Page 2 of Deliverance

I pause at the gate, waiting for my mother and sister to catch up with me. The gatekeepers sometimes give me trouble if I try to enter on my own, so I tend not to travel here unless I am with my family. No one would even try to deny my mother entry to the village.

One of the gatekeepers steps forward to check us over, his gaze landing heavily on me. I recognise him, but I cannot remember why. Most of the villagers stay away from me, andthat is how I like it. Right now, though, I do not like the way he is looking at me with a cross between distrust and desire. That is a dangerous combination. While I might describe myself as pretty and curvy, others have called me beautiful. They might call me strange and scowl at me when I pass, yet many of the men here desire me. I am not vain when I say that. Simply put, I am the unknown, mysterious woman from the house by the forest, and that makes me desirable. They do not love me or want to court me, no, they wish to dominate me. I see the violence glimmering in their eyes when they think no one else is watching, and it makes me fearful. If I had to choose between walking down a dark alley in the village or through the forest, I would pick the forest every time. At least the monsters there do not try to hide what they really are.

A hand lands on my arm, startling me from my staring match with the gatekeeper—my sister. I watch as she smiles prettily up at him, drawing his attention away from me. His eyes light up, and he blatantly admires Jasmine, noting the low cut of her dress, her cleavage just peeking from the neckline.

My mother clears her throat loudly to remind them that she is there and not happy with what she is witnessing. This seems to snap the guard into action. He looks at my mother, and he bows his head in acknowledgement before his gaze moves back to Jasmine. When she smiles, she really is beautiful.

“Well, hello, Miss Bloom,” the gatekeeper greets with a smile. “You look lovely today.”

“Why thank you, Jimmy, it’s a new dress.” She runs her hands down the front of the fabric, and the male’s gaze follows the movement as though he can see straight through the fabric to what is hiding beneath. “We are here to visit the market,” she finishes brightly, biting her lower lip as though she is anxious he will not let us in.

Jimmy, I knew I recognised him. He is several years older than me and went to school with us. He used to pick on me until Jasmine tried to punch him one day. He kept away from me after that, but I always felt his eyes on me. Now that I think back, I remember snippets of a conversation Jasmine had with my mother, and Jimmy’s name came up several times.

Taking in her uncharacteristic smile and coy expression, I hardly recognise her as my sister. She has lit up under his attention, becoming a different person. Her show of uncertainty is an act put on to make him want to care for her. The effort works. Puffing out his chest as though he is an expanding balloon, the guard rolls his shoulders back in a way I am sure he thinks makes him look manly.

“Then by all means, please enter.” Stepping aside, he gestures for us to pass. Unlinking our arms, we step forward to enter the village. Just as I am about to cross the threshold, his hand whips out and pulls me to a stop. “Oh, Miss Iris?”

I turn to look at him, the hold so tight on my arm that I can already feel it starting to bruise. However, I don’t let my discomfort show on my face. My mother and sister are already out of hearing range and are only just realising that I have not entered with them. Mother looks concerned, but my sister just looks annoyed.

“Yes, sir?”

His eyes flash at the title, enjoying being called sir when he is from as poor a background as I am. “We do not want any trouble here. I have no qualms in handing you over to the jailor if you so much as sneeze too loudly.”

“I understand.” I keep my head down and make myself look meek and helpless. Really, my head is lowered to hide the anger that flares inside me. There is a wildness within me that I have always felt, but I have learned to tame it. Surrounded by plants,I am at my calmest, and it settles my soul. It is when I am surrounded by humans that everything becomes more difficult.

Stumbling forward, I hurry to catch up with my family, shuddering from the memory of his touch. Thankfully, as I step into the village and see the flowering baskets and blooming rose bushes between the houses, I feel my anxiety lift. Ever since I began to attend the village weekly, life around Brine blossomed.

It had been the mayor’s idea, seeing how plants respond so well to my care. Honestly, the plants do not need much from me, just the occasional watering and pruning. Stepping up to several barrels that have been turned into large planters, I run my hands over the leaves of a small rose. This time last week, it had been little more than a dry stalk, and now, although still small, it has leaves, green shoots, and a tiny bud. It should bloom by next week. All of these plants are so full of life that I can almostfeelit thrumming beneath my fingers.

“Iris, come, we need to get to the market before it gets busy and the traders raise their prices.”

Jerking my hand away from the plants at my mother’s voice, I look up, startled. Why do I feel as though I have been caught doing something I shouldn’t? I have been tasked with caring for the flowers, and that is exactly what I am doing. Perhaps it is the fact I am so closely watched while in Brine, everyone waiting for me to make a mistake.

Clearing my throat, I follow my mother over to the bustling market square. I feel a soft smile pull at my lips. Despite the fact that there are people everywhere, I love market day. With a deep inhale, I take in all the scents and colours that fill the usually empty space. Some of the items for sale seem so exotic—spices that are the colour of the deep orange roses in my garden, clothes made of wispy fabrics, and sparkling belts that make me blush.

My mother and sister go off to complete their tasks, and I focus on trying to sell the bouquets I made. Usually this is not too difficult, but something is different today.

“Sorry, miss. No trade today, coin only.” A female trader selling loaves of bread shakes her head. She seems genuinely apologetic, but her eyes do not stay on me long, flicking from person to person as they pass by.

The traders are nervous, their eyes shifting as they watch everyone closely, as though they are trying to assess if they are a threat or not. It is making them tighten their purse strings, and I am struggling to sell or trade my flowers. Even my usual buyers are refusing, the atmosphere over the market tight and heavy.

I have been to almost every stall now, including the ones who never buy from me. It was worth a try. Taking a deep breath, I glance around and take in the final row of vendors.

“Girl, are you selling those flowers?” a female voice calls out to me.

I turn on the spot and see a woman I did not notice before. I am not sure how I missed her stall, which has bright purple fabric draped over the table to advertise her wares. The woman has a kind face, her laugh lines crinkling as she smiles at me and gestures for me to come closer. She wears a headscarf in the same deep purple as the material on the table, large silver hoops dangling from her ears. I have never seen anyone like her before.

“Yes, would you like some?” I ask, wishing I sounded more confident. “I grew them in my garden.”

She barely glances into my basket, her pale blue eyes scanning my face. “They are beautiful. I cannot give you coin, but I am happy to trade.”

I hoped for coin, but this woman is the only person who has shown any interest today, so I am thankful for whatever I can get. Giving her a tight smile, I drop my gaze to her table, my eyebrows rising as I take in the various items on display. A rowof glass bottles containing a strange greenish liquid catches my eye, the labels written in a language I do not recognise. Several charms and other knick-knacks are scattered across the table, many of them containing feathers and teeth and held together with what looks like hair.

Confused, I look up, hoping my discomfort is not obvious. Anything that contains animal parts makes me wary, and my mother’s cautions of dark magic rings in the back of my mind. “What are you selling?”

She smiles at me and places a hand on top of mine. “Protection against the fae. You are the girl who lives by the woods, right?” Tingles run up my arm from where she touches me, but I am too distracted by her comment to question it.

She is not from around here, one of the travelling traders perhaps, but I know she has never come to Brine before. How does she know who I am?

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