Page 4 of Daughter of Shadows and Ash

He saw me to the shop's entrance, making some excuse about another errand. I tried not to wonder if he was off to examine more weapons or if the tavern's warmth - and its patrons - had caught his eye.

I forced the jealous thoughts away, clinging instead to the lingering warmth of his touch and the impossible dreams it sparked.

Chapter 3

Istepped inside the musty apothecary. The scent of herbs and flowers overwhelmed my senses. Dried lavender and sage hung from the rafters in neat bundles, while the sharp bite of crushed mint and the earthy musk of mushrooms danced in the air. As I entered, a woman with sharp features and piercing blue eyes looked up from her work. She watched me expectantly as I rummaged through my bag.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, her tone not welcoming.

"I need these for my grandmother," I passed her the list of ingredients. "She was sure you'd carry them."

She took the parchment, reviewing my grandmother's careful script. "Your grandmother wouldn't happen to be Eleni, would she?"

The woman's sharp stare left me speechless. Her gaze pierced through me like a winter frost, sharp and unforgiving. It seemed like my grandmother had crossed her in the past. Knowing her, she probably did. I crossed my arms, fighting the urge to defend her reputation right there. My grandmother was equal parts maddening and merciful.

I nodded, unable to speak a word. The owner rolled her eyes as she pushed past a curtain at her back, muttering something about young people and no manners as she disappeared.

While waiting for her to gather the items, my eyes wandered around the shop. Dusty shelves overflowed with glass jars containing liquids of various colors, some containing ingredients like eye of newt or toadstools. The air hung thick with notes of smoke and rosemary. My attention caught on a shelf full of worn leather books, their gilded letters along the spines worn with age and in a language I couldn't quite make out. A thump at the counter drew my attention back, and I found the owner had returned with a thick parcel.

"It'll be five silvers for everything, tell your grandmother I gave you her usual discount."

I smiled and retrieved the coins from the pouch in my bag, handing them to her. "Thank you."

Just as I was about to leave with the goods in hand, the owner spoke again. "Your grandmother has always been an enigma to me," she said thoughtfully. "She's never shared much about herself, but she always comes with a tale of her granddaughter. It makes me miss my own greatly."

I gave her a small smile as I grabbed my wares and headed towards the door, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of there ever being a day when I wouldn't wake up to my grandmother busying herself in our home. She was the only family I had in this life.

The moment I stepped back into the sunlight, my breath caught in my throat. Maël stood before a jeweler's shop next door, a glinting ring held delicately between his fingers. My fingers trembled against the parcel in my hands, my chest constricting as though wrapped in thorny vines. The world seemed to narrow, darkening at the edges as I stared at that cursed ring, my mouth going dry as dust.

My heart sank as realization dawned on me. Was he planning to propose? And to whom? A shiver ran down my spine, thinking about the moment with Lydia I witnessed earlier. The thought of him proposing made me feel sick inside. Just moments ago, I had been imagining a childish future with him while he had plans with another. It was never going to be me and Maël. My chest hollowed, each breath a battle against the void threatening to consume me. The ring's gleam mocked every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every moment I'd foolishly treasured between us. I was nothing but a shadow in his light, destined to watch from the darkness as he chose another.

Desperate to escape the crushing weight of reality, I slipped into the nearest alley, my feet carrying me around the square until I found myself at the tavern's door.

I needed to numb myself to the bitter truth that had shattered my heart.

I claimed a dark corner table, where the flickering candlelight couldn't reach.

The barmaid barely glanced at my face before returning with a pitcher of dark wine.

I let the wine burn away my thoughts, while the tavern's cheerful chaos mocked my misery.

Perhaps at the bottom of this pitcher, I'd find the strength to forget his smile.

The wine flowedlike liquid courage through my veins. The tavern had erupted into a cacophony of laughter and song since my arrival. Seeking solace in another tankard ofwine, as merrymakers celebrated life's fleeting joys. Would Grandmother's disapproving frown greet me when she learned I'd spent my first taste of freedom drowning in wine and self-pity?

Perhaps. But did the weight of her judgment compare to the crushing pain in my chest? Honestly, not in that moment.

Maël would eventually track me down, drag me back. We'd go back to our separate lives, as destiny seemed to demand.

Maël...Maël and his ring. Soon to be Maël and his fiancée. I gulped down more wine, pressing my palms against my eyes until stars burst behind my lids. I'd have to paste on a smile while our entire village celebrated his happiness with another. Oh gods, I'd have to stand there, frozen in my personal hell, watching him pledge himself to another.

The wine scorched a path down my throat, a blessed burn to rival the one in my chest. My fingers trembled against the tankard's surface, my usually steady hands betraying me now. The tavern's cheerful atmosphere felt like a cruel joke, mocking my misery with each peal of mirth that rang out, each clink of tankards an echo of my shattering heart.

I could see him there, his tall frame commanding attention against the backdrop of a perfect day. Maël would be effortlessly handsome, as always, his brown eyes dancing with joy as he beheld his radiant bride. A bride who wouldn't be me. I'd be there in the crowd, suffocating on unsaid words.

While everyone else celebrated the happiest day of my best friend's life, I'd be drowning in my own misery.

My violet eyes would be rimmed with red, each exchanged vow another crack in my already splintering heart. Gods, I was pathetic.

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