Page 1 of Deliverance

Chapter One

Present Day

Asmile of delight brightens my face as a golden fortune bird lands on my extended hand. Just seeing one of the rare native birds is said to bring luck and riches, so I wonder what is said about those who are lucky enough to hold one. Our land is built on the tales of our ancestors, stories passed down from generation to generation, mostly superstitions and warnings to keep children from misbehaving or entering the woods around us. I have always loved the tales of the fortune birds.

About the height of my forefinger, it has a round body that does not look capable of flight, its black tail doubling its length. Black and yellow feathers cover most of its body, but the golden flashes on the underside of its wings gives it the name of fortune bird. The elders in the village tell stories of a time where the birds were used by miners, as the beautiful creatures were drawn to precious stones and gold in the mountains.

“What a beautiful little creature you are,” I coo, bringing my hand a little closer to my face so I can take in the colours of its feathers.

The bird seems to preen under my admiration, fluffing up its feathers as it meets my gaze, although I am sure I am just imagining it. After all, birds do not communicate with humans. That is crazy talk and the sort of thing that would get me locked up in the village jail.

“Are you talking to the flowers again, sister?” The question is curt, the familiar voice cutting through my moment of peace.

I startle, not having heard my younger sibling approach. The fortune bird flies away in a flash of gold with a high-pitched cry. Sighing as I watch the little bird leave, I plaster a smile on my lips as I turn and look over my shoulder. Our little garden is my haven, the plants and flowers glorious in their blooms, and even my sister’s sour mood cannot destroy the happiness this place brings me.

“Jas, I didn’t hear you approach.” Dipping my head in greeting, I take in her gloomy expression and see that today is going to be difficult. “Plants grow better when you sing to them, that is a proven fact,” I respond lightly, if not a little defensively. I have learned over the years not to react to her barbs, as it only encourages her, but the way she asks the question only puts emphasis on what she is always accusing me of—that I am strange, a changeling, that I have moon fever and have gone mad, or I’m cursed by the fae.

Jasmine and I have never seen eye to eye on most things, although we are almost the mirror image of each other. Jasmine is a little shorter and slimmer, but her features are identical to mine. At twenty-two, I am her senior by four years, and there is no mistaking us as siblings. Our personalities could not be any more different though. Where I usually have a smile on my face and enjoy my own company, she seems to wear a permanentscowl and spends the majority of her time with her friends in the village. What she does there to pass the time, I have never understood.

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs, raising her brows as though to say she is only agreeing to keep me happy. “We are leaving for the market. Are you coming?”

“Yes, I had not realised the time.” Pushing to my feet, I brush down the front of my flowered skirt and hurry back into our cottage. Removing my apron, I glance in the mirror to check that my dress is still in place and my chest is suitably covered, pull my wavy golden brown locks back from my face, and grab my basket with the bouquets I prepared earlier.

I have a skip in my step as I move through our cottage and pause by the front door to grab my shawl. Low, whispered voices catch my attention, and I hover by the door, indecision making me bite down on my lower lip. No, I should not be listening to my mother and sister’s conversation. If it were meant for me to hear, then they would tell me themselves.

I reach out for the door handle when my sister speaks again, the undisguised venom in her voice stopping me in my tracks.

“She was talking to the plants, Mama.” She sounds exasperated, and I can almost imagine her throwing her arms up into the air. “She’s crazy and is going to give us a bad name. No one shall want to trade with us in case they catch it off her.”

“Will you stop, Jasmine?” my mother hisses. “That is your sister you’re talking about, and you could get her locked up with that talk.” I hear how weary she sounds. “There is nothing wrong with her, she is just a little different. That is not a crime.”

While I cannot see either of them, I can visualise how my sister is taking my mother’s words—her arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked to one side. A few quiet, heavy seconds pass before she hums again. “Da would agree with me.”

“Well, your da isn’t here right now, so you will just have to listen to me.” My mother’s voice rises slightly, fed up with this conversation. “Now stop this talk. Iris would be devastated if she heard you talking like this.”

I love my mother for defending me, but nothing she ever says gets Jasmine to stop. Hearing her exhaustion as she argues with Jasmine about thisagain, I feel familiar tendrils of guilt wrap around me. Not only does she have to defend me from rumours coming from the villagers, but she also has to hear it from her youngest daughter too.

Different, strange, and odd—all words I have been called before, and while I have never wished to be like everyone else, I do feel guilty over the stress I cause my mother. She is right though, I am devastated to hear my sister talk about me this way, each word like a stake to my heart. Unfortunately, none of this is unusual for Jasmine.

I am not sure when her dislike of me first started. We always got on when we were children, and then, when we were teenagers, something changed. Things have only escalated since then. We mostly stay out of each other’s way, and that suits the two of us perfectly, yet I know these jibes today are about more than the market folk no longer trading with us. There is one reason that Jasmine’s dislike for me has increased over the years—she believes no one will marry her if her sister is deemed crazy. Her dreams of finding a highbrow husband and getting out of this town all rest on our family’s reputation.

Shaking off the weight of my sister’s words, I take a slow, measured breath and push open the door, stepping out into the sunshine. Our front garden is almost as beautiful as the one out back, and while small, the flowers here are glorious in their colours and varieties.

“Ma,” I greet with a smile, brushing her shoulder with my hand as I pass. She has always been able to read me, and if I staystill for too long, she will see through my mask and know that I heard them talking.

My mother and sister follow behind me, talking quietly between themselves about the villagers and who they plan to trade with today. I let my mind wander as I walk towards the village, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face. Today is market day, and I can trade my home-grown bouquets for coin or food. Market day is also the only time when outsiders are welcome, bringing their wares and opportunities with them. Even so, they are carefully watched and not trusted.

The village of Brine is right on the edge of the human territories. This makes everyone here hardy and suspicious. Surrounded by the Fae Forest, outsiders of any description are not welcome, save on market days. A large wooden wall is built around the settlement with a heavily guarded gate, keeping out all unsavoury people and creatures. My family’s cottage is right on the outskirts of the village and outside the wall. In fact, our rear garden backs up to the forest, the border oh so close. This only makes us more suspicious to the villagers, yet we are accepted because my mother makes a healing balm that has saved many lives. Besides, the mayor seems to like me, and it is only from his vouching for me that we live in the relative comfort we have. It is not only me who is the subject of whispers, but my entire family, all because of our proximity to the forest.

Everyone is warned about the forest, and it is the first thing they teach to the youngsters—do not go into the forest, do not trust strangers, and keep your wits about you. Fae of all descriptions live in the forest, all of which are dangerous and would quickly eat our flesh and break our bones. However, it is the beautiful high fae who you really have to worry about.

Despite all of this, I have never felt threatened by the forest. Of course, I treat it with respect and do not underestimate the power of the sentient trees that loom over us or the creaturesthat could shred me to pieces if they wanted to. The few times I entered were thrilling, and I count the days until I can visit once again. My family has no idea that I enter the forest alone. They would disown me if I were ever caught. I always make sure they are away before venturing in.

The gravel road that leads to the village becomes narrow, the forest creating a pinch point. The trees lean towards us from both sides, their branches meeting in the middle and creating a canopy, briefly blocking out the sun.

The rest of the road beyond is open, and the forest drops back, allowing the grasslands and fields to take over. None of us has ever been attacked at this section of the road, but even so, my mother and sister fall silent as we pass through the pinch point. I do not take my eyes from the road, but I know if I did, I would find the two of them clutching onto each other, fear lining their faces. I do not tell them that it is not the forest that I fear, but the humans we are about to meet in the market.

Our journey is not long, only ten minutes or so, and I can see our destination growing on the horizon, like a dark stain blotting out the sky. From outside, Brine looks unwelcoming and tough, yet I know that when we step past its gate, we shall be greeted by beautiful pots of flowers and a crystal clear pond in the centre. It is such a juxtaposition between the tough exterior and equally tough people, and the cheery feeling the flowers bring to the village.

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