Page 3 of Shade of Ruin

I don’t know why they get nervous around me, but they do. Everyone does. Even people I’ve dealt with more times than I can count, like the furrier who’s bought more skins and pelts from me than anyone else in town. Hazel is the only person, other than Vesta, who’s never nervous around me.

Except when I come home covered in blood.

She’s why I normally try to wash in the river after a hunt. I don’t know what I’d do if Hazel had a reason to look at me with disgust in her eyes. Today, I’d thought she’d still be in town, so I could clean up in the house instead of at the river.

There’s nothing to do about it now. The best I can do is leave the wolf pelt outside to deal with later.

That’s why, when I walk into the townhouse, I know something’s different. Hazel is staring out a window toward town as she hums that song. Looking at the room, nothing seems out of place. The beige curtains are pulled open like every day, the windows open to let in the breeze. The carved wooden chairs and tables made of exotic dark woods that Aunt Prudence bought from a traveling merchant a few years ago are still there.

A light breeze blows past Hazel, catching pieces of her light brown hair in its movement as she smiles. Her smile isn’t ever wide. It’s never loud or obvious. It’s safe and soft, never enough to draw attention to her even when we’re all alone. No, you can’t tell if she’s happy or sad based on that smile. It’s only in her eyes that you can see her emotions.

Hazel’s rich brown eyes hide her depth and happiness. Her pale cheeks seem to always have just the slightest touch of rosiness to them. The portrait of a blushing young woman, she was made for being in high society. To wear beautiful dresses like the one she’s wearing now.

A violet muslin dress with puffy shoulders that’s tied around the middle. It’s a happy dress, one that Aunt Prudence bought her for her birthday last year. Between the dress and the gleam in her eye, I should have known that something special had happened today.

I miss it. I’m too worried she’s going to scold me for looking like I’ve come home from a slaughter. That’s why it surprises me so much when she rushes to me. “Maeve!” She says my name in a way that makes me question whether she’s terrified or excited. I don’t have time to say anything before she clarifies. “Thomas Milligan asked Father for my hand!”

It’s her dream. I’ve known I’ll probably never marry, but Hazel’s always wanted a big wedding. She wants to wear a beautiful dress and be the center of attention. Her greatest aspiration is to be happily married with a handful of children. I’m glad that her fantasy has become a reality, but why did it have to be Thomas Milligan?

It’s not surprising with his father owning the general goods store and Uncle Trevor being the richest person in town. It’s a good match, and if I knew nothing about Thomas, I’d congratulate her and be just as excited as she is. But I know things about him.

“Hazel…” I know I’m not giving her a look she wants to see. “Thomas isn’t the kind of man you should marry. You can do so much better than him.”

Immediately, her excitement evaporates. This is her lifelong dream, and I know I’m ruining it, but she can’t marry him. “Why can’t you just be happy for me, Maeve?” It breaks my heart to hear her say it like that. It’s all she’s ever wanted, and I’m telling her she should turn it down.

Her soft smile is gone, and in its place is anger. I can’t remember the last time she was angry at me. I should just be quiet. I should smile and wish her the best of luck, but Ican’t see her miserable even if she’s angry about it. “He’s not a good match. Not that long ago, he spent his nights with Alayne Fairfax, and…”

“And what, Maeve? What gossip are you going to bring me? Something you heard from that furrier’s boy? Or from the baker? You should hear what she says aboutyou.” My fingers twitch at my side, wishing I could wring them across my spear as I try to maintain my calmness. It’s been a bad day already, and now this.

Instead of explaining how I know, I say, “Thomas left her with bruises, Hazel. He’s not a good man. He’s not the kind of man you deserve.”

My cousin’s eyes open wide for a moment, but then she shakes her head. “Just town gossip. There’s no reason I should listen to it.”

I take her hand in mine. Soft, clean, pampered hands compared to my rough and blood-covered ones. We were raised together, but we were raised nothing alike. Hazel Arden could end up in a court wearing puffy gowns and dancing with nobles. I, on the other hand, won’t ever leave the forests around Blackgrove, and the idea of being stuck in a court makes me sick to my stomach.

“Hazel, Iknowhe hurt her.” The first day that Hazel had said she was interested in him, I’d begun following him, watching to see what kind of man he was. I’d seen things that my sweet cousin shouldn’t have to hear about.

I can see the pain in her eyes. She’d thought her wildest dreams were coming true, and I’m shattering them. I don’t want to hurt her.

She shakes her head softly. “No one else says that,” she whispers. “Why should I believe you instead of Father? Father says he has a fantastic reputation.”

Because Uncle Trevor is a terrible man and shouldn’t have any right to judge another person’s quality. “Because Iknow, Hazel. You’ve always trusted me before, haven’t you?”

She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “Maeve, why can’t you just be normal one day? Why couldn’t you come home and congratulate me? That’s what everyone else has done! Why can’t you tell me he’s a good man and he’ll make a good husband like them? For once, why can’t you just not be so strange? I do trust you, and that makes it so much worse.”

That’s when she seems to notice that I’m covered in blood. She jerks her hands away, and I see my mother’s ring slip off, but it’s forgotten almost immediately. I know what’s coming next. The look of disgust on her face. The absolute revulsion in her eyes. I’ve seen it too many times to not know it instantly.

“Maybe Mother and Father are right,” she whispers, the violet dress with its puffy sleeves swaying in the breeze. She looks at me, those dark brown eyes taking my visage in. The gore that covers the linen tunic and pants that I’m wearing makes me look wild. The smell of death that surrounds me would have anyone confusing me with something feral. She really takes me in, and I know what she sees. She doesn’t see the cousin of the most eligible girl in Blackgrove. No, she sees the same person that everyone else does.

“Maybe everyone else is right about you, Maeve. They all say I should stay away from you. They say your mother was one ofthem, and you have Fae blood in your veins. Who else would be comfortable walking around like you are?”

I’ve spent my life hearing the whispers about me, and not even once have I given into the anger that boils up inside me each time. I’ve reminded myself that they don’t matter. Even Aunt Prudence and Uncle Trevor’s comments haven’t ever gotten under my skin. They’re little comments from little people. Vesta taught me to control those emotions, to never let them get to me.

But Hazel… Other than Vesta, Hazel is the only person in the world that’s ever mattered to me after my father disappeared.

“You don’t mean that,” I whisper, and I can feel the growl rolling in my voice. The wildness that I hide from the people in town starts to take hold of me. The pure, animalistic anger that I’ve done everything I could to hide away.

“I do, Maeve. Why can’t you just be normal for once? Not,” she seems to hesitate for a moment and then says the one thing that I never believed she would say. “Not like a Wyrdling.”

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