look where that got me.

Willhelm grunted and nodded to the guards when they passed my orders back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Willhelm,” I said, crossing onto school grounds.

“You don’t have to. Go, tell the Masters what happened,” he urged.

No. I couldn’t let the General beat me. There was no way I’d give up now. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I repeated, turning away.

Tomorrow was a new day. Tomorrow, things would be better. Today taught me a lesson, yet I wouldn’t let that defeat me. Yes, I was discouraged—I was angry and hurt. However, I had dealt with similar situations my whole life. My peers thought me nothing more than a bookworm and a prude, doomed to be a dusty old hag.

When the bullying began, I learned how to deal with it or hide away. Very few sought my friendship, and I had nothing to offer those who did. I lived my life for myself, my mother, and to avenge my father. Today, I might have lost a battle, but I would win the war.

The next morning, I rose with a hunger in my belly. I had skipped dinner again last evening, and I was ravenous.

After tidying my room, I stared at my blue dress with an ache in my chest. Those stains would never come out. I could at least wear it while doing hard labor, though the purple splotches stood out so much—I’d look foolish. Still, the dress was intact and served its purpose. I wouldn’t throw it out.

I dressed in my only other acceptable clothing, my beige working-dress, and laid the ruined one by my door. Last night, I hadn’t quite felt up to being around the gossiping women, or anyone else for that matter, to tackle the stains. It would have to wait till tonight.

Foregoing my usual braids, I settled on a simple bun and slipped my boots on. I didn’t have enough coin for a new dress. I’d been saving to buy my mother a gift for the next winter. Perhaps I could get by with my beige dress if I washed it often. It would wear out sooner, but I had no other options. I would have to apply myself for more odd jobs from the Masters.

Upon entering the hall, I nearly bumped into a woman bustling down the corridor. She glared at me as she hurried past, ignoring my muttered apology. I took a deep breath. Today would be better than yesterday. If each day was what you make of it, I would make today a fine day.

In the common room, I snagged two rolls and stopped to put a dab of butter on them. I reached for the dried prunes, but a shrill voice had me pulling my hand back.

“Feeling gluttonous this morning, are we?” Vivian called, walking into the room.

Food wasn’t scarce here on the King’s grounds, but it was a precious commodity. With the King providing for so many of his subjects, the butter was spread awfully thin.

I made a face at her and grabbed a prune, anyway.

“You take enough for two people,” she sneered. “One would wonder why you still resemble a stick.”

“Vivian, leave her be,” an older woman chided over her cup of tea. “She hasn’t even come to dinner the past two nights.”

Vivian gave me a shrewd scowl, and I slipped past her, rushing down the stairs.

She supplied me with yet another reason to enjoy the company of older generations.

---