Page 3 of Daughter of Shadows and Ash

"Twice in one day, Lor, are you finally ready for our next sparring match?" He flashed a cocky smirk my way as he set the sword down.

I huffed, "Not unless you plan on a fair fight." The dirty cheat kicked dirt in my face and took me down at the knees last time. I hadn't sparred with him since, mostly on principle. "I need you to escort me to Willowbrook."

"Willowbrook? Eleni is letting you out of her sight?" His brow furrowed, his expression mirroring the disbelief churning in my own gut. Even if it was a short distance.

"We're going on her orders," I grabbed his arm and started pulling him to the main village gate. "Now come on, we've got to get going."

He pulled his arm free and crossed both in front of his chest. "And why should I risk life and limb for your grandmother's errands?"

I groaned in exasperation. "Come on, Maël. Everyone else has seen beyond these trees except me. Even you've been to Willowbrook before."

I didn't wait for his response. Permission or not, I was going.

His rich laugh warmed the air as he fell into step beside me. "If you think Willowbrook counts as an adventure, you really need to get out more." His teasing only made my heart flutter traitorously in my chest, a reaction I desperately tried to ignore. His long legs had him caught up to me within a few paces. He took a hand and ruffled the top of my hair, "But who am I to refuse the great Eleni's summons?"

"Demand is more like it..."

"Tomato, potato," he waved me off with a hand, "Just try to keep up and stay close. I'm not wasting my afternoon hunting for you in the woods."

"If I get lost, and that's a big if," I stuck my tongue out at him.

He nudges me with his shoulder as we enter the woods, "With you Lor, it's always when. When you get lost, I'll lead you home." The ancient trees loomed before us, their gnarled branches reaching to the sky like grasping fingers. Dappled sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting an ethereal glow on the moss-covered forest floor.

Excitement thrummed through my veins,threatening to burst free like wildfire through dry brush.

Willowbrook made our village look like a child's toy, unfurling before us like a living tapestry. Stone and timber buildings marched in neat rows along the paved streets. Gardens overflowed with late summer blooms, while rainbow-hued laundry danced on lines above. Children darted between market-goers like mischievous sprites, their laughter carried on the breeze.

The market square opened before us like a jewel box.

Navy and violet banners adorned each shop front, embroidered with silvery crescent moons and twinkling stars. The square pulsed with an energy so different from our sleepy village center.

Merchants called their wares while townspeople haggled and gossiped at every stall.

Spices and fresh-baked bread perfumed the air, making my stomach growl as we wandered the market.

Wooden stalls crowded the cobblestone path, pressed against a line of weathered stone shops.

I couldn't help but smile as I stopped to look at the trinkets. Maël's attention caught on a weapons vendor displaying an array of deadly-looking blades, including some I'd never seen before - perfectly circular and gleaming.

"An Esmeranian specialty," the old man said with pride, "they're meant to be thrown, faster than an arrow and as sharp as any blade."

I watched Maël turn the weapon in his hands, admiring how his fingers traced the deadly edge. He bargained like a seasoned merchant, all easy charm and calculated pauses.

We'd stepped into a world that felt alien, yet oddly alluring. It wasn't just Willowbrook; it was the way people interacted with each other. Something inside me ached for this to be our reality.

In my mind's eye, I saw us here - sharing drinks at the tavern, breaking warm bread from the bakery, our lives woven into the fabric of this place. Under the sprawling willow tree in the market's heart, we could share meals and spin stories about the travelers passing through, imagining their destinations and the tales they carried.

My chest tightened with wanting - for him, for this life, for all the possibilities that seemed forever just beyond my grasp.

Maël caught me staring at him and gave me a lopsided grin. "What were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

I blushed fiercely, feeling my cheeks burn under his gaze. "Nothing," I muttered, looking away.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, as he caught my hand and drew me near. His scent of leather and pine washed over me, the late summer breeze carrying whispers of metal and sun warmed skin. The heat of his palm against mine made my breath catch, a dangerous dance of friendship and something more.

"Come on," he said, "let's head over to the apothecary for your grandmother."

His calloused fingers threaded through mine, each point of contact sending sparks racing along my skin as we made our way to the apothecary. My heart fluttered beneath my ribs, every nerve ending alive to the rough warmth of his palm against mine, the gentle sweep of his thumb across my knuckles making my breath catch in my throat.

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