Page 2 of Daughter of Shadows and Ash

Maël handed my book back, and I hugged it to my chest.

"Books transport you to places you could never go to otherwise. How did you know I was just in the woods? Following me around like a lost dog is unbecoming of you."

"First I'm a demon, now I'm a dog. Tomorrow, I'm afraid you'll say I'm a pig."

I smirked and looked up at him through thick lashes, "Tomorrow has yet to be seen."

"I saw you come from Geralt's, and you've got leaves in your hair still." He picked one of the offending leaves from the top of my head and crumbled it in his large hand.

"Ah," heat crept up my neck as I frantically combed through my dark hair for any remaining leaves.

"You're welcome. I'm headed to the training grounds. Come find me later. And if you feel like getting your ass kicked, you know where to find me."

He flashed that infuriating smirk of his and walked away.

Sometimes I wondered if he knew exactly how maddening he was. I let out a huff as I grabbed my bag. Across the square, Lydia watched Maël disappear around the corner, her expression dripping with undisguised longing.

She leaned over to her friend and whispered something in her ear before heading my way, her lips curved into a predatory smile. I shoved my book back into my bag, preparing to avoid whatever was to come, but Lydia invaded my space before I could escape.

"You know," Lydia said, her voice dripping honey-sweet venom, "it's not proper to chase after another girl's man." Behind her, her friend tittered like a trained songbird.

My eyes narrowed. "You need to learn the definition of 'chase'" I spat, "because I certainly haven't been chasing anyone but the doe in the woods."

Lydia huffed and crossed her arms, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her arms. "Stay away from Maël, he's tired ofyou following him around like a lost puppy. He's just too nice to say anything about it."

A laugh burst from my throat, sharp and brittle as winter frost. Her attempt to scare me away was laughable in its desperation.

The irony wasn't lost on me - watching her catch Maël's attention had been torture enough, but now I had to endure her petty threats?

"If that's what Maël wants," I said, my voice as cold as midwinter frost despite the way my heart cracked, "then by all means, claim your prize."

I turned away before they could glimpse the weakness in my eyes and fled to the sanctuary of home.

Chapter 2

"Lor," my grandmother called from her garden as I approached our little cottage. A smile tugged at my lips as I veered slightly left onto the narrow dirt path, the gateway to her sanctuary.

I found her towards the center, her hands working deftly to pick tiny blue blooms from the bed she knelt before, her basket overflowing with freshly gathered herbs at her side. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the leaves above, dancing across her silver hair as butterflies and bees lazily drifted between the fragrant blooms surrounding her.

"Grandmother," I said, coming to a stop before her. She looked up, and I froze. Her face bore a resignation I'd only witnessed at funerals or when someone sought her aid for a grave illness. My heart clenched, a cold weight settling in my chest.

She waved me off. "I just needed ya to help an old bat up. Wrenched my ankle on that blasted rock," she gestured at a large stone near her basket, "and thought I'd finish picking these elder blooms while I waited for ya to return." She plucked a final bloom, brushed her soil-stained hands on her apron,and reached towards me, her weathered hand extending toward mine.

I helped lift her up, bringing my shoulder under her arm to steady her. We took small steps towards the front door, her botanical treasures gripped in her free hand. Even with support, she winced with each step. Once I got her inside, I eased her into our kitchen, to a wooden chair at our little table.

"Get me a bowl and some water and jars so I can start on these, would ya dear?"

I nodded and started pulling the items she needed, setting them before her. She began sorting through her harvest, meticulously separating each plant, her practiced fingers sorting chamomile from elderflower with swift precision. The mingled scent of earth and herbs filled our small kitchen, a gentler echo of her garden's wild perfume.

"I need ya to go into town," she said suddenly. I halted as water splashed into the bowl before me, my hand frozen mid-pour. She'd never let me leave the vicinity of our little village, the surrounding woods marking the boundary of my permitted wanderings.It's not safe, girl. Dangers lurk at every corner. I just want ya to be safe- her constant refrain whenever I mentioned traveling. Truth be told, few ventured to the next town over. Most relied on our regular merchant for trade, but he hadn't been seen in over a fortnight. I stopped the water's flow, wiped the bowl's sides clean, and placed it on the table before her.

"You're allowing me to leave?" I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. The countless nights I'd spent dreaming of far-off worlds and captivating adventures could fill volumes, each one ending with the bittersweet knowledge that my life would never reach such greatness. "What changed to make it safe now?" I asked, my fingers fidgeting with my shirt hem.

She sighed as she continued to sort through her herbs. "Sometimes fate has other plans. I couldn't get out of my garden on my own, much less travel over to Willowbrook. That blasted merchant hasn't been around for weeks. I need ya to fetch me some supplies from the apothecary there. Won't take more than a day to get there and back." She rummaged around in her apron until she found a crumpled piece of parchment. With shaking hands, she placed the list of items and a pouch of coins before me. "For the love of the old gods, be careful, girl. And take the lad with you—your wandering feet have gotten you lost in our own backyard."

I nodded, snatched my bag, and hurried out the door, grateful for the early success of my morning hunt and the abundant daylight ahead. My feet carried me through the village in search of Maël. The memory of Lydia's accusations about my "chasing" Maël surfaced unbidden. Her words had planted seeds of doubt that sprouted into thorny questions: Would he side with her? Was he simply too kind to push me away? Did our friendship mean as much to him as it did to me?

I spotted Maël with the blacksmith, the ends of his brown hair damp from training. He was bent over studying a blade when I approached them. The heat from the forge had left a sheen of sweat on his neck, the muscles in his arms taut as he examined the weapon's edge.

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